OUTRIGGERS DRAWN TO THE WAVES FOR RELAXATION.

Byline: Lisa Mascaro Daily News Staff Writer

Phil Gumbert was a 19-year-old running along the beach when he met an outrigger who introduced him to the sport, and he was hooked.

And still is.

At 40, the Camarillo resident has been an outrigger longer than he hasn't (he met his wife paddling), attached to the sport that combines the rush of skimming across the water, the beauty of the sea and the company of friends.

``We're all different types of people: millionaires to people who sleep in their cars,'' said Gumbert, who runs his own construction company. ``They're all good people who have a common bond, the canoe.''

At the crack of dawn most Saturday and Sunday mornings, outriggers climb into their $6,500-$8,500 canoes up and down the coast and slice across the ocean in the sport of old.

Six men or women face forward in a 42-foot-long canoe, barely a yard's width from side to side, and paddle. After 30 minutes, they rest briefly, then paddle for 30 more, sliding miles across the sea.

It's a sport as much about riding fast in dangerous waters as it is a culture that fosters deep respect for the seascape passed along from island paddlers in Polynesia and Hawaii centuries ago.

``I've had a good day if I go paddling,'' said Carolyn Pidduck, a schoolteacher in Ventura and president of the Hokuloa Outrigger Club in Ventura. ``You leave your day behind. It's really magical.''

The Kalifornia Outrigger Association, formed in 1965 with two clubs, now counts 22 groups from Avila Beach to San Diego, including the one in Ventura, and more than 1,500 members.

Last weekend's accident, which marked what some say are the first fatalities among Southern California outriggers, has caused the paddlers to pause.

Six veteran outriggers, the kind of guys who had dropped away from the club circuit for their own no-frills group of friends, were heading back to shore from a morning ride off Channel Islands Harbor when their canoe filled with water. One paddler, John Deblin, died of hypothermia in the ocean water, and another, Scott Sullenger, is missing and presumed dead.

``It's a wake-up call for us,'' said Nancy Dopp, an officer with KOA who lives in Venice and has been paddling for nearly 20 years. ``You tend to forget. You forget about Mother Nature.''

For all the bravado about riding atop 15-foot waves off the shores of Hawaii or finishing the annual 30-mile Catalina to Newport race in four hours, outriggers say they are a grounded group.

They are construction workers, doctors and office managers who work hard and play hard, or as Pidduck puts it, ``really have their feet on the ground.''

The accident that has rippled through the community is the kind of thing few have suggested resolving with more rules and regulations. They say they all know it's best to paddle with a buddy boat, pack life jackets and keep bailers on hand to scoop out water if the canoe fills with water or swamps. They've braced at times, hoping their crafts won't tip. They practice over and over in the calm waters of the harbor to perfect what to do if it does. They spend hours during the winter off season painstakingly going over their 450-pound craft, looking for tiny punctures that need mending.

``What happened with Ben Taitai's group, I can't say it was avoidable,'' said Pidduck, referring to the leader of the group in last Sunday's accident.

``Even though we do all those things right, things can go wrong,'' she said. ``It's always a judgment call: Are you in over your head?''

Many paddlers from the clubs were planning to attend the service Saturday for Deblin at Silver Strand Beach.

And many were planning to be in the water Sunday for the morning rides.

The season will start back up again next month, after taking time off during the winter when the sun sets too early for evening rides. Soon enough the twice-weekly after-work practices will resume.

And with it the rush of riding the waves. And the splendor of sharing the water with sea life. And, with luck, the sunset at the end.

``I just come away with a better feeling,'' Dopp said. ``You're out there, playing with the dolphins. It's just the best thing for me. My worst day can be made better by getting down there at night.''

Gumbert from Camarillo is among those who won't be back on the club circuit this season. He's taking time off from the Hokula group, where he had been the men's coach, because with his business he said he has grown away from the evening practices and weekend events.

But not away from paddling.

He plans to join in for the occasional race, when there's an empty seat needing to be filled, and to just head out for an hour or two with friends who have been at it for years and now have their own vessels.

``I'll still paddle,'' he said. ``When you're away from the people, and you're out there on your own with nature, I feel blessed.''