Attention all #backontheyak readers,
This is Sarah Anne. Maybe you remember me from some of Jillianne’s many kayaking excursions or maybe you don’t in which case this is awkward. Anyway, I don’t have much time before Jillianne notices that I’ve hacked into her blog, and I still need to tell you all the truth. You need to know the truth about kayaking.
When Jillianne first asked me to kayak with her, I was genuinely excited. Visions of high speed descents through raging rapids and close encounters with large boulders filled my mind and I was so happy knowing that we weren’t doing any of that. We would be enjoying a peaceful cruise over the consistently calm waters of Mallini’s. No daring escapades, no near death experiences, heck, we would even have life vests. It couldn’t have been better. Then the morning of our adventure arrived with the obnoxious shriek of my alarm clock. Blearily, I looked at the time. 6:30 a.m. It’s at times like this when I start to question my motivations in life. I am not a morning person and the act of rising before the sun goes against my internal programming. However, Jillianne had her heart set on our trip and she needed my car so I chalked it up to my chance to be a good friend and hopped to it.
After being guided to the right spot, we unloaded the yaks and after several shaky attempts, I managed to sit in the blue one without falling over. Jillianne gave it a shove so that I floated out into the clear water where I gleefully splashed around as I waited for her to follow suit. Gracefully she glided past and swiftly started to lead the way to our new destination. With renewed enthusiasm, I grabbed my paddle, plunged it into the cool water, pulled back with all my strength, my eyes locked on Jillianne’s trail, and sharply veered left almost into a wooden dock. Confused, I tried again, this time shifting horribly to the right. I quickly glanced at Jillianne to see how she was easily rotating her paddle, almost as if drawing circles on each side. Perhaps, the circumferences of my circles weren’t the proper size, I thought as I gripped my paddle, determined to master this technique. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Almost straight but still too far right. My arms were burning as I kept zigzagging through the once welcoming water. Had the sun always been this hot? Why was Jillianne still so far ahead? Was that a vulture? Suddenly, Jillianne turned around and asked if I was okay. Pride took over. Although it had felt like hours, it had only been maybe five minutes. I couldn’t give up, not like this, so I smiled.
“Yeah I got it, you go on ahead.” Seemingly satisfied with my answer, she turned back and continued to paddle forward. My smile turned grim as my paddle dove back into the water. I had no choice but to survive this. After all, there’s no retreat once you’re out on the water and you lack the skill to get out of the boat by yourself.
Eventually, I managed to have a few moments where my yak went straight and I even managed to catch up to Jillianne when she stopped. After a while, she told me it was break time and I dropped that paddle like it was hot. I gulped down some water as she serenely gazed at our surroundings with a smile on her face. Turning to see what was so wonderful, I nearly dropped my bottle. Somehow, we had made it to the bay where the water was wavy with a deep blue color, the seagulls were chirping overhead, and oh my goodness was the sea breeze blowing. As we bobbed up and down, I couldn’t help but marvel at the experience of being present in such a picturesque scene. The morning sky was filled with wispy, white clouds that stood out against the increasingly blue background and the sun was illuminating the trees just right so that their green leaves looked like emeralds. In this moment, I realized the truth behind kayaking. It’s difficult, it makes you get up early, it makes your arms ache, it can make you question your sanity, and can bring you to some of the most astounding locations. What’s even more amazing is that the more you go, the more you can see. Even if you’ve driven past a place countless times or kayaked through it numerous times, there is always something just around the river bend that you’ve never seen before. Maybe it’s the way the light refracts off the water’s surface or the way the current carries a cluster of leaves towards the sea, you never know what you’ll find. Sure, it requires a bit of effort, or a lot of effort, but the chance to see the world in a new perspective is something that makes it all worth it.
“Are you ready to head back?” Jillianne asked me, her kayak already pointing away from the bay. I took one last glance at the scene before nodding my head. We made it back in one piece, loaded the yaks back up into the truck, and before I knew it, I was back home sitting on my couch too tired to move. My mom walked in and quickly asked about how it went. My mind flashed to that deep blue bay as I replied,
“Not bad at all.”
There you have it. That is my unadulterated truth behind kayaking. Maybe you have a different one, and that’s okay too. It just gives me another reason to head back out there, back into the still water, because the more I kayak, the more I see and perhaps one day, I’ll catch a glimpse of another truth just waiting to be discovered underneath those glimmering waves.
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