The friends I paddle with have asked about going to see Esther.

The thought of visiting her gives me anxiety. So far out there. The unknown.

A week from last Friday, at home while unpacking from a 3-mile paddle around Naples island, I slammed the sliding door of my van on my thumb. God damn. Son of a bitch. All the foul words flow. I said them loudly so someone hear and would ask if I was alright. The child in me wants my boo-boo to be made better. Instantly my nail turns blue, the appendage now useless. Since then I’ve been babying my hand. Paddling less. During that week the talk has been going around to visit Esther.

Who is Esther?

Esther is an oil derrick out in the ocean off of Seal Beach. Giant and menacing. Deep water between you and the target. Dark. Dark thoughts can arise if you let your mind wander. Dark thoughts were already arising.

Mike Jenkins, one of the many Mikes in the group, had come up with a few different options for this adventure, planned and organized. Something I will need to learn to be if I want to progress into a better waterman.

We met at Horny Corner in Long Beach, Ca. A funny name I can’t help but giggle at. 7:30 am was our planned launch time. The tide was dropping quickly & there would be no wind until later in the afternoon. The suggested plan is that we ride the dropping tide out to the oil derrick, making the trip easy, but the dropping tide on the paddle back in would be s a slog. We all agreed on the 8.68ish mile course and set out.

Gathering at the shore of the beach we talk out the plan one more time. I take notice of what everyone else is wearing and suddenly feel overdressed in my 2mm Reunion Wetsuit jacket. I don’t have time to take it off though. We’re getting ready to take off.

Chatter flows as we slide into the water. Aiming for a channel entrance across the water. This will lead us into a loop around the inner Naples Island before going out the channel into the open water.

Everyone in the group paddles at various speeds, this is more a social paddle, not a hard training paddle so we try to keep it casual. I listen mostly and concentrate on keeping up, I’m in less of a social mood and more in a keep up and survive this mood. Everyone in the group is much more experienced and paddles at a faster pace than I do.

Looping around the island in a relatively fast time, taking a break at the Long Beach Yacht Club, we confirm the plan again. I’m learning that most watermen and waterwomen past surfing plan and plan a lot. They have to set boundaries in their land life to properly plan adventures as best they can. Knowledge of the weather, tides, and currents. Things I need to apply to my land life. Boundaries that is.

Off again past piles of rocks that form the breakwater. Not as large as the rocks at Dana Point’s Harbor but large enough for someone lying flat on their stomach. Other paddlers are heading back in from the ocean. The Varsity team as they were called. A more serious bunch of souls that ride farther and faster than our group. We exchange hellos, but they’re on a mission and paddle on without stopping. We are also on a mission and must continue.

Fishermen line the rock wall jetty, casting their bait into the river mouth. one of them catches my eye, and it’s not the fisherman himself that catches my attention at first, but the rock he stands on. TITTIES. Is spray painted in big letters. Then I notice more about the man. Latin, in his 60s, wearing a shirt that reads “SURF”. These two words make me chuckle.

SURF TITTIES

At the mouth of the harbor, we pull up and wait for everyone to gather. Mike Jenkins points out the closest oil rig. Esther. Sitting 1.5 miles off the Seal Beach shore sits one of the three sisters. There’s no chickening out on this adventure. If I want to cross the channel I have to paddle to this Derrick.

We take off. The water is relatively glassy. Nothing like the surf Jen and I paddled through. Some surface movement but not the rolling waves that begged to crash out into the water to see the Red Buoy and Green Buoy. I don’t even know how far I have to paddle I just paddle.

Gliding up to Esther you see how large and far out of the water this structure is. Sitting on a shoal out in the ocean the water isn’t as deep as what we paddled through, it is deep, however.

Resting under the platform I stare up at the large structure. Legs of concrete supporting the massive weight. Seals rest on low-hanging supports, a few splash, and play in the water. It brings to mind sharks and the possibility of what lies beneath the dark waters.

After about 5 minutes we make for the opening of the harbor and the break wall. A straight shot. Gat sails by in his 14’ Bark board. The extra length gives him extra speed compared to my 12’ stock board.

At the mouth of the harbor, we wait again, this time for the fishing boat traffic to pass. Fishermen in all kinds of boats zip along, causing a rolling wake that bobs our prone paddleboards up and down. As one starts to approach I start to paddle out, another boat is a bit further behind it, I’d like to be able to sneak through, to do that I have to start now to do it.

The others follow behind me. Our target is the V.A. hospital in the distance. It doesn’t seem that far off, but the dropping tide will be slowing us down as we try to approach the shore.

Keri and Gat slowly take off, creating a gap between them and myself. Peter paddles along with me. It’s a slow mile-and-a-half paddle back. Once again I begin asking myself why am I doing this. Why am I putting myself through this task? The dropping tide makes it feel like I am paddling nowhere.

Slowly, ever so slowly I crawl closer to the shore. An island that disguises oil derricks slowly passes by on my left. I chat with Peter a little, he’s keeping pace with me nicely. I ask him what he’s training for, he also wants to cross the channel and tells me when he saw paddlers coming into the mainland after crossing from Catalina, how he told himself he was going to do that.

The conversation becomes quiet as we focus on the end goal. So close. I hop to my knees a few times trying to catch the inbound swell. I’m just praying for land. I catch a small wave, the board is at the wrong angle though and almost rolls. Keri is already on shore with Gat. Mike Jenkins gets back in the water to paddle for the other Mike, Judy, and a gentleman from French Polynesia, I didn’t catch his name.

We are done. Thanks God. 8.65 miles from launch to landing. Even though my arms are tired I am stoked and am happy for pushing myself in this. This was the farthest I’ve been out into the ocean. Okay, I did do some whale watching like every Southern California school kid does. Okay, almost every school kid.

This though. This was different. This was under my power on a board about 20” wide. Easy to tip and roll. The only power is your body. You can’t stop or you become a buoy. So completing each trip, especially as they become farther and farther, becomes a bigger boost in confidence in many areas of life.

Back at the car, we pack up while chit-chatting about the adventure. Mike Jenkins and I linger a bit and chat about other things beyond paddling.

What an adventure. I can’t wait for the next one.

Aloha,

Rev. Ben Soto

Visiting Esther

The Challenges Are Set

Back Bay Beauty, Pt. 1