While I love hiking, I decided it was time to add to my outdoor repertoire. Water sports sound like the perfect idea with the incessant heat we have been having. I have mentioned before about my bad knee, and I truly thought that kayaking was the answer, as you don’t need your knees to kayak right!?! Wrong, as I was about to learn.
We chose beginner kayaks, which have a wider base to be more stable on the water. So far so good. I asked friends about the best way to get into the craft and liked the one idea of just straddling it and sitting down. Easy peasy! We took the kayaks to the local river that has a public boat ramp, and a calm river flowing out to the Georgian Bay. I put the front end of the kayak in the water and walked with legs on either side. Well, that extra wide body on the kayak was a little too wide for me to straddle, and I had to abandon that idea. No problem, I will just step into it from the side. Hmm, which leg first, the good leg or the bad one? Let’s try the good leg first. Step into the kayak, check. Bend the bad leg to start to sit, and here I am sitting not in the kayak but in the water. Right, that bad leg doesn’t bend, so when I went to sit that darn leg went up in the air instead of into the boat, and over I went. Ok, no problem, bad leg first it is. I gingerly approached the kayak that I was now thinking of being my nemesis, and I am sure I heard it chortling at my failures. Ok, ok, here we go, bad leg into the kayak, slide it down and sit….in the warm water. The bad leg could not hold my weight as I attempted to get my other leg in and gave out. Sigh, this might be more of a process then I was expecting.
I should mention that this area we are in is very popular. People walk their dogs, ride their bikes and, just above us, is the highway into Midland. Cars driving by with people craning their necks to watch my humiliation. By now I was wet, muddy and absolutely determined to get in this darn watercraft by any means possible. I stared long and hard at that bright orange kayak, before tentatively approaching it like I would a wild animal. A small and gentle wave nudged the boat, and I jumped back sure that the kayak was a bucking bronco ready to fling me back into that water. Slowly, oh so slowly, I reached out to touch its plastic hull to steady it, then placed my paddle across it to provide more stability. Oh so gently I put my bad leg back in, slowly, slowly starting to lower my self by using that paddle to prevent me from abruptly falling. Ok here we go, good leg in and finally, I am sitting in the kayak instead of the river. I breathed a sigh of relief and pushed myself away from the shore into the gentle current.
The next hour was perfect, as we learned how to maneuver our kayaks. The water was dark and still, green water lily pads dotting the river along with duck weed. Closer to the shore tall reeds hid mallard ducks, while Canada geese paddled through the deeper waters. Partially submerged logs provided sunning spots for large numbers of painted turtles, who were unconcerned with our approach. So much so that when I attempted to take a picture of them, my kayak banged into the log and knocked all the sunbathing turtles into the water. Oops. A blue and white kingfisher darted over head, before diving into the river in the search for small fish while tiny marsh wrens warbled their calls from the tops of cattails. The stillness was incredible peaceful and soul soothing, even though the sun beat down relentlessly, making me thankful for my very unfashionable hat. After an hour of paddling, we headed back to the boat launch. I stared with trepidation at the shore, as I had come to the realization that I now had to get back out of the kayak. Sigh, I will leave it up to your imagination as to how this went, only to say that I was very wet once again.