Morning Paddles and Reflections

Article by Tyler Hustrulid. Photography by Jeoffrey Nathan.

There are many perks that go along with living and working on an island. For the Coastal Urge staff of Bald Head Island and our friends, they all without a doubt revolve around being surrounded by water. We have creeks for flat-water standup paddling, deserted breaks for surfing, consistently good wind nearly every single afternoon for kiteboarding, open-ocean swells for downwinders, the list goes on. Recently, our favorite perk has been our early morning paddle.

When the alarm clock goes off in the morning, it’s not dismissed with a slap of the snooze and a sense of dread of having to toil through another day at work. Instead, it’s welcomed with something closer to a childlike excitement that comes from being immersed in this unique environment, like being let out for extended recess on the coolest playground you could ever have imagined back in your school days.

Our boards are splashed in the harbor usually before the last drop of hot coffee is finished. Once the ferry’s wake clears out of the channel we make way ourselves. As the sun is still clearing the horizon, the waters outside the protection of the harbor are just as calm. A light wind picks up, keeping the already warm rays of sunshine delightfully pleasant and the flies at bay. We make our way past beachfront homes. Some folks too are already awake, out on their porch soaking in the magnificence of the sunrise and wave to us as we pass by abandoned navigational markers that stand like a row of monuments. Once they were built to steer shipping vessels away from the shifting sand bars but now they offer lofty perches for seabirds and nooks for the fish below to hide among.

It’s a calm, relaxed paddle down the beach; muscles begin to warm-up, the mind awakens from the morning fog. We keep our eyes focused on the shallow, sandy bottom in hopes of spying a stingray out looking for his breakfast. The Oak Island lighthouse flickers on the opposite shore. A reminder that while all is well now, these waters can still hold dangers for seafarers. Looking back, out over the ocean behind us, it is humbling to imagine the breadth and depth of the Atlantic and the distance to the shores of Europe and Africa. One can’t help but feeling so small yet a part of something so much bigger.

As we round the corner towards the opening to Bald Head Creek, small waves, more like ripples on the surface, push against our sterns, giving us a gentle push back towards shore. Halfway up the creek, we pause to gather. Someone calls out a countdown: “Ready? 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Go!” Then it is an all-out sprint up the creek.

Paddles dig furiously pushing us faster and leaving small wakes behind on what was once a glassy surface. The heart quickens, sweat beads up across our brows and backs. It’s a close race to the first turn in the creek and we form into a single file line as we duck in. While we are in a race against each other, it’s pure fun, friendly competition and we remind each other to stay to the left as the water to the right become shallow enough to drag a fin and send you flying forward and off your board. Here, back in the grasses, sheltered from the offshore breeze, the flies are quick to notice our return and buzz about our knees and ankles hoping to score a quick bite. The cadence of a strong paddle rhythm is interrupted by slaps and splashes to ward-off the attackers. For anyone watching us from the shore, it’s surely a comical sight.

Looping back around to the main body of the creek we leave the flies behind us and it’s full throttle forward, paddling with as much force as we can muster. It’s heavy, quick breathes now, just as if we were in a footrace running as fast as we can. The lungs begin to burn as the dock and our imaginary finish line come within reach.

By this point, the rankings usually sort themselves out and we coast in, dragging our paddles behind us to turn our boards back up the creek and offer high fives and thanks to each other for the friendly bout and dose of morning exercise.

Collecting ourselves along the dock, we dangle our feet in the water and do as most people that gather in the morning do, discussing the weather, the news, funny things we saw on the internet, what the kids are up to, what the dog found to eat in the yard last night, our hopes of accomplishments for the day… It is no different than the millions of other morning conversations people start their day with, with the unspoken exception that we realize just how fortunate we are to have access to this beautiful creation and each other to share in it.

Saddling our boards upon our shoulders, we walk back to start our day, refreshed, motivated, and thankful.