Perfect Week: Day One

   Once again, I come crawling to you all on my knees.  I apologize for my absence.  This last weekend I was in Austin, Texas and I was pretty preoccupied with my wonderful family.  But school is now over, so I am faithfully yours.
   This week is the week I embark on a "Perfect Week".  A "Perfect Week" is when one goes kayaking, paddle boarding, water sporting, etc., for seven consecutive days.  I attempted one this time last year, but unfortunately I only made it to day 6.  Looking back, I have no idea why I didn't go on that seventh day.  I think I ran out of friends who were willing to go with me.  But this year is different.  I have people on deck for each day, everything is set, all I have to do is hope for good weather.  It's supposed to rain everyday this week, but where I live that usually just means afternoon showers.  Like today, it was scheduled to rain all day, but it only rained for about five minutes around 1 o'clock.  Not to mention, I've pretty much put all of my eggs into this one basket.  This week is the only full week when I will be able to kayak everyday.  Next week I'm flying to Atlanta to visit my father; and the first of June, I begin my nannying job, working from 8-5 each day.  Ergo, this week is my only chance.
   This morning at around 8 o'clock, Sarah Anne drives over to my house.  My mother has the volvo, and the volvo has the kayak rack.  Thankfully Sarah Anne is a dear friend, a dear friend who happens to have a truck.  We throw the yaks in the back of the pick-up, collapse the paddles so they fit in the back seat, fill our water bottles, and we head away.  It's weird having someone else drive to the kayak drop-off point.  Out of all the times I've gone, I think I've had someone else drive me there only two times.  But this is exciting, the weather is nice, temperature wise.
   When we arrive, the small white dog who lives at the house is yapping away, alerting everyone in the neighborhood that the kayaking girl is back.  The tide is in, and I mean in.  It seems as if everything is underwater.  Can something that's already underwater go underwater?  When we pass one of the many "No Wake" signs, I notice that one of them is almost half-way submerged.  That means that the water level rose about two feet.  Two feet!  We have to partake in the limbo to travel under the bridges and all of the docks are level with our kayaks.  That fact is good and bad.  If there was an alligator chasing our tails, we would be able to pull up to land no problem with the drop of a hat, but the alligator would be able to do the same.
   Once we get to a certain point in the water the two of us begin to cheat at the system.  The wind is strong and the water is practically flipping over at the chance to get us to where we want, so why should we resist?  We put our paddles in our laps and recline back.  Immediately we start to drift.  The water does the work for us while the two of joke about bringing sails with us next time.
   "I like it when we do this," Sarah Anne smiles.
   "I think everyone likes this.  Getting the same results with doing absolutely no work," I laugh.
   Our cutting corners is quickly punished.  Once we turn the corner, the tide is no longer with us and I start to feel like I'm trying to drive a parked car.  This was a workout I never signed up for.  The water that was once amiable and helpful had now become sassy and spiteful.  But after thirty minutes, we make the distance that normally takes us five minutes.  We get back to the house and cheerfully high-five one another for making it through.

GUEST SPEAKER: A Word From Sarah Anne

   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.  

An Open Letter To My Chacos

   I'd like to take a moment and dedicate this post to something that has literally taken me as far as I have come these past couple of years: My Pair of Chacos.  For those of you coming from the other side of the world (Shoutout to India, France, and Poland! How about everyone in South America?), Chaco is a brand of sandal, but there is always a variety of tennis shoes, flip flops, and other footwear.  The sandals are pretty standard, a thick rubber sole with a few tightly woven straps zig-zagging over the foot.  They are frequently called "Jesus sandals" by us Westerners of course.  

   My pair are red and they have walked with me across the country and throughout many experiences.  When my dad bought them for me for my 17th birthday, I knew he was hesitant about spending the price for a pair of shoes that I may wear for a few weeks and then lose interest in.  But after two years of seeing me in them 9 out of 10 days, he said, "You sure have gotten your share out of those shoes, haven't you Jillianne?"  These shoes have climbed the urban hills of San Francisco, felt the chill from Lake Tahoe, walked the beaches of Florida, and comforted me through countless college tours.  They were there for me when my shift at work was over and my feet couldn't take another minute of being in 5-inch heels.  And most of all, they have been on every kayaking trip, leaving my feet permanently tanned in a zigzag pattern.  

   When I got to college, a friend of Sarah Anne's looked at them and rudely asked, "What are those shoes?"  Sarah Anne quickly said, "They're Chacos.  They're the official shoe for kayaking."  What was said as just a comeback (and a great one, I must say) is now a believable slogan.  The shoes provide traction.  As I'm carefully stepping into my kayak when there is a terribly low tide and the ground is coated in mud, my Chacos are there to make sure I don't come crashing down.  When I'm paddling through the unexpected current, my Chacos are there to keep my feet breathing.  On especially hot days, when the sun is out with a vengeance, my Chacos are there to make it easy for me to dip my feet off the side of my yak to cool them off in the nice water.  

   I hope this doesn't sound too over-privileged-white-girl, but I had to say something to the shoes that carry me through every day.  They are such a simple thing that would be deeply missed if gone missing, but yet they are something that so many people take for granted. 

   If you have a minute, take a look here for yourself.

   They won't let you down.  And hey, wear them all year.  Socks and sandals, no shame.  

Something Frowned Upon

   A few posts ago, I mentioned a time when Trea had to hoist me up onto a bridge so I could get some water.  As exhilarating as that sentence sounds, I thought that I would go into more detail, because believe it or not there is more to that story.  So here we go.  Trea darling, if I get something wrong, I apologize for it in advance.

   It's 10 o'clock in the morning, Trea and I have been out on this water for two and half hours already.  During the end of May, the sun is ruthless.  It does not hesitate to boil your skin and soul until they have been welded together in some inhumane fashion.  It sends any chance of a breeze running for cover, and rightly the breeze should.  We were the fools who wanted to be in those conditions, asking for trouble.  When we set "sail" into the water I realized that I had left my water bottle, my lovely one liter iced filled water bottle, in the car.  I being the fool thought that it wouldn't be that bad without it, we wouldn't go too fast and we wouldn't go too far, I could make it until we made it back to the car.  Yes, I know, I win the award for biggest fool.  Two and half hours later I quickly realized that.  Trea had water, but it too had been damaged by the cruel sun hanging maliciously in the sky, and there was no way I was about to drink after him.  When we paddled through the golf course I spotted a small shack just off the bank.  It housed two bathrooms and a water fountain that from my perspective seemed to be blessed by the Gods themselves.  I quickly looked around the edges of the water, searching for a place that would sit my kayak comfortably while I could easily step out onto firm earth.  Unfortunately there was no such luck, all edges in that area are covered with thick tall grass that grows out from the muddy bottom of the water making it impossible to pull a kayak into it never mind trying to step out.  I already had a death wish with the sun, I wasn't about to up the chances by battling a water moccasin.  After deliberating, I sheepishly look over at Trea who was fishing for golf balls.  "Trea?" I call out to him.  "Hmm?" he responds curtly.  I stutter, "Could you help me?"  He sighs and points his kayak in my direction.  As he gets closer, he reaches out for the side of my yak and grabs hold of it, pulling us side by side.  "What?" he smiles.  I gesture up towards the bridge, "Could you maybe give me a lift?"  He shields the sun away from his eyes with his hand as he peers upward.  "I'll hold your kayak steady.  You stand and pull yourself up."  That sounded as good a plan as any so I didn't object.  He reached his arm over so he could hold the other side of my kayak as well.  Finding my balance was the tricky part, my kayak was not made to be stood upon.  I reached up for one of the beams in the bridge before I really found my footing and hoisted myself onto it.  The kayak wobbled beneath me as I pulled one leg up after another.  Just as I had both feet up, we hear a golf cart approaching.  We had no idea if trespassing was.. well, trespassing, but we didn't think these golf members would take too kindly to two kids kayaking and then busting up in their club to use their facilities.  Trea yelled quietly at me as I leaped across the bridge into the grass to the water fountain, "GO! Go go go! Act like you belong! If someone says something, say we just paddled in from New Orleans! Go!... Don't run! Calm, Jillianne, calm!"  Anything that happened after that was a blur, because I had water.  To be honest, I don't think I have ever had anything that tasted sweeter.  It was by far the best thing that had ever graced my lips in a very long time.  I pulled away and held my head to the sky as I took a breath and then took a few more gulps before running back across the bridge.  Now, due to the extreme euphoria that had just entered my life, the next few actions probably didn't happen exactly the way I remember them happening.  What I remember is me flinging both legs over the railing of the bridge while holding it with one arm and balancing with the other and placing both of my feet just so in my kayak that all I had to do was just sit down and take the paddle from Trea.  I remember all of this happening in one quick fluid movement that I felt like I needed to be cast in the next James Bond movie.  I'm sure what actually happened was me landing in my kayak like a sack of potatoes, Trea laughing at me for five minutes, and my outfit becoming completely soaked by my lack of grace, along with multiple bruises and scrapes appearing from getting too cozy with the wooden bridge.  But I am going to go with the first one.  On the way back, Trea paddles next to me and says, "Oh!" as he reaches for something in between his feet, "While you were making a fool out of yourself, I got you this."  He opens his hand and reveals a bright yellow golf ball with a small shell pattern printed on it.  I smile and take it, "Thank you, Trea!  I will keep it always."  He scoffs with a smile, "Yeah, whatever," and paddles on in front of me.

The One with the Bears, not with Steve

   I'm sitting in the lounge, happily eating my chocolate chip cookie and sipping on a cup of coffee.  Mama Bear comes running in, balancing a stack of cookies with her coffee, "Jillianne, oh my gosh!  Do you know what we need to do?"  I set my glass down and shake my head.  She rotates her arms forward, gesturing a paddle, and whispers, "Kayaking."
   I laugh and roll my eyes, "It's late and it's kind of choppy out there.."
   "No, no, no it's not.  Not on the other side.  It's nice.  They don't close until 6, come on, we have plenty of time," she insists.  My mother walks in with her coffee and pulls up a chair to our table.  I tell her that Mama Bear wants to go kayaking, hoping that she will agree with me and then cunningly change the topic so it won't be brought up again until it is too late.  It works for a little while.
   At about 5:15, she asks again, "Please, Jillianne! You know we'll have a good time!  Just a short trip, please?"
   She's just too sweet, I sigh and say okay.
   "Was that a yes?" she gasps, "Oh my gosh, she said yes!"

   When we get to the rental shack I tell the young man there we want to kayak.  He clenches his jaw together and takes a deep breath in through his teeth, "We're closed, I'm sorry."
   "No you're not.  You close at six," I respond curtly.
   "Yeah, but we like to have everything back in by 5:30 so we can start shutting down.  I'm really sorry."
   I know I wasn't completely on board (no pun intended) with going kayaking that afternoon, but I still don't care for it when people don't do their jobs.  But I wasn't about to have a brawl with the hotel beach guy, so I turn around and tell my mom and Mama Bear the bad news.
   "Oh no.  You're not getting out of this one," she says to me and continues toward the hut.
   "Um, excuse me? Hi," she says to the guy (I would call him a man, but he isn't quite there yet)
   He tries to tell her the same thing he told me but she's not having it.
   "We'll be super quick, I promise.  It's our last night here, and we really wanted to go," she pleads.
   After a few minutes of back and forth, the man finally agrees..begrudgingly.  She yips with excitement and tells me not to act like I don't feel the same.
   We grab our life vests and paddles and head down to sit in our yellow two person kayak.  Papa Bear and Lil' John (their son, not the rapper or Robin Hood character) hop in the kayak next to us.
   I sit in the back so I can steer and say, "Okay, we're going to win and dominate."
   The man pushes us off the shore and I think about how nice it is that I can kayak without having to worry about the hassle that comes with it.  I won't have to put this beast back on my car when I'm done.  I won't have to take care of the paddle and put it away when I get home.  This yak is only my responsibility from the moment I leave the shore to the time I reach it again.  Then that guy has to take care of it.  This is awesome!
   Hauling tail across the water, we pull in front of Papa and John, only for a moment.  Their kayak comes closer to ours and Mama shrieks, begging them not to crash into us.  John holds out his paddle and rams into ours, pushing us away.  I point us back into the right direction but we lose our speed and they quickly pass us.  After a few moments, they turn to go back the other way, but we keep going.
   "Are you okay? Are you happy?" Mama Bear asks.
   I say yes but she turns around, "Are you?"
   Laughing, I say, "Yes, I am.  This is great!"

   When we make it back it to the sand, the guy is waiting and quickly pulls us in.
   Mama Bear thanks him again for letting us go and says, "But hey, now you get to be on her blog!"

 
   End Note:  This was during my Easter vacation at the same resort the last post was set at.  It was lovely and this kayaking trip, even though it was short lived, was still so much fun.  The Bears, not their real name, are our family-friends and are all very sweet.  I'm glad Mama Bear pushed me out to go kayaking that afternoon and I'm glad Papa and John got to go as well.  We would have brought our other family-friends with us, Steve and Belinda, so it would have been an army of kayakers!  But, alas, they were no where to be found.  Probably at the pool.  Oh well, next year.

   *There are more pics from this trip in The Gallery

When Trea Flips Out

Since the post on Thursday was just a playlist.  Here's a treat:

   Back in the day, Trea and I had nothing to do but Kayak and run errands for our mothers.  So after about 5 times out kayaking (This was a few trips before we went out to the middle of the bridge), he finally asked me.. "Jillianne, have you ever practiced flipping your kayak?"  I gawk at him, "What? Why would you do that!"  He laughed at me, "You're supposed to have done that already! So in case it happens while you're out there, you'll know what to do!"  I sulk, "Oh, well... I don't plan on ever being in a situation where I'll flip over.  Calm water, that's me.  That's where I'll stay."  He laughed some more, clearly enjoying where this was going, "No, no, no.  You need to practice.."  He paddled closer to me.  I start paddling backwards, "Trea, you stay away from me,"  he reaches his arm out and nearly grabs the side of my kayak but I stab him with my paddle, "I mean it!"  "Jillianne," he tries to sound comforting, "I'm only doing this for your well-being.  Keeping you safe and prepared.  You need to know what to do!" he reaches my kayak.  Pulling me side by side with him, he smiles, "Okay, I'll make you a deal.." He looks around, "You can either.. let me flip you over right now," I squirm and try to paddle away, "or, we go out into the bay right now," I squirm even harder.  "Please, Trea.  This isn't fun."  "Flipping it is.  Here, give me your phone so it doesn't drown," he held out his hand.  I laugh and yell no.  "Fine," he smirks and jolts one side of my kayak up, but I stay put..  I laugh at him and he begs me some more to let him do it.  "How about you flip yourself.  So I can, you know, have an example.  So I know how easy it is to do."  He laughs but agrees and paddles a good distance away from me, thankfully.  He slips his phone into his dry pack, sets his paddle on the water, and takes a deep breath.  In one quick motion he is underwater and the kayak is bottom-up.  I clap my hands like a child as he quickly bobs up.  "Jillianne," he says seriously, "I can stand."  And sure enough, he plants his feet on the sandy floor raising his chest and up to be above water.  He walks forwards to catch his paddle and trudges back to get back in his boat.  He flips it on its side and puts his torso on the seat as he hurls it upright, bringing himself with it, legs flailing in the air.  He did it, actually, very gracefully.  What followed is what makes it great.  Trea's kayak is a standard one, a standard sit-in kayak.  When he had flipped it back over, it had taken a great deal of water.  As he gets seated, I watch as he looks down at his feet and mumbles, "God dammit."  He holds his head back and sighs.  I snicker, "What's wrong, hun?"  He takes off one of his shoes and tells me to shut up.  He begins shoveling the water out of his kayak with his shoe, his water shoe so it isn't as effective as we all had hoped.  But after a few moments, he seems ready to paddle back over to me to give me another ultimatum.

   When I got home that day, I told my parents how awful Trea had been and how he threatened me and tried to flip me over when I begged him not to.  They completely sided with him.  I think my mom even texted him giving him a direct order to flip me the next time we went out.