The next morning, I am paddling the double with Robyn in the front. We’ll be paddling the final 17 nautical miles to the northeast side of the Brooks Peninsula. Robyn attempts a few strokes, but soon stows the paddle blade under the bungie in front of her. The double is a beast at the best of times, and paddling it alone is a challenge. I engage my whole body with every stroke. Within a half-hour, as we round Lawn Point, the swell stands up to form nine-foot waves and troughs. We keep our eyes focused ahead, vigilant for waves that might threaten to break. Jody’s and Buffy’s singles are getting farther and farther ahead, while Kris paddles alongside Robyn and me. The double feels solid and steady beneath me as the waves roll underneath it, and Kris is having fun playing beside us in the giant swell. We try to keep up to the other two, but it’s futile. They are barely within shouting distance now. I cannot understand why they have gone so far ahead. They must be less comfortable than Kris, Robyn and I, but I cannot understand why we have become so spread out, especially when Robyn is unable to paddle. We continue inching our way around the point. Jody and Buffy have paused around the point, where the swell has settled out. Robyn and I slide in beside Jody and Buffy. They look at us with concern, and Jody says, "I think we should pick up the pace." I am surprised, and don’t understand the need to hurry. Over the past few months, our travel style has melded, and there are now very few instances when we disagree on the water.

We paddle another six miles alongshore to a lunch spot on Heater Point. The black pebble beach is too hot to walk on in bare feet. We sit on giant driftwood logs in the sun, and try to figure out why we got so spread out and what was going through each person’s head. Jody and Buffy were not comfortable in the steep swell. We all have had moments when we weren’t comfortable. I had made the group turn back the first time we hit big seas at Dolly Island. Kris didn’t want to paddle on a windy day when the route was laced with cliffs. Jody had had a bad feeling about the fog at Cape Caution, and Robyn was uncomfortable on a windy crossing from the West Kinahan Islands. On this occasion, I couldn’t go any faster and, like Robyn and Kris, I was not overly concerned with the sea state. The lack of cohesion was a good reminder for all of us that it’s easy to get spread out and lose touch on the water. With that in mind, we launch and paddle onward to the Brooks.