Magic Sawyer Paddle

My Sawyer Sea Feather wooden kayak paddle was my favorite personal paddle and the one I always chose as a kayak tour operator on the island of Hawaii.  I especially loved the clear, musical “plunk” it made when the blade plunged into the clear azure waters of the Pacific Ocean on the leeward side of Hawaii island.

Betsy wiht her Sea Feather Touring Paddle

I had used this paddle for many years and it had taken more than a few knocks surfing in on rocky volcanic shores, banging around in the back of trucks, and prying off overeager tourist boats.   It was strong and tough, but like its middle-aged owner, it was getting a little spongy in the middle. I knew it needed some repair, but I kept using it because I hated to give it up even for a day or two.  Compared to the fiberglass paddles I used for the guests that had no real life to them, my wooden Sawyer paddle had flexibility and give.  It was made from trees and it still had spring and bend. It felt good in my hands, it paddled like an extension of my arms, and it had given me many good years of paddling up and down the island.

One afternoon in my business office I got a call from my guide who was leading a camping trip.  He wanted some more water and ice, so I stuck some coolers in the hatch and paddled down to the campsite, about three miles south of the Hawaiian fishing village of Miloli`i, and delivered the water and ice.  I stayed for his delightful cooked dinner -- fresh caught Hawaii ahi (tuna) grilled over kiawe wood coals.  Then I received a cellphone call from my daughter in college who was eager for me to hurry back to help her with her term paper, due the next day of course.

I would have camped with the group on the black sand beach, but instead I headed off into the setting sun to paddle the three miles back to my truck.  The wind had picked up quite a bit and was shooting and whistling off the left-hand blade of my Sawyer paddle.  I was pushing very hard against the wind in very choppy water and making extremely slow progress.  The sun was setting into the Pacific Ocean with yet another glorious sunset in paradise, and then it was black.  There is very little twilight in the tropics, so I was alone at night with the wind still whipping in my face and fizzing off the paddle.

The lights of the village of Miloli`i were twinkling in the distance and gradually drawing closer.   I had about two miles to go on this warm but windy April night on the water in Hawaii.  As the wind increased I had to push harder and harder on my blade to stay upright and move ahead.  With all this pressure on it, the paddle cracked and snapped off with most of the blade on the left side breaking off near the spongy ferrule connection. Then it blew off into the dark sea.

I made the next two miles paddling with the broken but still sturdy right hand paddle blade with a lot more effort, doing about 15 strokes on each side then switching. In about another mile the wind died down, and I was finally able to relax and appreciate the beautiful evening sky, the smell of the sea in the darkness, and the lights of the village as I approached closer.

Within a mile from the Hawaiian fishing village of Miloli`i I started picking up bioluminescence on my one-bladed paddle.  Bioluminescence is not common in Hawaii, but that night the ocean blessed me.  With every flick of the paddle, radiant beads of light sparkled up at me, like water fireflies.  They danced away in a sea spray of lit up pearls. I couldn’t get enough of it. I didn’t want to land. As I neared the small cement pier and tiny landing bay in Miloli`i, there were a few families out at night enjoying the rare ocean light show as much as I was  “Who’s there?” they called out. “It’s me, Betsy.”  “Ah, da crazy kayak lady!  Why you so late?”  “High wind, paddle broke, still got half.”

I wiggled the paddle in the water to churn up some more glowing dinoflagellates and everybody ooh’d and aah’d,  “Magic paddle, eh!”

Thank you, Sawyer paddle, for giving me so many years of good paddling, for bringing me safe through rough waters, and at the end, for lighting up my life.

Betsy Morrigan