Memoirs

Kayaking

Kayaking
By Connie Biddle Morrison

I read somewhere that when you can’t think of anything to write about, you should do something worth writing about. So, around the first of June, I signed up at our local community college to take an introduction to kayaking course. For me, the key word in the course detail was “introduction” because I have never kayaked before. I skimmed right over the part about the class including the basics of self and assisted rescue.
Trying to make sure there were no surprises, I called the instructor to let him know I was almost seventy and had never set foot in a kayak in my life. Of course, he said not to worry. He laughed, saying he had had eighty year-olds sign up for classes in the past.
Four days before the “in the water” part of the course, the class met at the college for two hours of instruction where we received handouts on Modern Paddling Theory, Lightning Safety and Injuries, Hypothermia, and a Recipe for Dehydration. Near the end of the class, Brack, our instructor, handed out a Kayak Exam. He alternated around our class of five until we answered all twenty-five questions correctly. Also, we received the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission’s Boat Smart Handbook.
As I expected, my four classmates were much younger, one girl in her twenties, a married couple, who were maybe thirty, and a man, who looked to be forty or younger. Brack talked about wearing clothing that wicked, shoes that would not get stuck and pulled off in the underwater muck, and the importance of plenty of drinking water. Sunscreen, insect repellant, a hat and strap for glasses, dry clothes, and a snack were other “be sure to bring” items. Oh, and we all had to sign a waiver releasing Brack from any responsibility.
We had our in-the-water kayaking lesson early Saturday morning at Poe Springs on the Santa Fe River. It was quite an experience. My first surprise was the seat. This was a sit-on kayak. I'm not sure what I expected, but the seat was hard plastic (just like the kayak) with a little piece of detachable plastic-covered foam for a backrest. The instructor, now secretly known to me as Simon Legree, actually said he would detach the backrest if we used it too much. He reminded us that posture is important just like mommy said.
After a few warm-up exercises and watching some paddling techniques while standing in a circle, he told us to unload the kayaks, two people per boat. I asked how much they weighed. He said 55 pounds. Okay, I thought, I can do that. We placed them two by two in a row down the side of the boat ramp leading into the river. It was early, and the park was deserted. "Simon", ever the optimist, pointed out some poison ivy along the side of the ramp.
I looked out at the river and with all the rain we have been having in Florida, there was some flooding and a swift current. We put our two-piece aluminum paddles together...again, stored our water bottles and dry bags, and got a quick lesson on the anatomy of the kayak. All of them were 16' long and yellow/green except for Simon's. His was blue. And I noticed his paddle was offset while ours were not. He said you had to be more proficient for that.
What I was worried about, getting into the kayak, was the easiest part of the day. It was not a problem at all. The kayak was barely in the water at the edge of the boat ramp. Just step in and sit down. After sitting and adjusting our footpads, we pushed off with our oars and rowed upstream, as instructed, against the current while we were nice and fresh. We looked like Papa Duck and his ducklings...except Papa Duck could yell. "You're not rowing with your torso." Torso? The lifejacket choked me. It was so tight I could barely breathe let alone twist. Did I mention I had never been in a kayak before in my life? Hey, I'm almost seventy...somebody feel sorry for me. Nope! Keep paddling.
Finally, Papa Duck moved over to the shoreline and the ducklings followed. Simon gave us a quick demonstration of in-the-water self-rescue. That is, if you are dumped, this is how you get back into your kayak. Reach across, grab the handle, kick your feet in the water and wiggle your way back on. Then, off we went again, underneath a huge oak limb hanging across the river. It was beautiful. Simon turned right, toward a very, narrow opening to a little pond-like area on the side of the river. The opening was wide enough for one kayak and riddled with cypress nubs in a water depth of about 6". Simon backed up some, paddled like Hades, and sped through the opening. I sat and watched as my cohorts all took a turn, some two or three times before they were able to navigate through the narrow obstructed passageway. Everyone was through except me. I tried my best but ended up having to be helped, so embarrassing. In the little pond, we learned to do 360-degree turns, clockwise and counterclockwise, with paddle strokes called forward and backward sweeps, not nearly as hard as it sounds. I was first for a change and had no problems. I sipped some water from my bottle as I watched the others perfect their techniques.
Rested, we were ready to head back out into the river. I went last, again, but made it through this time on the first try, as did everyone else. Whew! We paddled a little farther upstream. Blue dragonflies perched on my bow for a free ride. The river was beautiful, the breeze cool, but the sun was getting hot. Several other paddlers, canoes and kayaks, were in the water, all headed downstream. We all said "hi" and smiled, and wondered when we would get our "free ride" with the current.
The river was getting too crowded so Simon turned and headed us back downstream. We gathered at the side first, and he said we would go a short distance past our boat ramp to an eddy he was familiar with near the side of the river. There, we could practice our self-rescue part of the course. We followed him out in a line, staying to the right of the river. Paddling was a breeze now. Before I knew it, we passed our boat ramp, and, soon, we were at Simon's eddy. Too, soon.
Several times Simon demonstrated falling over the side of his kayak and flipping the boat. Little handles were on each side of the cockpit, not for carrying, but for turning upright when flipped. He showed us the maneuver. Reach under the boat with one hand, grab the handle, and push up the closer side with the other hand...voila, upright. Everyone took a turn and, of course, Chicken Little was last again. The water was only about waist high. I had no fear of water. It was the getting back into the boat part that was worrying me. I was pretty tired, and my legs were feeling a little leady. But I was game, the water was cold and looked refreshing even though it was muddy from the recent storms.
Contrary to what I thought, kayaks are extremely difficult to turn over. I actually dumped myself, and my kayak stayed upright. So, I had to turn it over and then upright it. That was the easy part. Getting back into it was hard. The effort reinforced my need to work on upper body strength. I finally wriggled back in and took a breather and a few drinks of water. We headed back upstream to our boat ramp. I was the last one getting there, of course, and very tired, but I made it. Standing took some effort, too, after sitting in the kayak for a couple of hours, but the thought of lunch propelled me forward.