First-time waverunner ‘bravely’ takes on wind-blown bay

Oh, sure. The forecast calls for only 70-degree weather and chilly 25-mile-an-hour winds on the day I decide to jump on a waverunner in Manahawkin Bay. The previous week on an outdoor garden tour, it was a sweltering 100 degrees. That just figures.

There was no time for acting like a baby as I headed to Route 72 Waverunner & Kayak on Bonnet Island, in what is technically still Manahawkin. Driving east on the Causeway toward Long Beach Island, I almost missed the U-turn, and with cars whizzing by, I almost missed the ramp for East Bay Avenue. Yet when I finally got on that old road, I felt like I had been catapulted into another land.

Photo by Ryan Morrill
Route 72 Waverunner & Kayak shares a beautiful
spot on the thoroughfare with Bonnet Island Estate
in the background.

Passing a quiet marina with bobbing boats to the west, and then past beautiful Bonnet Island Estate as I approached the water’s edge, opposite the landmark The Dutchman’s Brauhaus, I noticed a small hut with big, colorful signs – “Waverunner & Kayak Rentals” – which assured me I was in the right place. It was almost 10 a.m., and the west wind was blowing strong. But I didn’t care. (I soon learned the hard way that this was the type of wind you want to avoid on the water.)

About a decade ago, when we were all teenagers, my older brothers had gotten a chance to ride waverunners during a family vacation in the Bahamas, while I watched from the beach, angry I wasn’t allowed to join them. Now it was my turn.

I had decided on wearing long pants over my bathing suit, but when I jumped out of my car and saw the water, I had second thoughts and changed into the shorts I meticulously packed in my bag (yes, I’m that indecisive). But all clothing bets were off when owner Scott Hemmes insisted I wear a spring suit – a wetsuit with three-quarter sleeves and short pants reaching to the knees.

“You’re never going to find a wetsuit that fits me,” I told him, politely. But Scott took the challenge and quickly sent employee Brad Ahto to fetch a shorty from the nearby Ron Jon Surf Shop in Ship Bottom. I thought for sure Ahto wasn’t going to be able to find my size, but to my surprise, he came back with exactly the right dimensions – a child’s suit, I presumed.

After zipping into the snug-fitting wetsuit and buckling into a life jacket, I began to feel (and look) the part. Then I sat down to fill out paperwork and sign my life away. “Wear this, keep that attached, do this, don’t do that, scan constantly, operate defensively…” My head was starting to spin. It was my responsibility whether I injured myself or crashed the boat.

Okay, fine. These things must be said. What really got under my skin was the demonstration video, which seriously stressed the need for a wetsuit to protect against forceful water entry into, and I’m quoting here, “the rectum or vagina.” I squeezed my legs together and glanced at Hemmes with a nod of appreciation for supplying a my-size wetsuit.

After listening to employee Jay Desch explain the rules of the water and the proper way to drive a personal watercraft, I had become so confused about what button was what and which lever was which, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to handle this beast by myself. (I’m very much a visual learner, so listening to Desch's instructions got me nowhere, except into a further state of panic!)

Swallowing my pride, I looked at the four guys getting ready to push me and two other waverunners into the bay, and pleaded with puppy dog eyes for one of them to accompany me on the ride. I was immediately told employees were not allowed to ride with customers. But after sensing my fear, Hemmes allowed Ahto to join me on the back of the Sea-Doo watercraft. Ahto told me flatly that I was in charge of driving.

This is where I must make clear that this kind of exception was a one-time consideration. All riders (minimum age 5) to age 15 must ride with a friend or family member. Anyone 16 and over, with proper identification, may ride solo. Those 17 and under must provide a parent/guardian signature.

After Ahto saddled up behind me, I let Desch and Kevin Waitikowich push us backward off the dock ramp. Then it was just Ahto and I on the waverunner, followed by waverunner patrolman Joe Scriffiano, who was there to guide us if we encountered any trouble on the rough, open bay. Accelerating slowly through the no-wake zone, I realized I could barely steer straight against the stiff cross-breeze from the west. But with Brad’s coaching, I eventually got it (sort of).

For a while, I thought I might just laze around the bay. But with Ahto behind me, I summoned some nerve.

Photo by Ryan Morrill
Gosh, I look terrified. But how cute is that boy?!

“Should I accelerate?” I asked him timidly.

“Go for it,” he encouraged.

I squeezed the throttle lever on the right handgrip and zoomed through the water, heading straight for the first white buoy I saw. I knew those buoys kept other boaters away from the waverunners, and that’s where I wanted to stay: as far away from everyone else as possible.

I had forgotten what I had been told about keeping the throttle going when turning, so when I tried to steer right and the Sea-Doo didn’t cooperate, I panicked and hit the brake (the lever on the left handgrip).

“I’m sorry!” I cried out. “I didn’t mean to be such a baby!”

Chuckling a bit, Ahto tried to reassure me that I wasn’t being a wimp.

After regaining composure, I squeezed the throttle again. The waves were so choppy, the jolts kept lifting my 95-pound frame off my seat. I was gripping the handles so tightly, I knew my arms would be sore the next day. (And, wow, I was right!)

The saltwater sprayed everywhere, drenching me (and Ahto) from head to toe.

“You look great!” I joked, after catching a glimpse of Brad’s hair sticking straight up. But my lighthearted remark concealed that I was secretly nervous and was desperately trying to direct my jitters elsewhere.

I never really adapted to the speed of the waverunner amidst the choppy waves. I even had to stop a few times to sooth my stomach, which was feeling rather unsettled.

“Hey, if you need to throw up, that would be normal,” remarked Ahto, astutely observing my queasy demeanor.

I knew throwing up over the side of the watercraft wouldn’t have been normal per se, but I appreciated Brad’s efforts to comfort me.

Feeling this way sparked an old memory as a young girl of 5 years old or so: I had obliged to getting on a Jet Ski with a family friend one summer, but even moving at what was probably only five miles per hour, had me begging to get off. It’s a flashback that occasionally pops into my head during what seems like unnecessary times – except this time.

My eyes were beginning to sting. After stopping a few times to rub them, I decided to jump off the Sea-Doo and go for a hasty swim. But the water was so shallow, even for me – a mere 4-feet, 10-inches tall – that I could feel the bottom of the bay with its slimy seaweed and mushy mud. At this point, I had gotten used to the water temperature, but my life vest was floating up toward my ears, and I wanted to get back on the waverunner. After hoisting myself back up by the handle at the stern, following Ahto's instruction, I realized my toe was bleeding; I had probably stepped on a broken clamshell. Ouch!

Although I was glad to have braved the water and tried something new and adventurous, I was happy when Ahto and I were called back to the dock. I jumped off the Sea-Doo a little nerve-wracked and looked at the guys who had helped me suit up and begin the day’s adventure.

“It must be fun doing this for a living,” I said, wobbling a bit as I tried to reclaim my land legs. Although I meant what I said, I didn’t mean I would enjoy it!

“I get to work outside on the water. It’s not really a bad day,” summed up Desch, working his seventh summer at Route 72 Waverunner and Kayak.

“I’ve got saltwater everywhere: in my eyes, in my ears, in my hair,” I exclaimed, rubbing my salty arms.

Photo by Ryan Morrill
Owner Scott Hemmes has been
in the watersport business in
Ocean County for decades.

“Welcome to it,” said Ahto. “It’s my job; I’m always salty,” he added, handing me a Band-Aid for my still-bleeding toe.

I laughed and accepted the Band-Aid, happy to be back on land.

I’d had a rough first experience on a waverunner, yet I had a strong inkling that I would give it a second go another day – when the wind isn’t blowing so hard. My brothers may have gotten to ride a waverunner once, but I was going to ride one twice!

“What I love most about this business more than most is that everyone is having a good time,” said Hemmes. “They’re not paying to get their car fixed. They’re enjoying themselves, and everyone is happy around me.”

Hemmes opened the local business in 1997 after working many years at Pier One Water Sports in Toms River, and at Margo’s Marina, which is now the site of Mallard Island Yacht Club on the western edge of Manahawkin Bay.

He also operates Holgate H2O Sports on LBI, and Pedals N Paddles in Seaside Heights. He is president of America at Play Inc. and also runs several companies in Florida, including Beach Road Watersports, Beach Road Boutique and Beach Road Bistro.

To set up your own adventure at Route 72 Waverunner & Kayak, visit route72waverunner.com, or dial 609-361-7147. Summer business hours are 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. daily.


This article was published in The Beachcomber.