This kayak adventure is not a new one. Instead, it's a throwback, a homage if you will, to dear Trea. He was featured in the first story on #backontheyak. Sadly, that was the last time I saw him. He's out doing his thing at college. On his way to becoming a very successful doctor, I'm sure. I miss him, of course, but we had our time. As short as it was, it was still pretty rad. So here's a story of one of the many times he accompanied me while kayaking.
I pull up to his driveway and sit for a minute. I don't even have to get out of the car. The garage door grumbles open and he emerges. He doesn't wave at me or smile at me. Instead he smirks, walks right up to my window, and presses his phone against it. I stare at it blankly.
He points to the time and mouths, "7:31."
I roll my eyes and laugh, "Oh my gosh. God forbid, I'm one minute late. You'll be alright."
He just shakes his head out of disappointment.
"Just get your kayak and c'mon."
Trea and I have mastered Mallini's. No shocker there. After 7+ times of going in and out of the bay in every which way possible with each other, we decided the two of us are ready to graduate to bigger and better things. The Wolf River.
I turn onto the dusty gravel road and park next to some fishermen. There aren't any other kayakers or paddleboarders, just some teenagers tossing the fishing line in the water. So really we have the place to our selves. That's always nice.
We help each other put the kayaks in the sandy water and strap on our life vests. Trea asks which way we should go. Without thinking I say right. We pass under a bridge and paddle by a few logs that Trea first thinks are gators. It's fourth of July weekend so every now and then we play chicken with boats and jet skiers before eventually merging to the right so they can zip by.
Now, as great as it was to get out of Mallini's and get some new scenery, the scenery on the Wolf didn't have much variation. It consisted of only bush, tree, bird, log, bush, tree, bird, log, bush, tree, bird, log, bush, tree, bird, log. After a while, that gets old really quickly. There's no way to tell how far you've gone or how fast you're going. You look back and think, "Is that the bush I just passed? Or the one I looked at 30 minutes ago?" There were no houses to admire or people to wave at. Just bush, tree, bird, log.
After a while, Trea speaks up, "Oh Jillianne! You'll appreciate this. I started a journal."
I laugh, "Why?"
"I just write about my day."
"Alright, groovy. How long have you been doing this?"
He grins, "I started yesterday."
"Okay," I smile at him, "you've got to start somewhere."
We come across a fork in the river. Trea continues on to examine a log that looks like a pipe that looks like an alligator. I turn around. I don't bother telling him, he'll figure it out, he's smart. And if that fails, I have my phone.
The way back is nice. Me and myself, as they say. I try to get a grasp on how fast I am going. Sure I have my app telling me my pace but that doesn't help. I look for something in the distance that I can use as a reference point. Alas. I look back every few minutes or so to see if Trea has caught up to me yet. Again, alas. Still just me and myself.
Finally, as I'm crossing under the bridge again, something rams into me.
Trea.
"I thought for sure you'd be asleep in the car by the time I got back," he laughs, "Or worse, that you'd just straight up leave me here."
I punch him in the shoulder, "I'd never do that to you."
Distance 3.55 miles
Time 1:18:39
Min/Mile 22:09
Calories 319
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