I drag the kayak into the water. The ramp is slippery with algae and the water cool as it collects at my knees. I pack my phone into the dry bag and tuck it into the kayak’s storage space. I wedge my shoes next to it and make sure both are secured firmly.
The club owner watches me. Once I get in the kayak he points to the headland on the other side of the bay.
“Taumeasina is a little past there.”
I follow his hand and see the port and adjacent construction site on the headland. Past them are several tall white buildings. Taumeasina is a resort and those buildings must be where it starts.
“Okay, great. What’s the best route there?” I ask keeping the kayak in place.
“Well, you can follow the curve of the bay,” he says gesturing, “Or you can go through that gap in the breakers. That is faster but you need to be quick because high tide is coming. The gap might not be there for that much longer.”
He indicates to a yellow crane in the construction site. Infront of it I can see a distinct stretch of calm blue water. On either side of it waves break. On the right, breaking onto the shore. On the left, crashing further out near the reef.
“Right, I see it. Okay, I’ll try that.”
He nods and gives me a look over.
“Take it slow when you get close to the waves and you will be fine. And remember, when you come back the gap might have moved. You can just go close to the shore if you can’t see another way through.”
I lower the paddle in the water and silently memorise the route as he described it.
“Okay thanks, will do.”
He watches me paddle out. The bay is Apia Bay. It is the major port for Samoa but is empty because it is Sunday. One fishing boat is anchored outside the reef but otherwise it is just me. The bay is on the island’s north side. The industrial side. The coastline here is all sea walled. In the south you had turquoise water and photo ready fine white sand. Here the water is deep and dark blue and the sky is washed out and seems ominous in its size.
Apia town passes on the right. Samoa’s capital. From the water, it is clear it began from one oceanfront street. From there it has built backwards. Rows of concrete houses and boxy supermarkets encroaching into the jungle. Behind it all are the clustered peaks of Mount Fito, Mount Le Pu’e, and Mount Fiamoe rising into a shrouding fog.
The kayak wobbles. I am coming into the waves. The first set are breaking against the sea wall to the right. I curve hard left to avoid the pull. The second set breaks out in the reef but are harder to manage because of the residual impact of the crashing swells.
They come in a big sweep that I see rushing from the edge of the reef until it is underneath and lifting me. It is like being in a lung. The lung of something immeasurably large and powerful that is exhaling softly. I paddle fast ignoring the strain in my arms. The thought of it taking a deep breathe motivates me.
I pass the headland and the water calms. People are snorkelling in the reef ahead. They float languid, the air pipe upright as they survey water depths. On the shore is the family that manage the reef and rents the gear. They sit on a slope with their knees to their chest and watch the snorkellers as I might watch ducks in a pond.
A few kids break off from the group. They jump in the water as they are. Shirts and long shorts. Further down the shore one of the snorkellers emerges and trudges back to the small restaurant locals have set up. She wears a bikini and the kids in the water stare curiously as they bob in the gentle ocean lift.
I stop and get out the water bottle. My arms ache but Taumeasina is in full view now. It is the biggest resort in town and sits on a small island outcrop. My hotel owner mentioned it as a lunch spot. I can see the small cove where guests swim and where I plan to park.
Bells come from the shore. It is a church. Morning mass has finished. A large crowd exits. I am not surprised. The drive from the airport to Apia seemed only churches. The driver remarked of a nearly all Christian population. He rattled of different, increasingly obscure, denominations. Roman Catholic, Protestant, Jehovah's Witnesses, Latter-day Saints, Assemblies of God, Seventh-day Adventist, Nazarene.
Some in the congregation watch me passing. They are dressed smart and embody the religion I read in history books. I nod formally at them. Growing up in Sydney was growing up post-religious. Those on the shore inhabit something I do not understand. It reminds of being in the breakers. It is an alien space.
Taumeasina’s cove has rocks on the west side. I paddle deeper out so I can curve past them. The few people in the cove watch me curiously. Once I pass the cove mouth the water pushes me forward. I gently rudder the kayak away from the swimmers towards the vacant north end of the small beach.
Kayak grounds in the sand. Sound is immensely satisfying. I drag myself out feeling the leg strain. The resort staff watched me enter and one approaches now.
“Can I help you sir?”
He is a waiter from the restaurant. His shirt is neatly tucked and spotless white. I am soaked from the waist down and my shirt is damp with prominent sweat stains.
“No, I’m fine,” I say shielding my eyes from the sun, “I just came here for lunch.”
If he is surprised, he hides it quickly.
“Ah of course, the restaurant is over there sir,” he replies gesturing.
I smile and drag the kayak onto the grass and flip it to drain the water.
“Is it okay to leave this here?”
“No problem,” he replies seemingly unflappable, “I will inform the water sports manager.”
I want to shake his hand but reconsider when I see the state of it.
“Thank you,” I say and then trudge up the slope to the restaurant.