Cannon Rocks to Port Alfred

We’d pitched our tents at Fred Cresswell’s holiday house in Bushmans River. That evening it started to rain, and our tents offered about as much protection as an upturned colander. The forecast swell was similar to the day before, but from the water’s edge at Cannon Rocks it looked a lot bigger.

Fred and I got the jump on the other two, Nick Rocky and Marc Notje, but the early arrival of the next set caught us out – the first wave broke a foot in front of us, the foamie swallowed us whole and spat us back out. Fred lost his boat, which washed onto the rocks and was damaged; I managed to hold onto mine through the next four waves, clipping everything back into place before remounting.

The three of us who carried on rode the wind chop and swell toward Port Alfred – the last great downwind of 2012. Nearing the entrance I chose to go up the river mouth rather than risk the beach surf, and was told nothing was breaking across it – only for a monster set to loom behind me as I approached. I backed off the first wave just in time as it crashed across the entrance, then sprinted for it as the next wave broke behind me, ducking behind the breakwater just before the following one hit. The others had hung back and let the set pass, and for a moment thought I’d been eaten by it. Lots of post-nervous laughter once we were all back together.

That’s enough excitement for 2012. Happy New Year!