So I fly over to Atlanta, take a train to my dad's house, and we drive over to the river to rent the boats. When we arrive, I become a tad disheartened. The only kayaks that are available are sit-ins, and the majority of them don't have back rests. Not to mention that there are plenty of people already out on this river. There are huge groups of college kids celebrating the beginning of summer by tying together 20 inner-tubes. The river is larger than what I had in mind, not to mention the strong current...
Maybe I was just exhausted and over-rot from my extremely full day of travel, but kayaking down that river had to be one of the worst experiences of my life. There was a moment, maybe longer than a moment, when I swore off kayaking from my life. I threw my paddle down and said, "Never again." My father was far ahead of me and I was struggling. No matter how hard I pushed forward, I was going nowhere. The current was too strong and everyone around me was too loud. I go kayaking for the experience with nature. I go for the feeling that I am getting an inside look at a special niche in the Earth that can only be accessed by kayaking there. I go for the feeling of being completely immersed and overwhelmed by a sense of contentment and serenity. I achieved none of these things on this kayaking trip. A drunk abhorrence hung over the entire river, and I wanted no part of it.
After a while, my father was becoming sick of my distaste and discomfort so he decided to lead me to a side stream that connected to the river. It was narrower, smoother, and had a lovely canopy of trees; reminding me of home. This was more like it.
As we're paddling, I notice something moving in the water about six feet away. Naturally, my first thought is that it's an alligator. But it wasn't big enough and it was making more of a splashy movement. Is it a snake? Maybe...
"Dad," I say, "What is that? A snake?"
He paddles a little closer, but the creature starts heading right towards us. We both stare at it, trying to get a better look at whatever this was.
It seemed to click for the both of us at the same time. I see the animal's little head poking above the water level and my dad and I both say, almost in unison, "A chipmunk!"
His big brown eyes were flashing at Dad as if to say, "Please get out of my way. I can't go back there, something wants to eat me." His little paws were paddling along and he seemed to be using his tail to keep his balance. Never in my life had I ever seen a chipmunk swim. I didn't even know they could swim. My dad was laughing and said, "That't the coolest thing I've ever seen. Jillianne, I know it was rough earlier, but that made the whole trip worth it."
As we go a little further, the river starts to get narrower and rocks start showing up in my path. At a certain point, we reach a small set of rapids. Water is rushing over the rocks and my dad is trying to find a way through. "We could get out of the kayaks and pulls them through and keep going?" He suggested. I paddle up to the rocks and sit to listen to the sound of the running water before saying, "I don't know, we could probably just turn around. It's getting late anyway."
"True. Let's just sit for a minute," he smiles and says.
He takes a sip of his water, looks around, and says to me, "Okay, when you get home, you have to tell your mother this."
I laugh and say, "Why?"
"I want you to say "Mom, Dad took me to this river and it was level five rapids! Mom, I was so scared" and then tell me what she says."
I throw my head back laughing and say, "Yes, because this is so threatening.."
So this kayaking trip wasn't what I thought it was going to be. It wasn't the best experience I've ever had, but it certainly wasn't the worst. I got to spend time with my father, I saw a chipmunk SWIMMING (seriously though, how cool is that?), and I got to kayak in a completely new place. Even though that trip was extremely... humbling, I am still a kayaker.
Maybe I was just exhausted and over-rot from my extremely full day of travel, but kayaking down that river had to be one of the worst experiences of my life. There was a moment, maybe longer than a moment, when I swore off kayaking from my life. I threw my paddle down and said, "Never again." My father was far ahead of me and I was struggling. No matter how hard I pushed forward, I was going nowhere. The current was too strong and everyone around me was too loud. I go kayaking for the experience with nature. I go for the feeling that I am getting an inside look at a special niche in the Earth that can only be accessed by kayaking there. I go for the feeling of being completely immersed and overwhelmed by a sense of contentment and serenity. I achieved none of these things on this kayaking trip. A drunk abhorrence hung over the entire river, and I wanted no part of it.
After a while, my father was becoming sick of my distaste and discomfort so he decided to lead me to a side stream that connected to the river. It was narrower, smoother, and had a lovely canopy of trees; reminding me of home. This was more like it.
As we're paddling, I notice something moving in the water about six feet away. Naturally, my first thought is that it's an alligator. But it wasn't big enough and it was making more of a splashy movement. Is it a snake? Maybe...
"Dad," I say, "What is that? A snake?"
He paddles a little closer, but the creature starts heading right towards us. We both stare at it, trying to get a better look at whatever this was.
It seemed to click for the both of us at the same time. I see the animal's little head poking above the water level and my dad and I both say, almost in unison, "A chipmunk!"
His big brown eyes were flashing at Dad as if to say, "Please get out of my way. I can't go back there, something wants to eat me." His little paws were paddling along and he seemed to be using his tail to keep his balance. Never in my life had I ever seen a chipmunk swim. I didn't even know they could swim. My dad was laughing and said, "That't the coolest thing I've ever seen. Jillianne, I know it was rough earlier, but that made the whole trip worth it."
As we go a little further, the river starts to get narrower and rocks start showing up in my path. At a certain point, we reach a small set of rapids. Water is rushing over the rocks and my dad is trying to find a way through. "We could get out of the kayaks and pulls them through and keep going?" He suggested. I paddle up to the rocks and sit to listen to the sound of the running water before saying, "I don't know, we could probably just turn around. It's getting late anyway."
"True. Let's just sit for a minute," he smiles and says.
He takes a sip of his water, looks around, and says to me, "Okay, when you get home, you have to tell your mother this."
I laugh and say, "Why?"
"I want you to say "Mom, Dad took me to this river and it was level five rapids! Mom, I was so scared" and then tell me what she says."
I throw my head back laughing and say, "Yes, because this is so threatening.."
So this kayaking trip wasn't what I thought it was going to be. It wasn't the best experience I've ever had, but it certainly wasn't the worst. I got to spend time with my father, I saw a chipmunk SWIMMING (seriously though, how cool is that?), and I got to kayak in a completely new place. Even though that trip was extremely... humbling, I am still a kayaker.
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