Me and My Kayak

Did you ever have a "Happy Place"?  A certain place where you go off by yourself to just be?  To think, observe, and be at peace? Many people do, I think, especially when they're children.  My first place was the bathroom closet.  Now before you laugh, it was a large closet and I was a small child!  It had a louvered door, and I was always fascinated with the patterns of the light as it came through the louvers and laid on the towels.  Of course I couldn't see those patterns unless I went in the closet and shut the door, and of course I couldn't help it if that was the same time that my Mom was looking for me.  I suppose that's part of what makes a Happy Place special, one never gets to stay there for long.

As I got older, my Happy Place changed.  There was that certain corner in the hay loft, that certain branch in the catalpa tree, that certain cedar that hung out over the gulley in the back section of the farm.  The Happy Place can be anywhere one finds it - when I was young it was often on the back of my horse - now it's on the lake in my kayak.

Thirteen feet eight inches of green plastic; wide in the middle and pointed at each end. A seven foot aluminum shaft with oddly shaped plastic bits at both ends. Doesn't sound like much, does it?  But oh the places we go! 

Sometimes we're out on the Great Lake, nothing but tall billows of mysterious blue between me and Canada.  There's an edge of excitement and fear.  Tipping here would be disaster, can't let the current pull me sideways, paddle, paddle, paddle, hang on....now, turn and stroke hard!  Then a deep sigh as I glide safely back into the harbor and an irrepressible urge to giggle nervously as I've cheated the waves one more time.

Sometimes we're out on the Bay, calmer, more protected, much more shallow - yet if the wind picks up still a challenge.  It's invigorating to paddle straight out, slicing into each wave, the bow slapping down in the trough, spray flying, a ferocious grin on my face.  Or it's a quiet day, and I paddle lazily, letting the tide take me where it will as I lose myself in watching the drops fall from the end of my paddle and shatter into brilliant reflections.

Sometimes we're out under a hot sun on an airless August afternoon, the water flat and green, egrets slowly stalking the shallows and glaring at us when we get too close. I slump back in the seat, legs up over the edges of the cockpit, feet trailing in the water 'til even that isn't cooling enough and I roll out, falling into the delicious green coolness and swim for a while, my kayak patiently waiting on it's tether.

Sometimes we get to the edge of the water, and God says "not today".

Sometimes we paddle back into the channels, watching for deer and eagles in the wooded section, and admiring the tall, fancy houses in the development.  Once I almost hit a turtle with my paddle, and more than once I've had big carp bump into the bottom of my 'yak.  Now that is a disturbing feeling!

Sometimes we go out when the sun is striking red and gold fire in the maple leaves, and the sky is so blue and deep that I feel I could float right on up into that limitlessness, if only I could paddle a little harder.  I pick up the leafy jewels from the water, and lay them along the side of my kayak just to enjoy them more.

Sometimes we'll float down a river, drawn along by wondering what is around each bend; startled by fishermen on the bridge yelling when we catch their unseen filament lines with our paddles and instinctively ducking as a beet truck thunders across the highway bridge just as we pass under.

Sometimes we'll travel to a new put-in and discover new views, like a towering rock shaped like a turnip or small caves in the shoreline that are invisible from land.

Sometimes we go out when the mist has come in, and all is shrouded in white mystery.  The sun becomes shy and peeks out every so often to see if we're still there.  Everything is perfectly calm and sounds carry for miles, each stroke of the paddle sending watery echoes to the shore.  The reflection of the house behind us somehow lays out in front of us and we're paddling over the image of the back door - which is on the opposite side of the house!  After experiencing that,  I wasn't quite sure we were going to make it back to the same reality we had left just an hour before.

Sometimes we'll load the kayaks on the trailer and head out for adventures up north. 

And sometimes we go out so late in the season that everyone else has given up for the year.  We paddle past closed up cottages, with boats in their yards, sleeping under tarps.  We work our way around large pieces of ice, oak leaves frozen perfectly flat into the surface.  Stopping to take a picture gets a little more complicated when I realize the breeze has pushed my kayak up onto the shore ice, and I have to use my paddle like a ski pole to push back off into the water.

Sometimes I'll do crazy things with my kayak - which doesn't always work out well.  I've learned that a Garmin GPS unit is waterproof as advertised but phones and cameras are not; that paddling along the outside edge of a harbor breakwall is a bad idea; that shooting a shotgun while seated in a kayak will not send you scooting backwards across the water; nor will hooking a large fish on your line drag the kayak along behind it - unless you haven't dropped the anchor.

We've had some adventures, my kayak and I.  The green is beginning to look a bit faded; there are bumps and bruises and many, many scratches; the paddle is battered and scraped, all of it mute testimony to hours of fun.   And each time I haul my boat out I am again so thankful to my Mom for introducing me to kayaking, and buying my boat for me.  Thanks Mom!  Many times she and my daughter are along for these wonderful adventures, which makes my Happy Place even happier.

And we keep looking for converts!  Friends that visit are often dragged out to the water with nothing more than a 'try this you'll like it', and after paddling around for a bit, most whole-heartedly agree.  It's so much fun to see someone else get bit by the paddling bug, and I always hope that I've helped them find a Happy Place.

Now doesn't that make you want to come along?

Falling into Fall

More like plummeting, actually.  Not gentle like Alice in the rabbit hole, floating along and watching things drift by, but a headlong, wind-roaring-in-the-ears flight.  Tomatoes, beans, carrots, venison, apples - my canners live on my stove, my counter is never free of jars!  Grass cutting.  Putting the big cover on the pool and the pool pump in the basement. Lots of painting, too.  Yes, for some reason, I always seem to end up painting my porch in October.  Today's effort was to powerwash the house, only to find out that the powerwasher is dead.  So I spent the day with the long-handled scrub brush, getting what I could reach and hosing it all down.  Not as nice as I wanted it, but at least I got the mold off the north wall, the walls around the front door scrubbed, all the windows washed as well. Glad that's done, but my goodness my shoulders are unhappy! 
My antique miracle apple tree has given about four bushels of apples this year.  Extra bounty God sent along because we had no apples in Michigan last year.  I still have about six 5-gallon buckets full to process; most will be applesauce but I'm thinking about making apple juice, too.  It would be nice to have some without pesticides or arsenic or corn syrup added!
When the weather allows, I tend to process my apples out on the patio.  Between boiling the apples to soften them, then dipping them out and putting them through the Victorio strainer, I tend to make quite a mess and it's great to keep all that outside. I love having that strainer - it's the very one my Mom and I used all the time back on the farm.  It's so easy to use, and it's perfect for using the smaller, somewhat gnarly apples we get from the older trees that don't get sprayed.  All I do is chop the apples in quarters, remove the wormy or bruised bits, and throw them in a pot of boiling water on my grill.  Once they've softened enough, I just run them through the strainer and it takes out all the seed, stems, and peels, leaving me with clean applesauce. I jar up the sauce and can it, I like it better than frozen applesauce.  I add water, since the strainer leaves the apples dry, and certain secret spices.  Good stuff!

Jars of Goodness

The house is too quiet with Daughter gone off to college, and some of the chores are a bit much without help.  We only have a 13' above ground pool, one of the blue ones you see in everyone's back yard during the summer - but have you ever tried putting a cover on one by yourself when the wind is blowing?  I finally gave up and waited for her to come home for a weekend and help.
I did get a couple of chances to go outside and play, kayaking and geocaching for a few hours here and there. My Mom and I have been checking out different put-ins for the kayaks and recently paddled several miles on a local river, it was fun but we learned to be careful going under bridges, after a close call with a fisherman's line.  That monofilament stuff is impossible to see when you're just paddling along, minding your own business; thankfully niether one of us dropped a paddle or anything when the guy holding the pole at the other end of the line suddenly yelled at us.
Michigan is just awesome this time of year and I love being out in the elements when it's all happening and changing.  I went on an 'explore' one day last week, and ended up in a small state park on the lakeshore.  It was one of those signature Michigan October days with a stiff northwest wind and bright sunshine chasing the clouds.  The lake was dark blue, looking so cold and deep and lonely one could see November lurking in it's depths, and for once I had no desire to challenge it with a kayak.  A series of white, mountainous clouds came sailing in from the north and stumbled over the low-lying, flat gray clouds that had been hanging over the lake. They tumbled over each other and continued moving south, dragging skirts of snow showers along. 

I moved from the shore along a trail into a lowland woods filled with popples and maples and oaks, all dressed in their autumn finery and chattering loudly to each other, bending their faces away from the wind.  The air was clear, fresh, and filled with the heady scent of fallen leaves, with a hint of woodsmoke and the round, blue scent of the lake. I rounded a corner on the trail just as the sun burst through the overcast, touching a sugar maple and lighting it into scarlet flame.  A sudden gust shook the tree and I threw my head back and laughed and danced in the shower of red and gold, arms spread wide, exulting in the cold, fresh, bright glory, feet shuffling through the carpet of leaves.

Dancing Boots

The sunlight disappeared just as quickly, and I lowered my arms, belatedly looking about to see if anyone else was around.  Thankfully, I had the park to myself that day, or my face would have been as scarlet as the leaves!  I walked the length of the trail, through a light rain that seemed surprised to find itself landing on my shoulders as tiny bits of snow.  It felt so good to move and stretch and warm my muscles with the exercise as my eyes drank in the beauty all around me.  I was tired and happy when I got back to the truck, and finished off a great afternoon with a peaceful drive home, heater on high and a blazing sunset for company.  Doesn't get much better than that!  Happy Autumn, my friends!

One of my favorite viewpoints

"...run around the house three times."

When I was little, and complained of not feeling well, my Mom's first response was always "go outside and run around the house three times".  While at first glance that may seem a trifle harsh, especially in this politically correct age, there was a gem of wisdom there.  If I was truly sick, I would simply look up at her with glassy eyes and wipe my runny nose on my sleeve, and before I knew it I was dosed with a combination of honey, whiskey, and lemon juice and propped up with pillows on the sofa.  If I was just feeling sort of punky and she chased me outside, I would run around in the fresh air and sunshine and usually feel better right away.

Scientists today have all sorts of names for this phenomenon, speaking of endorphins, or getting vitamins from the sun, and so it may be, but really I think it's more a matter of attitude and a sort of toughness.  Fighting through feeling sluggish and out of sorts to get muscles moving is an accomplishment that can make all the difference.  To this day it's still her stock answer, and one I use on my own daughter.  We even use the phrase on each other as a way of motivating ourselves to go do something fun when we're so tempted to just sit on the deck in the comfy chairs.

This evening was another such time.  After spending the weekend putting up fifty pounds of potatoes, canning twenty jars of green tomato relish and another fifteen of hot pepper jam, then rushing through endless files at work, I really wanted nothing more than my recliner.  Mom has a pretty stressful, lousy sort of job too, and was ready to just chill.  But the air was warm, the leaves were gorgeous, and the lake was calling.  We just HAD to get out there in the kayaks!  I mean, how many chances will we have yet before the water gets hard?  So instead of sitting on the deck, we pushed each other to hauled out the 'yaks and trek out to the water. 

Ahhhh, how worth it!  The water was a dark, moody gray, choppy with small waves but with also with flat, smooth areas mysteriously reflecting the cloudy sky.  I could feel the stress just fall away as I dug and pulled, dug and pulled, hands tight on the paddle, shoulders straining, heart pumping.  The wonderful scent of burning leaves drifted out to us as we paralleled the shore, the water gently slapping against our boats.  A dozen deer, a mixture of yearlings and does, barely paused their browsing to watch us float by.  Turkeys moved among the deer, occasionally chortling and cooing to each other, and a couple of mischievous squirrels chittered loudly as they chased each other in circles up and down the trunk of a giant oak.  The deer would waggle their ears at the squirrels, as if to say "quit making so much noise".  Sometimes we paddled and chatted, sometimes we simply sat and drifted, enjoying the peace, the scenery, and each others company.  It wasn't until we heard rumbles of thunder in the distance that we headed in for supper.

By the time I left, we were both feeling better, more relaxed, and quietly energized.  I'm so blessed to have such a wise Mom, who has taught me well and been a wonderful example; and it's so good that we live where we can grab a kayak and put it in the water any time we want.  Having the Great Lakes to play in is truly great!

So remember the next time you're feeling sort of down and out of sorts, go outside and run around the house three times. (Or paddle a boat, ski down a hill, maybe even just go for a walk.) You'll be better for it!