The Kayaking Prize
Nora and I went kayaking last evening with two new acquaintances who won me as a prize. Huh.
During Poppyfest, I was casting about for a way to get people’s contact information so we could let them know more about LLGTX. My solution was a drawing. Visitors could fill out a ticket, toss it in a jar, and hope for the best.
Most of the prizes were donated by Mas Fajitas restaurant here in Georgetown. They are remarkably generous when it comes to these things, so we eat there frequently. Especially taco Tuesdays.
There were other prizes too, including one I offered: an evening paddle on Lake Georgetown to watch the sunset and then turn around and watch the full moon rise.
Lisa won the prize and asked if she could bring her friend Shirley. Of course she could. So we started going back and forth on timing. There aren’t many options, considering there’s only about one full moon a month and the sky has to be clear and all parties have to be in town on that date. Some prizes are more difficult than others. It took four months. Yesterday worked.
“Meet at the Cedar Breaks boat ramp at 7:00. Bring a water bottle and take into consideration the fact that your seats will get wet.” “Seats” is a euphemism. I really meant the things you sit in the seats.
It was the first time kayaking for either of them, so clearly a mixture of apprehension and excitement. The fact that it was a learning experience for both of them suddenly tied it to Lifelong Learners GTX and made it part of my job. Win win!
Nora and I met them at the boat ramp, put the kayaks in the water, pulled the gear out of the car. Four life jackets. Four kayaks. Four… no wait… two paddles. Ooops. It gives a dramatic appreciation for being up the creek without a paddle. Kayaking without a paddle is like driving a car without an engine, except you don’t have to make engine noises, so it’s quieter. A checklist would have been helpful, but since I usually forget to check the checklist, not all that helpful.
Meantime, the boat ramp filled with sirens and flashing lights and uniforms filled with EMT’s and police officers and park rangers. Some guy who was new to jetboats had an incident that may have included a lot of alcohol. While someone held his head to keep it from presumably falling off, he moaned over and over that he couldn’t move. It sounded like a broken neck to me, but I couldn’t learn more because I had to race back to the house for two more paddles.
Race is exactly the right word, but it was in vain. When I got back to the park, vehicles blocked my way to the parking lot and none of my tried-and-true diplomacy tricks got me past the roadblock for ten minutes.
I was getting a bit antsy. I had done my research and knew the moon would rise right around 8:00. We didn’t want to miss it. I finally got parked and headed down the boat ramp. Halfway down, I realized I had left the paddles in the car. This wasn’t going well. So back to the car. On my way down the boat ramp this time one of my paddles fell apart. The blade just fell out of the shaft. Huh. This still wasn’t going well. A paddle without a blade is a stick. Sticks aren’t that great for paddling kayaks.
As luck would have it, there was a roll of tape right there on the ground where my paddle fell apart. Sometimes divine intervention is a real thing. But not this time: It was that blue painters tape that’s designed to not stick very well. Divine intervention would have specified duct tape. I picked it up anyway, and used it, and it didn’t stick.
By now I was wondering if Lisa and Shirley were starting to realize who they were dealing with and were ready to throw in the towel. But no such thing. Nora said they were having the time of their lives just messing around getting acquainted with the kayaks, and by the time I got back they were wondering where they could buy some. “I LOVE THIS,” Lisa shouted. Some people are irrepressible.
Off we went, downwind into the sunset. Beginners should never start off downwind because home is a hard paddle upwind, but by now it was too late for best practices. It was glorious. Lisa kept banging into any other boat within shouting distance, which she said was accidental, but how can you possibly keep banging into boats on a lake that big without trying?
We took pictures of the setting sun. And more pictures because taking pictures in kayaks is its own sort of challenge. We oohed and ahhed. We reveled in the wind, the beauty, the banter, the sheer joy of riding the waves. I held my paddle together with my outstretched hand.
About the time the moon was supposed to come up we turned from west to east and worked our way slowly upwind to watch for it. And watch for it. And watch for it. 8:00. 8:15. 8:30. 8:45. I was about to give up and apologize for the fact that for the first time in cosmic history the moon wasn’t coming up after all when we noticed a burned-red arc on the horizon.
Oh. 9:00. How could I have misread that? But there it was, rising huge and fast and bathing the lake in its beautiful light. There is little to compare with watching from the water with the moonbeam coming right to your boat. Magical.
We lingered, drifting downwind again right to the boat ramp. Now the hard part: It’s always a little bit fun watching newcomers get out of a kayak, but we don’t laugh out loud even if they end up sitting in the water. I won’t give names. Fortunately I had warned them about their seats getting wet, but of course I meant in the boats.
All in all, unforgettable. Lisa and Shirley were awed. And what did we learn?
- Checklists are a good thing. Using them is even better.
- A roll of duct tape should be on the checklist. There won’t always be the right kind of tape in the parking lot.
- After sunset, every boat needs a light and a life jacket. This according to the Park Ranger in the boat that sidled up alongside us with a spotlight. He was very nice. We were too.
- Sometimes when you invite complete strangers to go paddling with you, you get lucky.
P.S. According to the police, the guy with the lolling head was okay. Probably nothing so serious that some coffee in the morning wouldn’t make him feel almost normal again. Lesson learned?
