Madison

   "Should we sing?  I feel like we should sing," Madison calls out to me across the water.
   "No, that's really -"
   "WHEN THE MOON HITS YOUR EYE LIKE A BIG PIZZA PIE.... THAT'S AMORE," she belts out.
   I quietly laugh and continue to paddle towards the bay.
   "Am I doing better than Sarah Anne?" she asks, beginning the sibling rivalry.
   I couldn't lie, "Honestly, yes. You are.  I mean, nowadays, she is much better.  But she's done it more often.  But her first time? She sucked.  She couldn't go straight, she had no idea.  You, you're killing it."
   "Sweet," she smiles ear to ear.
   As we pass the common "No Wake" signs, I think of the first time Sarah Anne saw one and asked if they had to do with funerals.  I figured Madison will know what they mean.
   "No Wake? What does that mean? You can't wake anyone up?  I guess I should apologize for singing so loudly earlier..."
 
   As we're paddling towards the southern side of the Bay Bridge, rain clouds start to flood the sky.  I bring this to Madison's attention and she seems pretty disappointed.  I try to explain, "If it starts raining, and we're 2 miles away from the house... We are beyond screwed."
   After hearing that, Madison begins to understand.
   We turn the yaks around and watch a mullet hurl itself out from the water about ten feet away from Madison.  She screams out, "FISH! Did you see that?!"
   I laugh, "I did."
   About two seconds later, it jumps out a second time, this time about five feet from Madison.
   "They normally jump in sets of-"
   The mullet jumps out again, flying seven feet in the air, and landing smack dab on the bow of her kayak and then flopping back into the water.
   It takes a moment for us to register what we just witnessed.
   "Madison!" I yell, unable to believe it.
   "Oh oh oh ohhhhh ohh ohh ohhhhh oh, did you see that? It was like two feet away from landing in my kayak!"
   "What would you have done!"
   "I don't know! Probably jump out!"
   I throw my head back laughing in agreement and applaud her for having the coolest experience I've ever seen while kayaking.
   We stay where we are for a few moments, laughing and processing, before the clouds remind us that we need to head back.
   While we pass through Alligator Alley, one of the residents has his sprinkler on.  Part of its range includes a narrow part of the water.  Madison takes this as an invitation.  She smiles and says, "I'm going to go for it. Sprinkler time!"
   I try to stop her, but it was too late.  She is gliding right under the trail, soaking herself while laughing with glee, "YAY!"
   "I'll have to move it closer next time," a man calls out from somewhere.  I look up and see a man standing on the house's balcony.  My face floods with red as I smile and apologize.
   "Oh no, it's fine. Again, I'll move it closer next time for ya."
   I smile at a silent and clearly embarrassed Madison and say, "You hear that, Madison? Next time."
   She laughs quietly, avoiding looking at the man, "Next time."

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.  

Newsletter

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Hello!
   I just wanted to touch base with everyone really quickly.  This upcoming week will be my last week of my first semester as a college student.  While that is exciting, it also means.. finals.  It won't be too stressful, but I wanted to let you know.  Since there are so many study guides and papers to write, I apologize if the post set for Thursday is late.  I'm working on it, but please understand that my grades take priority today.  I'm going to try my absolute best to make sure it's up at some point this coming Thursday though.  And trust me, it's a good story.  I actually wasn't #backontheyak for this one... (dun dun dun) and there's a special guest!
   Also, this week had a milestone for the blog.  4,000 views!!  Thank you to all of my dedicated readers!  I appreciate your kindness and devotion more than you know.  To celebrate this accomplishment and to make up for the possibility of a delay, I have created a new page called The Crew.  You can find the tab for it right next to The Gallery tab in the upper left hand corner of the blog.  If you haven't been to The Gallery, I suggest you do so, there are a ton of pictures from all of my kayaking escapades (uploaded as posts are).  The Crew is a compilation of bios and fun facts about every person who has been featured on the blog.  Everyone, from the more common faces like Sarah Anne, to the rare birds like Graham, has something written about them.
   Thank you all for your understanding.  Here's to thousands more views from readers just as awesome as you! :)

Jillianne
#backontheyak

P.S. A reminder to send hope to all who were impacted by the earthquake in Nepal.  For those of you who would like to send more than hope, here is a link to donate.

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.