Never Forget the Power that Ocean Holds

"Make sure there's always other people around when you go swimming".  "Never swim alone". "Don't go in water over your head". "Stay close to the lifeguards".  "Don't swim at sunset".  These are just some of the warnings I've heard over the years from people who showed their concern at my habits of doing all of the above despite promising I wouldn't. White lies, I tell myself.  Just little white lies to keep them quiet and from worrying unnecessarily.  After all, I'm a good swimmer and I'm always aware of my surroundings.  

Yes, I try to make sure there are other people around when I swim but that's not always possible.  Sometimes I end up heading to the beach alone because no one else feels like going and I'm not one to pass up opportunities just because I have no one to go with.  And later in the season, there are few people at the beach because everyone is back to school or work and the air is cooler.   I rarely go in water over my head but if the water is clear and calm, sometimes I'm enticed to go further out to explore the depths with my mask and snorkel. And swimming at sunset?  Well, that's my favourite time to swim!

I've always heard the stories about Inverness Beach and some of the other nearby beaches along the northwestern coast of Cape Breton.  Stories about the riptides and strong currents and about how many people have drowned in the area over the years. It wasn't that I didn't believe the stories; I just never witnessed conditions bad enough to warrant much concern any time I swam there. That is until July 27th, 2024.  That day turned out to be one I'll never forget and one that changed the way I feel about the ocean forever.  

That day started like any other beach day.  I picked up a friend and we drove the 2.5 hours to Inverness Beach.  I choose my days wisely when I know I will driving that distance.  I make sure the forecast calls for plenty of sun, warm temperatures and light winds.  I picked a good one.   

For most of the afternoon, we alternated our time between swimming and sunbathing on the beach. I swam in water just over my head with no issues.  Everything was good, it was a perfect day.  

At around 4 O'clock, we went for a long walk down the beach to dry off and headed to Cheticamp for something to eat with the intention of returning to the beach in time for one last sunset swim before heading home.  

We walked onto the beach near the canteen and instead of walking further down the beach like I usually did, I decided to just swim right there. Just before sunset, I entered the water for my final swim of the day.  The water was still calm and clear and the sun was starting it's descent into the horizon.  About a dozen people were still in the water and all was well.    No one else was in the water right where I was but there were people all around, both on the beach and in the water nearby. 

My friend stayed on the beach this time to take pictures and catch up on some messages she got throughout the day.  I slipped into the warm water and when I got waist-deep, I swam for a bit in the fading beam of sunlight that stretched from the horizon to the beach.  After a few minutes, I switched to floating on my back.  I remember it being so calm and relaxing in those last few moments before the chaos.

I was only floating like that for maybe two minutes and in a matter of seconds, my relaxing sunset swim turned into a fight for my life. When I tried to stand up, I was in water over my head the shore was getting further and further away.  I tried to swim but to no avail.  I was being pulled into deeper water.  Then it hit me; I was in a riptide.  My first reaction was panic.  I frantically tried to swim harder and harder and instead of getting closer to shore, I was pulled underwater.  I remember advice giving to me in the past; if you find yourself in a rip current, DON'T PANIC!  I regained my composure but knew I needed help.  I waved my hands in the air and yelled "HELP".  I could see everyone on the beach but no one was looking my way.  No one on the beach saw my waving and no one heard my desperate call for help.  I was on my own and had to act fast.  

As if by some miracle, my foot found a large rock.  I wrapped my ankles around as best as I could and held on for dear life while I tried to regain my strength for one last attempt to get myself out of that raging current. When I felt ready, I used all my strength to propel myself toward the beach using the rock.  I swam as hard as I could, using both arms and legs and all the energy I had left.  Finally, I was back in water shallow enough to stand up and walk the last few feet to shore. The whole ordeal felt like an eternity but was just minutes, if that.  That's how quickly I could have been swept out into the open ocean and never seen again. When I reached the water's edge, I collapsed in the sand, choking and crying.  My friend raced to me to see what was wrong.  She hadn't seen a thing but she saw the terror in my eyes and knew that I had just been through a harrowing experience. 

For days after that incident, I couldn't get my mind of it.  All I could think about was how close I was to drowning and how lucky I was to be still alive.  I noticed myself feeling grateful towards everything.  Even small things - like a relaxing walk, my morning coffee with Dad, a hot meal - were given more thought than usual.  And let me tell you, was I ever grateful to see that beautiful sunrise that morning.  And as I sat silently and watched the sun rise over the bay and the sky turn all sorts of vibrants colors I couldn't shake the thought that I almost never got to see the sunrise again. 

I went for a swim at the beach close to my house a few days after the incident in Inverness and found myself looking at the ocean differently.  I didn't hate it or blame it for nearly claiming me; I just had a newfound respect for the power it held and how quickly it could turn a leisurely swim into a fight for survival in a matter of seconds. I entered the water slower than usual and as I stood and looked out to the far depths of the Atlantic, that wave of gratitude came over me once again when I thought about how I could have ended up somewhere out there, never to step foot on dry land again. 

An Amazing Day at Point Michaud Beach

I love Point Michaud.  After all, it's a long, sandy beach in a remote area of beautiful Cape Breton Island and there's nothing I love more than a long, sandy beach all to myself. But, there is one thing I don't love about this beach in particular; the water is always cold!

When I go to Point Michaud Beach, it's to sit in the sand and watch the waves or to walk the many kilometers along its shore. The couple of times I tried to swim there, it was just way too cold.  Sure, many people do swim there but they are local people who are used to the cooler waters of the south coast and many times, they are wearing wetsuits. I'm used to the warm waters of Dominion Beach and Inverness Beach.  Point Michaud Beach is more suited to the surfers who come from all over to surf the ideal conditions the beach is known for.  Sometimes the waves get quite big. I don't surf.  I also don't even put my toes in the water at Point Michaud Beach.  

Than, one day I made a last-minute visit to Point Michaud.  I was camping down the road with my father and when we parted ways to head home, I stopped at the beach to see an old friend who happened to be there that day.  It was a warm sunny day, but I didn't have high hopes of going for a swim.  

"Did you bring your swimsuit?  The water is lovely!" was the greeting I received as my old friend embraced me in the parking lot.   I must have looked at her like she was crazy because she responded with "no really, the water is the warmest It's ever been!".  I had my doubts but I changed into my swimsuit anyway.  I sat on the beach in the warm sun, delaying my entry into what I expected to be chilly water.  When my friend's young granddaughter ran to the water's edge and walked nonchalantly into the water like it was nothing, I began to think that maybe my friend wasn't exaggerating about the water temperature after all.  

I walked to the water's edge and watched the little girls jump and dive and splash around. The water was so clear.  I'd never seen it so clear before!  I slipped my sandals off and dipped my toes in the water.  It felt very warm but I knew that wasn't enough to gauge how warm it would be further out.  I slowly entered the water inch by inch.  It didn't get colder.  Eventually I was up to my waist in warm water that is usually the norm for the other side of the island.  I ducked and surprisingly, it wasn't a shock because, lo and behold, the water was so warm!  

I stayed in that water for over an hour riding the gentle waves, watching the surfers riding waves on their boards nearby.  Even in water over my head, it was clear, I could see straight to the bottom.  It was almost like swimming in the Caribbean Sea.  I'd never seen such beautiful conditions at Point Michaud before and boy, was I glad I took my swimsuit along on that camping trip! When the clouds rolled in and the air cooled, the water stayed warm but I knew it was time to get out of the water and dry off before the rain came. 

The rain did come just as I was driving along the coast headed for home.  I made a little detour to St. Peters to grab a coffee for the road and made that long, scenic drive down Route 4 along the Bras d'Or Lakes.  I'll never assume that the water is always cold at Point Michaud again because I hope to have a repeat of that amazing day next summer and every summer after!

The Ocean is Never Far Away in Cape Breton

No matter where you go in Cape Breton, you are always less than an hour's drive from the ocean!  It is, after all, a small island.  Whether it be a rocky shore, a sandy beach or high cliffs looking out over the Atlantic, the ocean is very much a part of the scenery here.

One of my favourite ocean views on Cape Breton Island located at Broad Cove Beach near Ingonish.

A New Trail, an Old Trail and some Big Waves

I may not have traveled all that far this summer, but I certainly had the opportunity to do a lot of new things.  In particular, I got to hike a few new trails and explore some new places I had never explored before.  One of the new trails I hiked was at the Ben Eoin Provincial Park.  I actually didn't even know there was a trail there.  I'd been to the park many times but I guess I never noticed the sign pointing to the trail leading up the mountain.

I arrived at the  park in mid-afternoon and ate my lunch before heading up the hill.  It was a beautiful afternoon for that late in September.  There was hardly any wind, it was sunny and the air was just right - not too hot and not too cold, just comfortable. Perfect hiking conditions.  I was the only person there that day and I found that both strange and disturbing considering it was the weekend and the weather was so fantastic.  I can't get my head around the fact that so many people would rather spend such a splendid day in a mall buying material things they don't need when they could be outdoors enjoying the spectacular beaches, trails and natural surroundings of one of the world's most beautiful islands.

With my lunch done and all ready to hit the trail, I made my way up the mountain, not having any idea how far the trail went or how long it would take to get up the hill and back down.  The trail was quite steep for a while until it leveled out.  I swam, walked and biked all summer so I'm quite fit.  The only thing bothered by the incline was my bad knee which seems to act up going up hill and even more so going down hill.

The trail isn't very long but it's nice.  Tall trees with sunlight coming through made it look almost like an enchanted forest.  And the views!  Spectacular!  A clear straight view down to the Bras d'Or Lakes and there happened to be a sailboat right in the middle when I arrived at the top. I lingered for a short while before heading down, which was more difficult on my knee than going up.  I made it safely though.  Instead of driving back the same way I came, I went through Northside East Bay and onto Eskasoni and eventually arriving in Iona and Grand Narrows.

I stopped to rest and enjoy the view from the Highland Village parking lot before continuing on my way.  While driving along the road leading through Boisedale, I came across another road that I thought ended up in George's River.  I had heard about such a road so I took it and got to see an area of the island I don't recall ever seeing before.  And yes, it did end up in George's River and eventually back to the 105 and the route home.

The next day, I ventured to the other side of the island and ended up in Louisbourg at Kennington Cove Beach.  Weather warnings were posted warning the public that the surf around the island would be high that weekend.  Louisbourg is the perfect place to safely enjoy high surf.  And yes, the waves at the beach were very high!  And the water was still warm too.  Not that I went swimming but I couldn't help but put my toes in the water for what just might be the last time this season.  

That evening, I took a sunset stroll to the old fort near the Lingan Wind Farm.  I miscalculated the time it would take to get in and out and ended up walking out of there through some thick forest at night.  It was just starting to get dark when I arrived at the shore and I lost track of time while taking pictures and looking for deer in the field.  It seemed like it took three times longer to walk out than it did to walk in.  Every few feet I would hear something move in the woods and wonder if it was something that could have me for me lunch or just a branch moving in the wind. 

My First Attempt at Surfing...and Overcoming my Fear of Sharks and Undertows

I have to admit, I was a little scared to try surfing for the first time. Some of the other guests at Anamaya had tried it out the day before and they all came back with stories of being tossed around in large waves and the bruises they proudly showed off that evening at dinner said it all. I am only 5 feet tall, weigh just over 100 pounds and I bruise very easily. The water was rougher than usual the day they went and they were calling for even rougher surf for my first attempt. I put on my brave face and stood up to the challenge. Besides, if ziplining, jumping off waterfalls, hiking up a steep hill in 40+ degrees in mid-afternoon and walking around at night in the rainforest didn’t kill me, I was pretty sure surfing wouldn’t do me in. How hard could it be anyway? I have always wanted to try surfing. I heard the stories from surfers about the rush you get when you see that wave coming towards you and how peaceful it is to just let it take you.

A shuttle arrived around noon to pick me up and take me to Playa Grande on the outskirts of Montezuma. I assumed the shuttle would drop me off at the beach and I would just get out, grab a surfboard and commence my lesson. My guide neglected to inform me that there was a 45-minute hike involved and it was very hot out. After spending a good amount of time applying that dreadful SPF 60 and changing out of my flip flops into more comfortable walking sandals, we set out towards Playa Grande.

The walk to the surfing area was spectacular. A well-beaten trail along rocky coastline and sandy beaches that were literally deserted, making for a very serene backdrop almost like something you would see in one of those movies about passengers being stranded on a deserted island after their ship is wrecked at sea.

Playa Grande was a sight to behold with its soft sand and surfboards lined up waiting for someone to claim them and bring them to their calling beyond the breakwater and waves…massive waves. After a very quick lesson on how to hold the board, how to get the board past the breakwater and how to stand on the board, I was ready to try my first attempt ever at surfing...once I tossed aside thoughts of shark attacks and strong currents sweeping me out to sea. Initially, it did not go well. Trying to get a surfboard through very rough breakwater is not as easy as it looks. With each and every wave that broke around me, I lost my grip on the board and was sent careening through the surf, banging every limb off the ocean floor while the board flew dangerously in all directions, threatening to knock me unconscious. It was wipe out after wipe out for the first hour or more. I swallowed so much sea water that I actually got sick to my stomach but I was determined not to give up; I was determined that I would make it to where those big waves were cresting and catch one wave back to shore.

I eventually made it past the breakwater and was greeted by cheers from my instructor and some other more seasoned surfers. I continued to be battered and beaten by the waves but managed to climb on the board, get into position and catch one. But stand up and ride it into shore I did not. I remained on my belly until the board shifted sideways and I was tossed into the surf to acquire more cuts and bruises. Once again, I fought my way back through the breakwater to repeat this torturous routine over and over again until finally, I positioned myself on the board before a massive oncoming wave, looked straight ahead, waited for my instructor’s signal and finally managed to stand on the board and let that wave take me all the way back to shore! And it was amazing. I will never forget the feeling for as long as I lie. That feeling that pro surfers are always talking about. That feeling that keeps surfing enthusiasts going back to the sea in search of that adrenaline rush that one can only feel when they become one with the unforgiving sea.

Sunburned, beaten and bruised, I fought to stay awake through dinner back at Anamaya and than crashed immediately after. I had never been so tired in my life! Who knew surfing could be so exhausting? I knew one thing; I fell in love with the sea all over again that day. I conquered my fear of those massive waves and forced myself to push through when it looked like there was no hope in me ever catching a wave and now I know what all the fuss is about!