Travel Rogue

July 09, 2005

Wet Exit: Lost My Cherry

Wake up chilly at 6a. The cover hog is apparently at home in the wilderness as it is in the city. No matter. *YOINK* This action seems to provoke the displaced cover hog, and earnest struggles continued for a short while until Brenda's voice cuts through the morning air. "Guys? Breakfast's ready!" In two snaps, Dave and I are up and briskly moving toward the tables. There are about 8 other fellow kayak/campers, including a quite tasty looking man who appears to be scrambling eggs in a pot over a propane stove. Now that's sexy. Furthermore, there is a big plastic thermos of hot coffee. I am in heaven. The tasty looking man is Mick, a crazy UK transplant who is also one of our kayaking guides.

While we chow, Brenda runs down the day's agenda. Then we hit the beach. A bit of a snafu at first, as the van and trailer head to one landing, while all the rest of us arrive at a different beach. We do eventually come together, grinning at the mishap.

First, we spend about an hour on land getting familiar with the equipment. We're assigned kayaks based on our heights, and I land a snazzy, teal Shadow. We go over some basic paddling techniques, then each of us performs a wet exit before we take off. The idea of a wet exit has me nervous. What if a contact falls out? What if I panic? What if I choke on water? Brenda runs us through the process. If you tip over, first thing, tap three times on the underside of the kayak, so that fellow paddlers know, 1) you flipped; and, 2) you're conscious. Makes sense. Brenda jokes that you can gauge the experience level of a kayaker by the tempo of the raps. Oh, I believe it! Three taps, please! I'm sure I'd be banging away, three tap rule be damned. After tapping, the hands go back underwater to grasp the mouth of the boat right by your hips. Hands follow the edge of the mouth forward ending at the "Oh Shit" handle. Yank, pull, twist, surface. Oh, and don't loose the paddle. All good in theory. So it's my turn. Paddle out to Brenda. Look at her. Rock a couple times feeling right at the edge of fear. My heart's going and I'm thinking, "Am I going to be able to do this?" Before I had the chance to completely explore and wallow in my fear, the kayak tips and I'm fully immersed. Unexpectedly, this sense of calmness comes over me. The anticipation of the dunk is gone, and all that's left is the need to deal. I open my eyes briefly and see the brown of the water made light by the sun. Algae and sediment float gracefully by and the current is gentle, not forceful. I'm not feeling the sense of disorientation and panic I thought I would. I feel like I'm neither up nor down, but just there. Tap three times, yank, twist, surface. Brenda's smiling. Then she says, "Where's your paddle? Where's your boat?" Ah, details.

Posted by carolyn at July 9, 2005 02:38 PM

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