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.

Old Timers and First Timers

   Last week was spring break for me and I tell you what, it was the best time I've had in a long time.  It was my grandfather's 90th birthday and we had a reunion birthday bash.  Family from all over the country came down to visit and the majority of them stayed at my house.  It was far beyond a good time.  The weather that first weekend was glorious but I didn't get a chance to kayak since I was whooping it up with my cousins.  During the week I thought for sure I would go, I had nothing but time.  But alas, it rained..the..entire...time.  And then I began to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Saturday came around with the sun beaming down, not a cloud in sight.  60º.  Beyond perfect for getting back on the yak.  So I run to my Uncle Mike from Washington who wasn't leaving town until Monday and I tell him that we simply have to go kayaking in the morning.  He is reluctant at first, saying he's not sure if he can sit comfortably in the kayak, "I don't bend that way."  I laugh and take him outside for a test run.  I lend him my sit-on kayak, saying he will be much more comfortable in this one because he will be able to rest his legs however he chooses.  He agrees and says, "Yeah, okay, I guess I can do that.  Let's do it.  What time are we leaving?"

   The sun is beginning to peak in through the trees as Mom and I strap the kayaks to the car.  It's been a while so my arms are a little tight as I heave the kayaks over my head and onto the car.  Uncle Mike strolls out of the house carrying a cup of coffee and a spare Seattle Seahawks tshirt, "Hey.  I'm ready."  We drive down to the bayou and are surprised by how much mud is on the ground and on the launch.  I guess that is to be expected when it rains for an entire week.
   When Uncle Mike sits on the kayak and I push him out into the water, I am convinced he is going to flip.  The back of the kayak is completely level with the water while the front of it is raised above the water.  He is wobbling like a top that is about to fall and I watch with my breath frozen still and hands covering my mouth.  But... he gets it.  No one flipped.  He got the hang of it and begins practicing turning and stopping as I push my self out into the water.  I catch up to him and tell him to head left.  I watch him paddle, right, left left, right, left, right right right, left left, right, and can't help but smile.
   We reach the golf course and I notice a string of bubbles appearing on the water, no more than three feet away from me, heading in the opposite direction of us.  I suggest to Uncle Mike that maybe it's an alligator.  He frowns, "Yeah.  I'm going back that way."  I laugh and follow him out.  On the way back, a dog who is very happy to see us jumps off of his yard and into a boat that is tied up.  He stands on the edge, silently, and smiles as I paddle up next to him to give him a rub on the head.  As I float on, I watch as he struggles to find the best way to get out of the boat.  A pinecone captures my attention in the corner of my eye, and when I turn my head back to watch the dog, he was lying happily on the grass again.  "Wizard dog," I say to myself.  
   We reach a point where we could either go back to the house or head towards the Bay.  When I ask Uncle Mike what he wants to do he says, "Hey, this is all you.  We can keep going."  So I head towards the Bay but we turn down Alligator Alley to go around the island and land back at the house instead of going to the Bay and just turning around and coming back.
   I row row row through the swamp because believe it or not, I actually didn't want to run into a gator that morning.  When I get to the other end, I paddle over to the other side of the floating dock and admire how calm the water is and how green the grass is while I wait for Mike to make it through.
   This was the first time I had ever kayaked in the month of March, and it might be my favorite.  The sun is out but it has no desire to bake you and any leaf you see is brand new and filled with life.  The whole bayou had a new refreshing ora to it that I had never seen before. This place had always been beautiful, this was just a different type of beauty.
   I hear Uncle Mike run into something and I quickly turn my head to make sure he alright.  Sure enough, he had crashed right into the floating dock.  He laughs and says, "Hey, it's alright."  I laugh with him and tell him the house is right around the corner.

Back On The Yak For Yak's Sake

   It's a Saturday.  Winter Break comes to a halt in about two weeks.  We haven't been on the yaks in a few months.  It's about 50 degrees outside.  I drive over to Sarah Anne's house to pick her up.  She has some Nike shorts on over a pair of black leggings, a long sleeve shirt under her hoodie, thick socks and some tennis shoes.  When she gets in the car I give her a Kermit the Frog hat to match my sock monkey hat.  I offer her my pair of gloves but she declines.
   When we arrive at the drop off, a terrible thing starts to happen.  Teeny tiny drops of water start to cover the windshield.  Neither one of us say anything, we just watch.
   After one or two moments, I say, "I wouldn't call that rain."
   "No?" Sarah Anne replies rather quickly.
   "No.  It's like a mist.  Hardly a mist, really."
   "Sure."
   "The mist in the produce section of the grocery store is stronger than this," I say.
   "Totally.  It's a tease of a mist."
   "Exactly, and it doesn't look like it's going to get any worse any time soon."
   "Yeah."
   "Yeah.  We'll be fine."
   "Okay," she says unconvinced.
   "We're not going back."
   "No?"
   "No!  We'll just go out right there! We don't have to go far, we'll just go, spin in some circles, get the blood flowing, and then we'll come right back."
   "Yeah, okay."
   "We're just going to go."
   "Getting on the yak for the sake of the yak."
   I smile, "Exactly."
   So that is exactly what we do.  We put our yaks in the water, put our life vests on our chests, put the paddles in our hands then in the water.  I give Sarah Anne a hurl out, and she wobbles out into the open water.  I follow behind her.  Clouds hang every where above and the mist keeps are faces cool while we spin around each other.
   "Did I ever take you to the place where I actually saw an alligator?" I smile.
   She hesitates, "..no."
   I laugh, "Well.  We're going."
   Instead of taking the way that leads out into the bay, we turn right to head towards the golf course.  We tuck our heads under our chins as we pass under the bridge as I tell her about the time Trea had to hoist me up from his kayak so I could fun and get some water from a nearby fountain (a post for another time). As the water gets narrower, Sarah Anne pulls out a bag of cereal from her pack.  I tease her and say that she may want to put that away as we approach gator country.  She laughs and smirks back at me but in the corner of my eye I see her tuck it away.  We take left turn after left turn as the water gets shallower and more murky.  Probably out of nerves,  Sarah Anne starts to tell me about a time when she was much younger, she visited an alligator farm and she got to hold an egg as it hatched! How cool is that? Life was brought into this world in the palm of her hand.
   Unfortunately, no gators were seen on this specific kayaking trip.  On the way back, we moseyed along, enjoying being back on the water.  Before we hit land, we decided to make a quick video of us really just being silly.

Homage to Home

   Anyone who is planning to go to college at some point in there lives needs to know about basic introductions.  Any body you meet will ask for your name, your hometown, and your major.  It's all very standard stuff.  Try to generalize those first three things.  Same specifics for the next round, it lengthens the conversation, engages everyone a little bit more, and shows more personality.  For example, I say, "I'm Jillianne.  I'm from south Mississippi, the coast.  And I'm an Art Major."  Next round, they'll probably ask how far is your hometown, and ask for more info on your major.  But for me, since I hate the standard intro, I go for something a little more.. spunky? I ask, "So name, and so and so major.  What else is there to know?"  This always throws them for a loop.  For one, they didn't think anyone would care.  Two, it completely brakes the shell of the standard convo.  They'll typically say, "Uh, I don't know.  What about you?"  Hoping you'll fall into the same trap they just did.  Wrong.  "Well, I kayak.  I have a killer blog about it, you should check it out btw," Bam.  You now have plenty of material for a conversation that should last the entire route of wherever you are walking to.  You're welcome.
   To the point.  This is after four or five rounds of conversing with someone.  They know all about my major, my goals, my hopes and dreams, and they know I'm serious about kayaking.  So they ask more.  "Where do you kayak?" they ask.  This is a tricky one.  The simple answer is, "Mallini's Bayou."  But they are from someplace 35 minutes west of Dallas, they have no grasp on what part of "the south" I am from, and they certainly have no earthly idea what "Mallini's Bayou" means.  They want something awesome like "In the middle of the ocean" or "Down these white rapids that are behind my house" or even "When I said I kayak, I meant I did it once when I was on vacation with my family at a lake.  I'm sorry I lied, here's a dollar for your troubles.  Oh you won't take a dollar? How about store credit at Starbucks?"   So I have to generalize but make it sound just as epic as it really is.
   Here we go.
   "Well... I live two miles from the beach.  I haven't been out there yet.  The water is always pretty choppy when I get out there.  Not Atlantic Ocean choppy, but enough to flip a kayak with the same ease as flicking someone on the nose.  So there's this bayou right?  Not bayou as in the waters are covered in green stuff and looks like a golf course.  I mean, there are gators and there is a golf course next door, but not that kind of bayou.  It's about 20 minutes from my house.  It's so nice! We put the kayaks in a drop off in a stranger's yard and the water is always perfect.  It's a series of creeks and caverns with a canopy of trees covering the whole thing!  There are houses along every edge, and everyone usually waves.  Imagine you're going through a neighborhood but the streets have been replaced with streams and the cars have been replaced with boats.  If I'm lucky, I'm out there when the sun is going down.  The coast of Mississippi has the most beautiful sunsets and I will argue that until the day I die."
   Sometimes I do just say, "In the middle of the ocean."  It depends on how much sleep I got the night before and how comfortable my shoes are.

The Loop, Part I

   Sunday morning, I drive over to pick up Sarah Anne.  She comes out of the house with a little lunch box full of goodies, and I'm not just talking about food.  I ask her what's in it and she pulls out a bag of Mud cookies - homemade -,  some watermelon slices, and a bluetooth speaker.  I'm excited to see that, music always makes the kayaking trips that much more enjoyable, and my phone speaker would never be loud enough for the both us to hear.
   "The other day, someone told me I was looking a little more tan," she started, "I said, "Yeah, I'm a kayaker now."."
 
   I get the RunKeeper app and the kayak playlist going and we glide on out.  The water was as smooth as silk, making it that much easier to paddle.
   By now, Sae has mastered the kayak.  She still gets a little flustered when we have to turn around or back up, but she's always up for a challenge and never wants to fall too far behind me.  I knew we were making great time when we were almost to the bay, and sure enough, we get the notification saying we're going at a speed of 17 minutes per mile.
   "Oh my gosh!" Sarah Anne exclaims.
   "That is so good! The fastest Trea and I ever go is 22 min/mile! 17 is fantastic!" I say.
   "I knew we were bookin' it, my arms hurt. And I see you and I'm like 'How does she keep going?!' But then I remember you do this all the time.."
   I laugh and respond, "If you want to go slower, just let me know! I want you to have a good time!"
   "Oh no, this is great!" she smiles.
   I told her we would take a break when we reached the mouth of the bay and we continued onward.

   We reached the bay and I was without words.
   In all of my kayaking adventures, I had never seen the water like this.  There was not a wave in sight.  It looked as if one could walk right on the water.  The sky was crystal clear and the heat was tolerable.  The kind of heat that makes you sweat but doesn't make you want to go back inside.  My jaw hung open, I couldn't believe my eyes.  There were no waves to pull you in a certain direction or slow you down, you only move the way you want to move.  This was everything a kayaker could dream of.
   Sarah Anne hadn't been out as many times as I had so I knew she wouldn't fully appreciate it the way I did.  But I tried to explain the greatness of it to her as best as I could.
   "I'm going to suggest something, and if you don't want to do it, say so.  I'm only going to suggest it because I've never had the water like this and I know I won't have it again anytime soon," I paused, "but I think we should do the loop."
   From the house, one can get to the bay two ways: the way that is taken in Down By The Bay where Trea catapulted the dead fish at me, and the other way I've taken everyone else.  The house is right in the middle of the loop.  The loop is where you go out into the bay one way and come back the other way and go to the house.  Total distance is about 5 miles.  Trea and I had always wanted to do it, but the waves in the bay were always too choppy for us.
   Sarah Anne sighed, looked out at the movementless water, and said, "I guess we really don't have a choice."
   "Really?"
   "Yeah, let's do it," she smiles.

An Angelfish Among Fish

   I'm not going to complain about getting the kayaks on and off the car, or the dragonflies filling the air, or even the heat.  I'm too grateful and blinded by the fact that I actually got my angelfish, Patrick, to go kayaking with me.  Sure, he listened to podcasts about League of Legends for a majority of the time, but whatever.  
   We pull up to the same ole house and I, with Patty watching, unstrap the yaks and place them in the water.  I toss him a life vest and he begins to snap it on before I ask, "You're going with your shirt? Or are you going to go rogue and take it off?"
   He blushes and quietly says, "Okay."
   "I was just asking!" I laugh, "Trea always takes his off, so I don't know. You can leave it on."
   "No, I'll take it off," he motions for me to turn around.
   "Big baby," I grumble.
   "What was that?" he laughed.
   I turn back around, his shirt was off and life vest was on, "Nothing," I say with a big grin, "let's go."

   After what felt like hours, my RunKeeper app notified us that we were traveling 1 mile every 37 minutes.  When I heard this, I couldn't help from laughing.
   "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! COMING IN AT A WHOPPING SPEED OF 34 MINUTES PER MILE, THE LIGHTNING FAST.... PATRICK!!!" I shout out to all of the surrounding homes.
   Patrick glides past me in his kayak, lips pursed, "Okay, you're gonna need to stop."
   "Stop?" I throw my hands up to my cheeks, "You mean we've actually been moving this whole time?" I laugh at my own joke, Patty continues down the way, unamused.
 
   The sun was beginning to go down, creating a golden haze all around us.  I snap a few pictures of Patty with sun beans coming in from behind him as we make our way to the golf course and float around in between two holes.  I then start to paddle my way over to the shallow grassy part of the waters.
   "What are you doing?" Patty asks.
   "Fishing out a golf ball.  Would you like one, angelfish?"
   "Absolutely not.  That's stealing, I'm not going to be a felon," he paddles away from me, "I'm going to stay over here.  Completely unaffiliated with you."
   "Whatever," I mumble as I pull a pink golf ball out of the muddy ground, keeping an eye out for any snakes, "I'm getting you one anyway."

   After a while, I pause to take a picture of the setting sun, and a tuckered Patty again glides past me saying, "That's it, leisurely.  Nice and slow.  Leisurely pace.  The world already moves so fast, why make it go faster?" He turns around and says to me, "You know, the turtle did win that race."

Distance  3.78 miles
Time  2:07:11
Min/Mile  33:38
Calories  467