An effort to visit the river
The first time I tried to get out on the water, my attempts were frustrated. I was balked of my best-laid plans. I knew water was exactly what I needed for self-care and restoration, so I went to rent a kayak. They were too cautious to rent it to me – because I was alone. To be fair, the wind was kicking up and I do know that exacerbates the entire process of hoisting the bark to the car top and then unloading the vessel and transporting it to the water. Yet, it feels unfair when folks are immediately skeptical of you because you are alone. If you wait until someone can go with you, there are so many adventures you will miss. Yes, they were skeptical of my being alone – and skeptical of my vocabulary. Apparently my use of the words “tether” and “dry-sack” were no more acceptable than being alone.
On my way home from that curtailed attempt, I discovered another kayak rental shop where the boats were already in the water, accordingly, I returned the following weekend. I tethered my hat, rolled my phone in the tiny dry sack, packed a lunch and essentials in a daypack and arrived in time to rent a kayak for two hours.
The young rental attendant walked ahead of me on the floating dock, turned left on an extension where three kayaks were moored, grabbed one by the rope, chose a different one, “This one,” she said. “Get in, I hand your things.” Fortunately, I had just taken time to snap on my PFD. I stepped aboard, plopped on the seat back, she passed me my backpack and the oar and walked away. There I was, bobbing in 20 feet of water, somewhat balanced, sitting on top the back of the seat that should have been properly adjusted and supporting my back, holding a daypack that needed to be secured in bungees either fore or aft and holding an untethered uni-paddle. This felt much more precarious than stepping into a river and shoving off a fully loaded and secured kayak. So much for being trained and prepared. Somehow I maneuvered the back support from my butt hold, vaguely attached my daypack and reversed out of the parking space. And my rear was immediately wet. Which brings out a major difference between sit-in and sit-on kayaks. A major difference, but no major problem, for I had remembered my river mentor’s (Janice) sage advice and I was not wearing cotton panties. The open lake was glorious. I paddled straight to the other side, beached my bark (which was actually polyethylene not wood) and walked toward some rock formations I had been longing to explore. Lunch was had on a sand dune. Returning to my kayak, I took a leisurely exploration counter-clockwise back to the marina. As I paddled, I noticed soreness beginning, right there in the purlicue, where my thumb joins my hand. By the time I reached the marina, a layer of skin sloughed off. But that did not dampen my enjoyment, nor did it stop me from repeating the whole kayaking process the following day – even better prepared with moleskin and paracord.
River or Lake, this no mere water; it came from Colorado – as did I.
