December 26, 1999

The end (of year one)

Trip #73

Water Temp: 36 degrees f

'Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except me.

It was supposed to end the way it began. A short 5-mile paddle from Leesylvania State Park to retrace the path of my maiden voyage. Things never go the way I plan, and as I unloaded the kayak I realized conditions are not in my favor. My path would take me north, with the wind. This would mean a long and hard paddle against the wind on the way back. As I launched through the small but persistent waves crashing on the beach, I knew it would be too difficult and I would have to change my plans for my final paddle of the year. A little surfing and bracing practice and I'm ready to go home. The wind is biting through three layers of gloves. This is not how it was supposed to end. I try to beach and capsize as I'm getting out of the kayak. My kayak now filled with water and sand. It is time to go home.

When I decided to journalize my first year kayaking, I never gave much thought to how much real work this would take. As I look back I'm glad I did it. I'm just as glad it's over. Journalizing has allowed me to "re-live" many of the trips again, and recall events that would have surely been forgotten in the recesses of my brain. But it takes a lot of time to put experiences to paper.

I remember my first trip well. Going in circles and hoping no one would see. Being in water too cold to survive for any length of time if I had capsized. Barely getting my kayak back on my truck after paddling just 5 miles. So proud of the wood strip kayak I had built.

I remember my first open water crossing. Middle of February in water still too cold for my attire. More than a bit nervous as I crossed 3 miles of open water. Happy enough to have made it across alive.

I certainly recall the first time I paddled with another human being. The first trip of many with my new friend Joan. The first trip with a rudder on my wood kayak. Not finding the Island we had set off to find.

I think of the homeless in their shanties along the Anacostia River. Meeting Mardi and enjoying her enthusiasm for the wild. I'll never forget taking my kids for their first paddle. Or them asking later "Dad, can I go kayaking with you tomorrow?" Seeing the wooden ship graveyard at Mallows Bay or struggling in my attempts to learn how to roll. The baby ducks and geese as they hatched in the spring.

I remember with great appreciation my first CPA trip and Greg Welker giving me the help I needed to finally accomplish my roll. Bill Dodge and his love of local history. I remember this trip as the first time I became concerned about the wellbeing of another kayaker, and suddenly appreciated the strengths, knowledge, and support of a group.

I try to forget that time out in the Chesapeake where I was out beyond what my skill level should have allowed. But remember the experience I gained and the extension of my abilities. I recollect a second trip with the poise of a more experienced paddler. I remember going out with a brand new kayaker on his first trip and having the confidence I could get him back in his boat when he capsized. I remember the awesome display of fireworks from the cockpit of my kayak.

How could I possibly forget that magical first ocean paddle, and paddling with dolphins? And the day when I paddled the boat that would replace my wood kayak? My first moonlight paddle, my 500th mile?

I recall each smiling face and the enjoyable personas of everyone I've met. The outstanding fellowship and skills workshop of the warm waters of Lake Anna during the fall color change. The big city harbor, working on skills and improving my abilities. The multitude and diversity of online advice.

Experiencing majestic eagles flying along the bluffs with seven other people near my side. The quiet deafening of rain. The trepidation in every trip. The solitude and inner reflection of paddling alone.

These are some of the things I remember from my first year of kayaking. The recorded beginning of my newest journey. As I enter year two, I won't continue to write about every trip, but I will write about the special ones.

To those who sit where I sat a year ago, my advice is "just do it", but learn to do it safely. Journalize this special time so you can look back on it as I have today. And share those adventures to encourage the ones that follow you. To those who have already traveled down my road, I say "Thanks for teaching me and getting me here in one piece."

As I put the final words to this first year, I can't help feeling a little sad that it is over. I find it hard to stop typing, knowing that when I sign my name it is officially complete. Like growing older it happened all too quickly.

Peace,