Life is Better in Hiking Boots - Part 3
About ten years ago I climbed into a 6 man outrigger canoe for the first time. I have no idea why. My friend, Monica, had invited me to try it but I am not a big fan of water sports since my sailboat accident in the 70’s, I don’t like to be cold and wet and it looked like it might be difficult - you know, like real exercise. I stepped into the canoe with a little anxiety and was given direction on how to hold the paddle, where to put my feet, the movement of my body to use my larger muscles. The other paddlers are adjusting their positions, their hats, stretching and chatting to each other. The steersperson yells “Paddles up!” All conversation stops and all six paddles are set just above the water. “Hit"!” And down they go, pulled through the water as the canoe moves forward. I was immediately hooked.
When I am paddling I feel the camaraderie of my fellow paddlers. I feel the boat beneath me as the 7th member of our team. As I pull the paddle through the water I feel the pull on every muscle of my body from my feet up to my shoulders down to my fingers. The boat moves through the water with the grace of an eagle and the power of a whale. It lifts with the waves and becomes alive beneath us. We steer it and move it along as we become one. The cadence of the strokes puts us in a zen mode and you can feel everyone’s tension of the day slip away replaced by a peace and calm that transcends everything else. The heat of the day warms our bodies as does the energy we are expending. stroke, glide, stroke, glide, stroke, glide, hut! ho! stroke, glide, stroke, glide, stroke, glide Everything else falls away as our concentration falls deeper into the stroke and gliding action from within the boat. Seals pop up to check us out, seagulls fly over us, an occasional fish jumps to get a better look. Dolphins swim along side and on one very rare occasion we saw a whale. We are constantly affected by the tides, the wind, the currents, the weight in our boat, the steers person searching for the best line. But still we paddle. We never stop paddling. When I am out on the Bay paddling nothing else is with me. I start out thinking about all of the grief I got during the day, problems I had to take care of, issues to deal with and by the time I have gone 15 or 20 minutes, my mind is empty and I am at peace. I often joke that the Bay is polluted with all of my frustration and angst and misery. And once I get out there, I don’t want to come back. Sometimes if I’m on my one man canoe I will just stop and lie down and close my eyes and listen and feel. And there is nothing that can calm me and settle me as well as that.
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A year or two later I am fairly new to steering the 6-man outrigger. Mostly I had steered in relatively calm water but am feeling ready for something more challenging. Today I am going out with 5 experienced paddlers. Cynthia is in seat five. She has experience with steering whitewater rafts on the Colorado River. I feel confident that she can assist if necessary. We head out the Larkspur Creek toward Paradise. The winds are about 10 knots and the water is alive but manageable. Cynthia helps me here and there but in general I am feeling darn good. Then as we pass “the dolphin” the wind starts to pick up and the waves start to show their white underbellies. I don’t have the time to get nervous. My nurse training kicks in and I am totally focused on the popping ama and keeping the boat straight. One of my paddlers is visibly anxious and stops paddling every once in a while when the ama pops. I yell to her to keep paddling - I can’t steer if I don’t have the power. “Power everyone, Power Up!” The wind seems to be getting stronger and just when I am feeling like I can’t handle the boat, we get to Paradise and up along the shore where the wind dies and the water settles. “Wane off” I shout and everyone stops paddling at once. There is lots of nervous laughter and discussion about the building winds. Cynthia assures me that I can get us home and I tell my paddlers that whatever they do, do not stop paddling. They know this without my saying it but it makes me feel better to have said it. After a short break we head north back to Larkspur.
As soon as we get out of the protection of Paradise I know I have made a grave error. The winds have picked up even more - over 20 knots and the canoe is constantly being thrown to the left trying to huddle horizontally into the troughs which would be a major disaster should it succeed. The threat of a huli (flip upside down) is constant as I try to fight the canoe’s desire to turn. In the middle of the whipping wind, the white crowns of the waves and the noise of the weather around us I decide that I should not be steering this boat in these conditions. As if she could stop paddling this minute I yell “Cynthia, maybe you should switch with me. I don’t think I can do this?” “No chance Laura, we can’t switch now. You’re fine. Just stay focused!” My heart is in my throat as my panic rises but once I realize I have no choice I find my center, wave off my moment of panic and concentrate harder than I ever have in my life. I lean into the wind and take it a moment at a time fighting the canoe who still wants to turn sidewise into the troughs. I yell to my crew encouraging words, helping them feel the confidence in me that I am not feeling. It is a long tortuous trip back to Larkspur and when we get back into the channel and the wind has given us a break and the canoe has stopped fighting me and we all breathe a sigh of relief and my adrenaline is at its peak, I count and see that I still have 6 people in the boat and the boat is still upright and I have done it! I have faced Mother Nature and I have won. And I have a whole new respect for this Mother.