Re: [Paddlewise] How's the Weather

Doug,  

Welcome back!  This was just lovely to read.  I think you could have titled 
this "How's Doug."  Glad to see you're doing so well and that you're enjoying 
paddling even if you're not getting wet.  Your spirit is surely back, and I'm 
sure the body will soon be where you want it to be as well.

Hank

> 
> Saturday afternoon I leave work a bit early when the power goes out,
> heading down to Oak Bay to see the waves. As they come into view,
> emotions flooded my mind, rushing deep down to my toes. It's a sensation
> that's not all too unfamiliar to me. It's been part of my life for
> decades. Lookie-loos had lined the roadway, observing the storm.
> Normally I would have had my kayak on the roof-racks. My toes would have
> been tingling, and my heart pounding. It's a feeling of co-mingled
> excitement and dread. Dread that any mariner in a small boat would head
> out into those rough seas. A feeling that the intended little adventure
> was wrong in any one's book -- not something sane to do -- yet then
> being inexorably drawn into the strom in one's kayak.
> 
> But I can't kayak these days. So, I just looked at the seas like the
> rest of the boring slobs. I parked the van and trespassed across the
> golf course to the water. I didn't need to worry about golf balls flying
> on that day. My OR winter cap with double-cinch straps barely stayed on.
> The wind was howling -- and very cold. Waves crashed into the reefs. I
> think about Steve, who was supposed to do a crossing of Juan de Fuca
> that weekend. I hoped he didn't go. I then think of Gareth and his
> buddy. They were supposed to leave that weekend too, for their Victoria
> to Alaska paddle. I doubted they had left. I performed an experiment,
> standing firmly against the gusts, trying to gauge the intensity of the
> wind as part of an article I'm writing where a lady was blown over on
> the beach in a wind storm off Baffin Island.
> 
> Then I just stood still and looked. My link to the sea is indissoluble,
> but that day at the shore this past weekend I could only observe. The
> winter storms are winding down. Spring is near. I've never missed
> paddling in a at least one winter storm. There's always a first time.
> But wild seas never fail to stupefy me. Daylight had started to run out.
> I had then gotten cold. My leg had started to hurt. I went on to engage
> the more cognitive machinations of mind, elucidating the environmental
> reality that was playing out before my eyes -- thinking how privileged I
> was to still be alive enough to view the spectacle that was washing in.
> Life is terminal, and we all die one day to be redissolved into the
> material component substances of earth and sea. I finally made the
> spiritual connection I was seeking. I then visualized myself blasting
> over the shore break, headed for adventure, breathing hard, pushing on
> the paddle to the max.. At the point where the demarcation between the
> inner and outer mind dissipated, I headed back to the van. In a sense, I
> had made it out in my kayak. I was satisfied and happy again. I got home
> late for dinner, then talked to my wife about the weather  -- and other
> usual stuff. But she wonders why I was late home.
> 
> Doug Lloyd
> 



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