This post written by Robin Zinthefer

During this trip I have found myself being much more present and aware of each moment than I am at home.  My days are filled with moments of wonder, joy, excitement, fear, frustration, exhaustion, appreciation, and pride.

The moments observing nature have been more rewarding and fulfilling than I imagined.  On day 80 I am still appreciating the daily sightings of jelly fish, sea stars, jumping fish, birds, and, of course, all the sea mammals.  We may see over two dozen sea otters in a day, but we still point out the next one and smile.  I have found life in the intertidal zone quite fascinating.  We have been lucky enough with the weather conditions that we have often been able to paddle right next to the rocky shore.  The swell drops, revealing a whole world of rocks covered with sea stars.  A moment later the swell returns and everything disappears.  It feels like a magic trick.  Playing peak-a-boo with sea stars brings me joy every time.  Did you know that Moon Jellyfish  group together by the thousands when nutrients and currents are favorable?  In one inlet I looked down and saw the water full of Moon Jellies pencil eraser to saucer sized.  There was no way to not hit them with my paddle.  For over fifteen minutes of paddling I was constantly amazed that the concentration of jellies was so dense.  My curiosity was peaked; there has been something to look up at every stop.

This is not to say it has all been wonderful or easy.  For the past few weeks we have been on the outside of Vancouver Island. This is the most exposed coast I have paddled on.  Throughout the trip I have been working to build my skills so we could come out here where the wind and waves are rougher. My first test was turning the corner at Cape Scott and starting down the west coast. Going around Cape Scott was a short but full day.  The Cape focuses energy coming from the open ocean around it. The wind, swell, currents, and rocks make for challenging conditions, with the swell reflecting off the rocks and causing unpredictable waves to pop up under your boat.

When we encountered bumpy conditions earlier on the trip, I would focus on how uncomfortable I was and not on much else.  This time was different.  I was nervous for sure, but I was also able to look around.  The color of waves breaking on rocks was a spectacular light blue amidst the deep blue water and white breakers. In the distance we could hear the bark of sea lions; around the next rock we saw a whole pile of them.  I sat comfortably in the swell to observe while Calvin took pictures.  I immediately recognized this accomplishment as an improvement in my skills.  I was having fun while being challenged and could vocalize right then: a moment of success and pride.

A few days later we were set to go around the Brooks Peninsula, another exposed stretch of coast.  My world got quite small for a portion of the day: just my body, my boat, the waves breaking right next to me and my desire to be in calmer water.  About halfway down the peninsula there was a narrow, but safe, passage between large breaking waves to land on a beach for a much needed break.  There I passed from uncomfortable to scared, fearful that I was going to flip.  In that moment some choice words came out of my mouth.  Calvin was encouraging and reassuring me.  Though I didn’t want to hear it, I needed it.  Once on solid ground I acknowledged how scared I was and that the passage and landing were actually uneventful. I didn't hold on to my fear and I was able get back on the water without worrying about what if the conditions continued to feel big. Letting that moment of fear go allowed me to enjoy the miles we had to paddle to camp and take pride in the accomplishment of going around the Brooks. The day was ended with the full moon rising in a purple sky.

The end of this journey is approaching.  A few days ago we looked across the water and could see Cape Flattery in the distance. Now Washington is on our right, just across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. There are fewer and fewer moments left on this expedition; it is easy to feel the monotony of paddling and to start making lists and thinking about the future. Though I won’t see whales daily or challenge myself with surf landings at home I want to continue to make the time to recognize the wonder around me. And maybe more importantly, be present for the challenges I face; taking pride in tackling them instead of distracting myself with my phone or the next item on the to-do list. Now is still the time to practice; to appreciate myself and Calvin and breathe in calm and peacefulness while listening to the waves and gazing up at the full night sky.

Finally! An Orca sighting on day 81 in Juan De Fuca Strait.