Today I hopped into my kayak. This may sound like no big deal to you, but let me tell you how mistaken you are. There are three ways to get into a kayak. One is to stand in shallow water, hold your oars across the seat for balance, and get in. The second is to get in on shore and have someone drag you into the water. The third is to throw your oars onto the back landing of the big boat that is tied to the dock, chuck the kayak into the water, draw it parallel to the boat, hop onto the boat, crouch down, put one hand on the back of the boat and one on the far side of the kayak seat, place both feet into the kayak, swing into it before you flip it over, grab your oars and off you go. So now you're thinking options one and two are the obvious answers. You are so wrong. Remember I live on the ocean rather than the lake. This means the tide goes in and out. This means that the dock is very very long. Part of the day, the tide is in and at the wall separating the ocean from my lawn. The rest of the day, the tide is probably 100m out. So in order to have the dock in the water all the time, there's a very long walkway between the lawn and the dock. Remember now that this is me we are considering. I look at options one and two and immediately think: "do i really want to drag the kayak ALL THE WAY to shore?" Obviously not! So i proceed to leap on the boat. The first few attempts at this maneuver, which will hereafter be referred to as "Operation Get in the Kayak," or "OGK," are quite difficult. Once you are on step "hold the boat with one hand, the kayak with the other, and put your feet in," you very quickly notice that the boat and the kayak are bobbing at different times, which throws your balance off (Or at least it does for land lubbers like me). Next, you realize that every time you try shifting your weight to your feet from your bottom (which is safely seated on the back of the boat) the kayak wobbles and threatens to toss you overboard. The secret to OGK is to keep your weight on your arms because they are holding you steady and the boats together. Then you shift your bottom from the boat down into the kayak as quickly as possible, because any hesitation results in more kayak bouncing and more time to panic. In fact, I almost named it "Operation Throw Yourself into the Kayak Before You Hesitate too Much and Throw Yourself Into the Water Instead," but that seemed a little excessive.
On with the story! Where was I? Oh yes, so today I hopped into my kayak. Technically the landlady's Kayak, but Margie is very nice and lets us use it at whim. The water below me (at the boat I was now alongside) was probably 6-10 feet deep. But perfectly clear! I decided at first to row myself under the dock walkways alongside the shore of the cove, for due to the tide fluctuations they are built very high up. As a rowed myself along I admired the underwater life. Most of the water and beaches here are rocky, and I admired the different colours of the smooth stones. The world below me was calm and golden from the sunlight. I passed over top of starfish, stretching themselves out in the warm shallow water. Little crabs scuttled about, and some bigger ones lay upside down, quite dead, their hard white bellies standing out from the rocks.I missed Dave the seal on this ride, though, probably because I started through the shallows rather than heading straight across the water as I usually do.
I went passed the marina at the end of the cove, and the water was deep. There was only one person at the gas station. I suppose it will be much quieter now without the summer tourists and vacationers. I turned left to head up Indian Arm, where some seagulls perched on floating logs. One of them started squawking at me and I nearly splashed it, but the boat guy from the marina was coming up behind me now and I didn't want him to think poorly of me. So the jerk seagull got away with his rude behaviour. Around this time I realized how deep the water must be. The arm is a 22km long fjord that gets quite deep (hence the cove's name), and I was probably on top of 500 feet of water. Remember, lake Ontario at its deepest point is just over 700 feet, and most of this area, much smaller, is over 600 feet at many points. Here the water is grey and blue and green and brown reflecting the sky and trees and mountains. But when I look directly down the water is so inky black I cannot imagine what might be lurking in. I started moving a little faster to avoid sea monsters. I calmed down a little closer to Raccoon isl when a seal poked its nose up to investigate me. I laughed as it played, then turned for home. The rest of the trip was lovely, I admired all the beautiful scenery and fresh air. I was almost alone on the water, excepting one motor boat that passed me and a tour boat far far in the distance. I went quickly at some places, testing myself and working on technique, and slowing when my arms tired, looking around me at the crazy cliffs and wondering who decided to build houses on them, having to go up and down six flights of stairs between the water and their houses.
On my return I still did not splash the seagull. I didn't want to get the wrong one. Finally I made my way home, completed OGOK (Operation Get Out of Kayak) (pretty easy, actually, I'm getting good at this), and resumed my lame-ass-getting-nowhere job hunt.
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