Paddle boarding, cooking, and yesterday, kayaking – was the next adventure in this time of doing things that scare me or take me out of my comfort zone. My good friend asked me to come kayaking with her on West Falmouth Harbor. I had never kayaked before – my paddle boarding experience was the first time I had ever paddled anything – and we all know how that went. (I must mention that I’m terrified to be in water deeper than 3 feet that I have to paddle anything in, and I’m pretty much sure Falmouth Harbor involved that.)
But it was a gorgeous day and I so wanted to be outdoors doing a “sport”, not just walking. (I’m not sure if kayaking qualifies as a sport.) I was as excited as I was nervous. We stopped and bought sandwiches and then took the kayaks down to the harbor. My friend drove them, one by one, in her SUV with the door open, the kayak sticking out of the back, and me riding shotgun holding the rope to keep it from falling out. As we rode, I thought of the conversation I had with my husband that morning:
Me: I’m going kayaking with my friend today.
Him: Where are going? On the ocean? On a pond? (Nervous because I’ve never done it before and after the paddle board experience, he knows I don’t know what I’m doing.)
Me: I don’t know! It’s an adventure!
I’m sure that made him feel much better. I was thinking this while holding the kayak tighter as we rounded the curves. When we got to the harbor my friend showed me how to straddle the kayak and kind of plop down into it with my feet sticking up in the air. She took the dry box with our food and keys and paddled away. After pulling my feet in, I started paddling away to try to catch up to her. She had the food. I wasn’t letting her out of my sight. It took a minute to realize I wasn’t going anywhere. I was beached and I kind of had to push myself off the sand. Once on the water, I began paddling furiously and was going at a good clip. Then I remembered I had no idea how far we were going and if I kept it up at this rate, I might not make it to lunch. About the same time I saw all the moored boats in the harbor. It dawned on me that I can’t hit these things so I better slow down and start practicing “driving”. All the way out across the harbor I experimented with different driving techniques.
It was gorgeous. Soon I caught up with my friend and we beached our boats, climbed onto the warm sand, and settled down for our wonderful lunch. Cape Cod Chips and a Woods Hole Wrap. Who knew by adding a little barbecue sauce to a chicken wrap you practically had your own barbecued feast out on the water? Genius. We sat in the warm sun and shared life stories for a long time, until I glanced up and saw her kayak beginning to float away – the tide had come in while we were talking. I jumped up and grabbed it and we decided to head back. I turned around and found water closing in behind us, too. I hadn’t realized we were on a sandbar.
On the way back we had to battle more waves due to the incoming tide. For awhile I paddled a bit furiously, practiced turning direction, missing big rocks, dodging buoys, and then more furious paddling. Once we got closer to the dock, I stopped paddling, the car was in sight and I just relaxed and let the little boat drift quietly to shore.
We reached the shore eventually and then repeated the whole driving and holding the string thing to take the kayaks home. It was an awesome adventure. We didn’t check our phones, we totally disconnected for the whole trip and it really was a space in the week between Tuesday and today.
We need spaces between the things we do everyday. Spaces afford us a bit of peace. After paddling furiously, we need to stop and quietly drift toward the shore. In life, too, we go on for months sometimes, paddling furiously, trying to stay in control and forge our way in a certain direction. When we’re wet, and tired, and cold, we realize the fighting part is over. It’s time to just quietly drift toward the shore.
And so, as another day goes by, another thing gets crossed off the bucket list, more lessons are learned from an adventure, and…I have written.
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