Although I didn’t go kayaking for the first time until I was probably a tween, it feels like there was never a time before it.
The first time I ever went was on a river with my grampa, and I brushed against the reeds and grasses so many times that I ended up with a boat full of lanky river spiders. They were crawling all up my arms and legs, and, as you can imagine, that absolutely scarred me. So although I did not give up kayaking, to this day I still prefer to stick to kayaking on open ponds.
Well, specifically one particular pond. It’s only 10 minutes down the road from home and, as Mom puts it: it’s second best to being at the ocean.
It’s pretty small (but big enough to spend a couple hours on), so it’s quiet, and peaceful, and secluded. Often there are maybe just a couple other kayakers or fishermen when we’re out on the water, and there are little shaded nooks all around the perimeter where small circles of chairs sit by the water — where you know people are spending happy summer nights.
(there’s also a big treehouse hidden away in the greenery, and it’s ridiculous how badly we want to look inside)
We don’t necessarily go kayaking a lot in a year, but we do usually end up going right around Mom and Dad’s anniversary (July 16th). Which is ironic, since Dad is not as big of a fan of the pastime as the rest of us are. But Mom uses the special day to her advantage, and the amount of grumbling that happens when he’s asked to load the kayaks into the trailer varies from year to year, depending on how hot the day is, or how tired he may be.
We ended up going on a spontaneous kayaking trip yesterday evening (accidently sticking to the anniversary tradition), which was just what everyone in the house needed — despite the grumbling that may have followed. Personally, the last couple weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster for me, and I’ve just needed to move. Whether it’s running errands, attending birthday parties, visiting Taylor in her new apartment, or going on hikes with the fam — I’ve needed to be out of my head, and, often times, out of my house. So being out on the water was perfect.
And goodness, we must have been giving off some good vibes last night, because everyone we came in contact with was so unexpectedly friendly and talkative. Two adorable little toddlers waved and yelled hello as we passed by, making sure to let us know how much they liked Taylor’s blue kayak; a few friendly fishermen jokingly offered to race us to shore; and two happy couples wading in the warm water (and having a jolly time) made sure to wish my parents a happy anniversary, and to tell us how beautiful we all were.
*blushes*
At the risk of sounding corny, I’ll admit that I’ve noticed that it isn’t necessarily kayaking itself that’s so pleasant to me, but more of who I’m doing it with. As you could probably guess, I get out on the pond with my family more than anyone else.
But what can I say, we all just like to kayak the same way: slowly, quietly, and watching for any kind of interesting water fowl. We get excited about pretty sunsets, and laugh when we see dark clouds rolling in, threatening to drench us on the way back to shore.
you can be assured that Riley Mae’s new camera lens comes with us everywhere we go
See, maybe once upon a time I thought that it was kayaking itself that made kayaking fun, but then I dated this guy…who shall remain nameless.
This boy™ drove me across the entire state of Connecticut to spend the day at his uncle’s lake house (and to see a John Mulaney show, which, unfortunately, did not end up happening). We brought a couple kayaks with us, but as soon as we got a little ways out onto the lake, the skies opened up and it started absolutely pouring. Like a straight-up deluge.
I, of course, started laughing. It was a warm day, and the rain felt nice, so I kinda thought that it just added to the fun. Don’t lovers get stuck in a downpour in every romantic movie ever?? I knew that if my sisters or my mom had been there with me then it would have been deemed a grand adventure — like the time we got a flashflood while camping in our tent, or the time we ran for shelter in the streets of Boston when a microburst unexpectedly hit (both of which are still core memories).
Taylor, Dad, and me in the flashflood at Burlingame campground, 2009. Our tent was like a waterbed, and other campers were kayaking around their sites
But, on that September day, instead of embracing the questionable weather (and kissing me in the rain) he-who-must-not-be-named would not stop complaining about how the day was ruined.
Ruined? Really? By a bit of rain? No matter how many times I tried to lighten the mood, he refused to enjoy any part of it. And sure, we had to climb out on someone else’s dock when the thunder and lightning started, but that’s what makes a memory memorable, isn’t it?? I mean, in my humble opinion anyway.
To put it simply: we were not compatible…in a single way.
So, I’ve discovered that although kayaking is nice, it’s really all about who I’m on the water with. Because when you’re stuck paddling back to shore in relentless winds and strange rapids that popped up out of the blue, you’ve just gotta be in the right company.
And if you can’t laugh at some rainy circumstances…I can assure you — you ain’t it ✌🏻
art by jordan rae 