Aow Yai Beach, Ko Phayam
Koh Phayam, Thailand, March 14, 2007: the end of an era. Six weeks of two-on-two volleyball every morning ended when the core players retreated from our tropical island paradise and returned to whatever constitutes their “real world”.
Somewhat disoriented by the change to the morning regime, I decided that paddling my kayak was a good substitute. A strong northwester blew side-onshore so I pointed upwind, stroking steadily into the chop. After 1.5km, I reached the end of the white sand beach where a rocky headland juts out perpendicular. The cliffs created a wind shadow and the waves diminished with each stroke. I changed course and traveled toward the open sea staying close to the headlands. Creeping over the shallow reef, I watched Dusky Damselfish defend their territory while Moorish Idols paraded lazily amongst the corals. Sergeant Majors and Banded Butterfly fish cruised calmly through the green-blue water.
Leaving the rocky point behind, I rounded the tip and found myself in a confused sea. The combination of wind generated waves and surge waves coming from opposing directions, mixed with the rebounding surge from the headland, created a bathtub effect. Water sloshed everywhere as I bobbed along. I sat idly and watched thousands of small baitfish school at the surface. It looked like water was boiling only a few feet from my kayak. Occasionally, the ubiquitous predators that lurk below dashed through the school scattering the pack in a frothy frenzy only to regroup instantly. There is safety in numbers.
I floated on the wind back to the headland, lost in contemplation. Replaying some of the best serves, sets and smashes in my mind, I recreated rallies from recollection. I recalled the quips that were fired over the net as often as the ball, retorts returned with speed and a smile. I reminisced at the competitive nature of each player and noted that none lost their cool on the court or their sense of humour.
I repeated out loud the distinct declaration of disappointment of each player. Laurent “The Wall”, with his French-Canadian accented “ooohhhh noooooo” which was perpetually repeated with peels of laughter. “Rocket Boy” Jim and his gargled “aaarrghh” rarely failed to generate a comment. Or images of Chris paddling about in the sand with one hand on his bandanna covered forehead uttering a plaintive “ooooohhh” and our subsequent wisecracks. Each brought a smile to my face.
In the shelter the cliffs once again, I cooled off with a swim and found myself gazing aimlessly toward the horizon. The bright sunlight created bizarre effects on the wind whipped water and I imagined a variety of visions in my mind. I was almost certain I spotted a dorsal fin but decided it was a mirage created by the elements. Snorting at myself for conjuring images I was taken aback when the dorsal fin flew from the water, attached to a male dolphin performing a graceful aerial maneuver.
Attention suddenly focused, I paddled steadily toward the dolphin, two dolphins, make that four dolphins! They frolicked and fed nearby for almost half and hour. They moved in the water with grace all around me. As the foursome breached in unison I noticed that they had a baby no more than one meter in length squeezed securely between two adults. I also noticed that a fifth adult was distinctly pink in colour. At first I thought the light was playing tricks with my perception but after several sightings from a variety of angles I was certain it was pink.
The current eventually changed and the dolphins followed the food supply around the rocky tip out to sea. This small pod patrols the coast here but rarely comes close to the beach. I thought of the fortunate timing of my paddle and considered whether or not it was some kind of omen. Perhaps the end of the morning sessions signified the start of something new. Regardless, that day will remain rooted in my memory.
Copyright, Tim Morch
