I swam after our capsized kayak and grabbed it, then fought to get the water-filled boat to shore. I noticed immediately that its hull buckled sickeningly in the center. After struggling with the strong ebb and flow of the surf zone, I got the boat partly on shore. I turned to see Dave knee-deep in the shallows, thrashing around, trying to collect the smaller "yard-sale" items that had not been tied into the boat. He flashed a smile at me, indicating that he was OK. I helped him, and we eventually got everything high and dry. The casualties: two lost pairs of sunglasses-and our kayak. I inspected our craft and found that the two main center ribs, the side supports, the coaming, all of the bow pieces, the metal rudder fitting and the rudder were broken clean through: eleven parts in all completely trashed. About half of the frame was broken, and impossible for us to field repair. It would be unthinkable to paddle the kayak in this condition, especially on the Indian Ocean. It would act like a slinky for a while, until it broke apart due to stress on the unbroken frame parts. We were in the only uninhabited, roadless area of Java, in the farthest corner of Ujung Kulon. The water had destroyed our map; we had only a macro map of Java to go by. From my memory of the ranger maps and our macro map, we figured that we had at least 40 wilderness kilometres to cover with all of our gear to get to the first inhabited village. Dave and I packed our soaked gear and kayak into our two large duffel bags, the kayak skin bag, the frame bag, the rib bag, Dave's backpack, and my large camera case. In all, we estimated the bags to be in the neighborhood of 300 pounds. I felt pretty good, actually.