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.

Mom

   It's 12 o'clock on a hot June day.  I'm reading, Mom is somewhere doing something, and for some reason, I think it's a good idea to go kayaking right now.  Looking back now, mistakes were made.  Mom being the compliant person she is, says she would love to go kayaking.  So we load everything up, tell my sister we'll be back in a little bit, down ourselves in bug spray, and that's it.
   When we pull up to the drop off, small waves are sloshing against it.  I don't know why I was surprised, anyone would know that if you go to the water in the middle of the day, the tide will be on the move.  But we went out anyway.
   Once we get away from the house and out into the bigger part of the bayou, it immediately starts to feel like we are kayaking on a treadmill.  It doesn't help that Mom has the old broken paddle that doesn't stay together on its own.  She yells out, "Jillianne, what part of this is enjoyable?"  The burn starts to come over us.  Even I start to complain a bit.  Here we are, paddling as fast as our bodies can paddle, and yet we're going nowhere.  It's not like the other times I've gone when we could just mosey along and make it in excellent time.  No, now we have to exert every once of strength we have just to travel three feet.
   After a while Mom says, "Man, if we did this everyday, we'd have Susan Lucci arms in no time."  I laugh and agree but make a point that we will never kayak during this time ever again.
   We make a dash to Alligator Alley and she shrieks, "NO! Sweetie, I don't want you kayaking through this ever again! This place filled with gators.  Look at this water! No no no.  I can't believe we're going this way."  I try to calm her down by telling her to look up at the beautiful canopy of trees, but moms will be moms.
   We get to a point where we're ready to turn around, but when we do, a wicked thing happens..
   One would think that the moment we turned around we would go extra fast because the current would be pushing us along.  But no, it was as if the moment we turned around, the tide did as well.  Going back was not any easier than before.  It was just as horrific.  I'm apologizing to Mom the entire way, but she's done complaining.  She's just trying her best to hold the paddle together while booking it back to the house.  Not many words were said, there was just the sound of heavy breathing and the waves colliding with the kayaks.
   I know I ruined the idea of kayaking for my mother.  But once the horrible memories of that trip fade away, we'll head back out, in the evening, and kayaking's perfect reputation will be redeemed.

Toe-Pro

   It's New Years Day, about 50 so degrees outside, and I'm sitting at my dining room table with my 2015 glasses (which I bought at Walmart along with a life vest.  The ingredients for a good time, I know) on while eating a BLT.  My shoulders are sore, there's a lump on my shin, and I'm tired.


   "Bella! Do you want to go kayaking?" I ask.
   "Sure," she responds happily.
   "You can be on my blog!"
   "Ooh la la, really?"
   "Of course!"
   "Well, we'd have to do something awesome.  Something that those Czech Republicans will remember!"
 
   We return from Walmart, glasses and vest in hand.  I grab our waters, throw the vests and paddles in the back, and I give Bella a lesson on how to strap a kayak to a Volvo.  On the way to Mallini's I apologize in advance for paddling too fast or not taking enough breaks or anything else that previous kayak companions had complained about.  I tell her how much I want to see an alligator again and ask if she knows when alligator feeding time is? She said she didn't.  Bummer.
   We pull up to the house and it's odd, but Bella was actually the first person who didn't ask, "Do you know these people?"  Not a peep from her, totally on board.
   Follow the routine: kayaks off, life vests on, paddles together, water closed, car locked.

   "This water is so still," Bella calls to me.
   "I know.. Where's an alligator?"
   I pull closer to the edge of the water to look for crabs or snakes, but alas, none to be found.  The bridge is approaching and I tell Bella to duck and stay as straight as she can.  I make it under with no issue.  I'm heading for the second bridge when I hear a loud thud followed by, "Ugh!"  I turn around and see Bella stuck between the legs of the bridge.
   "Sorry," she laughs.
   I smile, "All good, just go backwards."

   We make it out of Alligator Alley alive and without seeing a gator. I tell Bella to head for the opening ahead and we make a break for it.  Soon enough, the waters get choppy and the waves splash my pants.  Stay aggressive.  Make it around the rocks and everything calms down.  No problem.  Seagulls and pelicans sit along the sidelines cocking their heads from side to side in mockery.

   We're on our way back to the drop off, Bella's in front of me and I snap a picture of her.  A picture isn't enough.  All I want is a video.  I'm thinking, I'm thinking.  I don't want to stop and video everything, that's boring and it's been done before.  I think about holding my phone with my chin but that would be uncomfortable and it would fall constantly.  *Light bulb*  I grab my phone, press record, and put in my Chaco, my toes holding it.  I stretch my legs out to where they normally are, and paddle onward.  I'm brilliant.
   I start to pass Bella and say, "Look Bella, I made a Go-Pro."
   She turns her head and bursts out laughing, "Oh my gosh, stop, I have to take a picture!"

   We return home from our adventure.  I walk in the house with my leg throbbing from the kayak crashing into my shin when we took them off the car.  Bella shows her mom, Rene, the picture of my genius homemade Go-Pro.  She laughs and says, "Toe-Pro."

   I want to thank everyone who let #backontheyak be a part of their lives in 2014, and I look forward to 2015 bringing many more.  This past year brought many challenges, some of which were included in this blog, but it also brought many blessings.  So keep smiling and I hope 2015 brings you all more happiness and contentment than you thought possible.

Thank you and Happy Holidays -           

Jillianne          

Keep Calm and Paddle On

   The other day someone asked me, "Oh, you still kayak?"
   I was a little stunned.  I had no idea kayaking was such a fad to this ignorant person.  Of course I still kayak you moron.  Why would I not kayak?  You ask as if it's a parallel to playing with Polly Pockets or flipping the light switch on and off nine times before leaving a room.  Why on Earth would I not kayak anymore?
   I respond with a puzzled, "Yess..?"
   The person takes a sip of a drink and says cooly, "Why?"
   "What do you mean?"
   Is this a trick question?  I feel like I'm in a beauty pageant and I'm obligated to respond with an answer along the lines of, "For world peace, of course,"  followed with the audience applauding me for my profound yet pompous answer.
   My actual response could be one of the following two:
   
1)     "My God, tell me again how many times you were dropped as a baby?  Of course I kayak.  It's hard work and something I thoroughly enjoy.  And I'm extremely fortunate to have something that qualifies as both.  It seems a chore until I'm out on that water, when all cares melt away under the sun.  Actually working towards my destination using only the paddle in my hands.  Listening to the birds as they tell me about their lives through song.  Watching the mullets as they fly out of water not once, not twice, but a remarkable three times!  Hearing the waves as they ripple past me.  Waving hello to families sitting on their porches enjoying the day with me.
     "Kayaking is almost a religious experience for me.  It leaves me feeling the same way a devout feels when they leave Church, Temple, Dhyana, or any other religious ceremony in current existence.  I don't always believe in a celestial being, but when I do, it's when I'm out in that bay.  My eyes are closed, my head is back, and my face is head on with the boundless sky.  Nothing moves, there is complete silence, and everything is in alignment with each other.  I feel like I'm floating while watching my body sit on the water.  In that moment, I can feel the higher power kissing me on the forehead in approval.  And then I'm jolted back to Earth.
     "So yes, I "still kayak" and I do it because I have yet to find anything quite like it."

2)     "Because it's awesome and I love it and you have no idea."

   You can decide for yourself which one I said.
 

Closed For Season: A New Tale About An Old Time

I'M ALIVE!
   It's been a while.  I know.  But believe it or not, it does in fact get pretty chilly down here on the Gulf Coast.  Maybe not chilly from a northern's perspective, but certainly not warm enough to go water sporting.  So my kayaking adventures have been put on hiatus.  Maybe there will be a warm spell here soon, but until that magical day when I am reunited with Sunburst I thought I would just go on telling tales about the kayaking days before this glorious blog.. ahem.. I mean "movement", came along.  If that's alright with you all, of course.

   "Letting Trea take the lead was a mistake."
   "Why am I even following him?"
   "I should turn around and go back to the car."
   "I could take a nap in the car."
   "Would he even notice that I was gone?"
   "Doubt it."
   "Jesus, letting him take the lead was a mistake."

   Those are the things that flood my mind as I watch Trea's figure get smaller and smaller in the boundless water.  I sit in the mouth of the Bay, sipping my water, listening to my Alternative Indie Love Song Pandora radio station.  By this point, the only way I can see Trea is because of his neon orange life vest.  He's now smaller than a speck, bobbing up and down.

   "That jerk is trying to get to the Bay Bridge," I think to myself.
   A few more brief moments go by before I say, quite loudly, "UGH! Fine."
   I grab my paddle and hurl myself towards him.

   The peak of the Bay Bridge is approximately two miles from where I was sitting.  Two miles is nothing.  Trea and I have covered that in no time at all.  But.. that was when we were side by side, had house to talk about, birds to whistle to, small crabs to count, and plenty of other things to keep our minds occupied while traveling.  Open water is a completely different kind of beast.
   There are waves.  Lots and lots of waves.  And not the pretty little ripply waves.  No.  These are the waves that threaten to flip your yak every time they hit.  There is nothing to look at, except your bare legs looking like sitting ducks to the blinding smoldering exposed sun, and of course, the Bridge itself.
   With the bridge being your only focal point, time passes WAY more slowly.  With the waves ganging up on you, the whole ride is just a game of two steps forward, one step back.  So it takes more time than I would have liked.  The bridge was not getting any bigger and neither was Trea.  Time was frozen, and not in the good way.  I wasn't getting any closer, but the mouth of the bay, where I had come from, had practically diappeared.  Something was wrong.  At a point, I did start to lose my mind. .
   Only two thoughts were repeating through my sunbaked brain:
     I'm gonna die out here.
     I hate Trea.

   After 38 billion hours, I'm there.  Trea welcomes me with a high fave, "Hey! I didn't think you were going to make it!"
   I scoff, "Neither did I."

   Sitting under a bridge that you travel over everyday is quite the experience.  You look up and listen to the cars overhead.  They're all just continuing with their daily routine, completely unaware of the fact that two friends are sitting under them, drinking water, listening to a nearby fisherman's country station, absolutely dreading the moment when one of them decides it's time to go back.
   Trea breaks first, "Well.."
   "-Shut up.  Can we just catch a ride back with one of these friendly boaters?"
   He laughs, "It won't be that bad! The sun will be on our backs, the current will be on our side, and I'll stay with you the whole time.  It will go by in blink."
   I agree, hesitantly.
   And he was wrong.  Oh my God, he was wrong.  About everything.

   Kayaking on what might as well have been a treadmill to the middle of the Bay Bridge and back earned Trea and I major bragging rights.  But you'll never see us jumping at the chance to do it again.