The sun had not yet risen, and it was still dark when I put the kayak into Middle Harbour, and started east to the sea. This is the part that always makes me nervous: speed limits mean nothing to amateur fishermen racing out for the day, and a lone layak sitting low in the water is hard to see at the best of times. Besides, I’ve seen them opening their first beers of the morning while the boat is still on the trailer…
Forty minutes later I passed under the bridge. A following wind and an incoming tidal swell made for a bumpy ride, and my arms were already starting to ache. Another half or so, and I reached the main harbour, directly opposite Sydney Heads:
Paddle straight ahead for another 1,500 miles and you’ll land somewhere on the North Island of New Zealand/Aotearoa. Turn about 45° to the left after you’ve cleared the heads and if you paddle for a whole lot longer you’ll end up somewhere in California. My little river boat had reached her limit, however, and keeping her upright while I took this picture was a feat of which I’m quite proud. A light rain was falling from the grey clouds overhead, but far off to east, where the sun was rising, was a new day; a light breaking through the chill gloom. And looking at this I thought of Easter, and how even the sky speaks of a resurrection which is both long ago, today, and still to come.
Turning, I surfed back into Middle Harbour, cutting in beneath the relative shelter of the Grotto Point Lighthouse. Then another hour into the wind, which was building as the sun climbed, and then home to waking children, and an Easter egg hunt, and hot cross buns and coffee, and a warm shower, and then the choral Eucharist at St. James’. Where, if I closed my eyes, I could still taste the salt spray, and hear the waves, and rejoice in the One whose victory over death is without conditions.
God Bless us all, and thanks for dropping by.