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.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Friday, December 26, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Up There
"The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away"
Job 1:21
It's day 3 of the perfect kayak week*. Trea is the best partner to have while trying to accomplish something like this. He's right down the road, he has a kayak, and he loves it as much as I do. This week was tough though. Our friend, Tricia, was in the hospital after being in a terrible car accident. She was one of three passengers in the vehicle. The other two, her brother and her boyfriend, had died earlier in the week. She was in a coma and the doctors were doing their best to relieve the pressure from her brain. That's another reason why Trea is the best to have around. While others would say it's incredibly selfish to think only of myself while my friend of four years could possibly be dying, Trea wouldn't. Kayaking was the escape. It took our mind off the terrible and focused it on to something beautiful. While Tricia was still on our brains, we couldn't help but think that everything was going to be okay as we watched the sky flood with pinks, oranges, and purples, as the sun set over the water.
We paddled out into the bay. This was actually my first time going into the bay. Before, I hung back as I watched Trea's bravery take him farther than mine would. But this time was different. Carpe Diem really seemed to have much more meaning this week. So when he told me to follow him out into the bigger water, I didn't protest. I stayed by his side.
The air was warm but it had a cozy feeling about it. I took a swig of my water and watched the sky. Yellow's blending into pinks while the sun peered in from behind. This was always my favorite part of the kayak trip. Wide open waters with a view consisting of only waves outlined with the distant trees. Boats scattered about, some zipping circles around themselves, others sitting peacefully enjoying the same sky I am. Every now and then the clouds would move in such a way creating a hazy overcast pink glow. The setting sun peering through at odd angles so one could actually see the rays beaming down over the water. Completely romantic, it seemed as if two total strangers found themselves with each other out on this water, that was it. Instant love. A scheme that only Cupid himself could be to blame. Each ray of sun one of his arrows in disguise. It was a scene that belonged only in a painting, but I got to see it for free. It's in these moments, with the boats, the sun, the water, that made everything seem worth it. As if it were an omen telling me that things really are okay. How could they be bad when there is something as perfect as this moment?
"See how fun it is to try new things, Jillianne?" Trea smiled.
I'm snuggled up in my bed, fan blasting, cat sleeping on my feet, music playing, when my phone lets out its alerting whistle.
I have a message from Trea.
'Jillianne' it reads.
I respond with the obvious 'Trea'
He quickly answers 'She's gone.'
'What are you talking about?'
A moment goes by before my phone whistles again.
'Tricia, she's dead.'
*The perfect kayak week is when one tries to kayak at least a certain distance every consecutive day for one week. It seems easy before one actually starts. After the third day, you really start to feel it. And your poor legs have given up on the concept of "sunburn".
This event happened in late May, and it's taken me a while to be able to write about it. This was before I had the RunKeeper app so I don't have the stats from this trip.
RIP Tricia, I love you and thank you for being my friend at school when no one else was and for always being able to crack me up. Also, thank you for coming to my rescue in Econ when I didn't have a colored pen to grade Trea's paper with. It sits on my shelf still.
Job 1:21
It's day 3 of the perfect kayak week*. Trea is the best partner to have while trying to accomplish something like this. He's right down the road, he has a kayak, and he loves it as much as I do. This week was tough though. Our friend, Tricia, was in the hospital after being in a terrible car accident. She was one of three passengers in the vehicle. The other two, her brother and her boyfriend, had died earlier in the week. She was in a coma and the doctors were doing their best to relieve the pressure from her brain. That's another reason why Trea is the best to have around. While others would say it's incredibly selfish to think only of myself while my friend of four years could possibly be dying, Trea wouldn't. Kayaking was the escape. It took our mind off the terrible and focused it on to something beautiful. While Tricia was still on our brains, we couldn't help but think that everything was going to be okay as we watched the sky flood with pinks, oranges, and purples, as the sun set over the water.
We paddled out into the bay. This was actually my first time going into the bay. Before, I hung back as I watched Trea's bravery take him farther than mine would. But this time was different. Carpe Diem really seemed to have much more meaning this week. So when he told me to follow him out into the bigger water, I didn't protest. I stayed by his side.
The air was warm but it had a cozy feeling about it. I took a swig of my water and watched the sky. Yellow's blending into pinks while the sun peered in from behind. This was always my favorite part of the kayak trip. Wide open waters with a view consisting of only waves outlined with the distant trees. Boats scattered about, some zipping circles around themselves, others sitting peacefully enjoying the same sky I am. Every now and then the clouds would move in such a way creating a hazy overcast pink glow. The setting sun peering through at odd angles so one could actually see the rays beaming down over the water. Completely romantic, it seemed as if two total strangers found themselves with each other out on this water, that was it. Instant love. A scheme that only Cupid himself could be to blame. Each ray of sun one of his arrows in disguise. It was a scene that belonged only in a painting, but I got to see it for free. It's in these moments, with the boats, the sun, the water, that made everything seem worth it. As if it were an omen telling me that things really are okay. How could they be bad when there is something as perfect as this moment?
"See how fun it is to try new things, Jillianne?" Trea smiled.
I'm snuggled up in my bed, fan blasting, cat sleeping on my feet, music playing, when my phone lets out its alerting whistle.
I have a message from Trea.
'Jillianne' it reads.
I respond with the obvious 'Trea'
He quickly answers 'She's gone.'
'What are you talking about?'
A moment goes by before my phone whistles again.
'Tricia, she's dead.'
*The perfect kayak week is when one tries to kayak at least a certain distance every consecutive day for one week. It seems easy before one actually starts. After the third day, you really start to feel it. And your poor legs have given up on the concept of "sunburn".
This event happened in late May, and it's taken me a while to be able to write about it. This was before I had the RunKeeper app so I don't have the stats from this trip.
RIP Tricia, I love you and thank you for being my friend at school when no one else was and for always being able to crack me up. Also, thank you for coming to my rescue in Econ when I didn't have a colored pen to grade Trea's paper with. It sits on my shelf still.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
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