July 10, 2005
Day 2: Going in Tandem
Dave and I decide to take out the tandem kayak. "The test of a great relationship!" Brenda also teaches me how to use a feathered paddle. Basically, the right hand functions like a motorcycle throttle. I needed to switch up grips, because yesterday's chop rubbed nasty blisters into both my thumbs. Didn't realize how bad they were until one started bleeding in the morning. Guess the water numbed the pain? Anyway, easily fixed. Slapped on a band-aid and duck tape and was good as new. The camaraderie at the breakfast table is so much tighter after an evening of s'mores. The laughing is easier and moments of silence fewer. Down at the beach, Kathy, one of our fellow paddlers leads us in a sun salutation. All of us in a circle in the sand, stretching.
Then it's time to hit it. As I settle into the front of the tandem, I have this comical image in my head that his weight (he's 6'5" and pretty muscular) is going back-weight the kayak and I'll end up paddling air. I'm smirking as he pushes us off, and even though I am not elevated, I'm still amused because try as we might, we are certainly not traveling in a straight line. We meander our way over to Wendy, and Dave asks for rudder instruction. This makes everything much, much easier. After he gets the hang of it, Wendy calls out one last tip, "Be sure to raise it in shallow water!" Two minutes later, we look down and indeed, we are in shallow water. You can reach out and touch the rocks. Rudder up. However, we're in luck. We are at the mouth of the Mink River, so the current is pretty light and gives us the opportunity to get in synch. Well, gives Dave the opportunity to get in synch with my rhythm, because I can't really see what he's doing behind me. For all I know, he may not even be paddling! Once we get it together, we're booking along leaving the single kayaks behind. The tandem is unwieldy to steer, but on a straight course, this baby is fast! There's some kind of kayak festival going on, so we pass several other groups on the river and exchange friendly waves. In the middle, we all "raft up" and Brenda pulls out a huge bag of candy and trail mix. The guides demonstrate a series of rescues and maneuvers, and we all chat and take pictures. Really a lovely experience. On the way back, our last stretch of paddling with this group, Mick dumps out of his craft and stradles our tandem. Dave and I are just ripped with laughter. Stellar trip.
Posted by carolyn at 09:06 AM | Comments (0)
July 09, 2005
Day 1: Embrace the Chop
The wet exit is complete and we get to paddling! Instinct makes me drag my paddle in the water to execute a turn. Mick offers a quick pointer, the sweep turn, that makes a huge difference. This simple move turns the kayak without a significant reduction in momentum. Wendy, the third of our guides, who earns the affectionate nickname, "Kiwi," rides with the middle of the pack. Beautifully tanned with a New Zealand accent and an easy smile, her laidback attitude sets just the right mood. I'm not wasting energy trying to plow through the water, rather I'm enjoying a smooth steady pace and my mind stops churning. After about an hour, we head back in for a quick lunch. Brenda, Mick and Kiwi lay out a feast of chips, trail mix, cheese warmed by the sun, pita and oh, yum, a tube of liverwurst. Personally, I love liverwurst...and discovered that a smear of the brown stuff topped with sharp cheddar and stuffed in a pita is spectacular! Lots of good yummy protein that came in handy later when during the second bit of the day we hit the chop. It's painful at first. The waves smack against the kayak and gauging by the horizon, I'm not getting anywhere. But then, something inside clicks and I get it. It's not about getting anywhere, it's about kayaking. I set aside my own pace, and go with the chop. Dig the paddle in and push off the wave, leveraging its momentum instead of my own. And that's when everything changes. The burn in my deltoids disappears, the knot of tension in my gut disappears, the frustration in my mind disappears. Instead of looking at the horizon, I'm being hypnotized by the waves, by the sun glinting off each peak, and by the pull of the water on each stroke of the paddle. Somehow, my body has figured out how to resonate on its own.
Posted by carolyn at 05:17 PM | Comments (0)
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 02:38 PM | Comments (0)
July 08, 2005
Camping in Door County
Remember how excited you'd get as a kid the night before a trip? So much so that you couldn't sleep, that you packed and re-packed your backpack hundreds of times to make sure you had the right books, the right toys, etc.? As I get older, that level of excitement seems so much harder to attain. But boy oh boy, did I get it last night!
All this morning, I was jiggling up and down on my Aeron chair at work counting the minutes until 5p. At that magical moment, my weekend began.
Dave and I headed up to Door County on a Northwest Passage kayaking trip. A five hour drive north from Chicago...all the whey through Wisconsin to the very, very tip of the peninsula jutting out into Lake Michigan. So far north, in fact, that if instead of crossing Lake Michigan, you crossed the bay, you'd be in Canada.
The Potbelly's sammiches lasted a mere hour on the road. They were demolished even before we hit Milwaukee. When we finally pulled into Peninsula State Park, it was 10:30p. Pitch black. Sky full of stars. We rolled into our group campsite (only took one wrong turn) and as soon as we were out of the car a blinding bright spotlight about head-high starts moving toward us. As the light gets closer, a body materializes underneath. It's Brenda, our head guide and kayak instructor. They were expecting our late arrival. Brenda's first words, "The toilets don't flush." Yes indeedy, every summer I somehow end up camping with pit toilets. Apparently it's a trend. Brenda shows us to our tent, and Dave and I settle in for the night.
It's amazing, the feeling I get the first night out in the woods. There are so many noises that you forget about living in the city. So many smells. It's almost like submerging yourself in a pool, the water just touches every single part of you leaving absolutely no doubt that you are in a different environment. It's that feeling I get in the night that I just can't live without.
Posted by carolyn at 12:15 PM | Comments (0)