>From my log: February 28, 2005 February was a record-breaker, with almost a full month of sunny days, frosty nights and no rain; but, just as I pulled out the driveway, it started to finally rain. I hadn't paddled for six months, and was bound and determined to get my boat wet on this, my 47th Birthday. It'd been a hard weekend and early-starting day of overtime, then Yvonne unexpectedly needed the van all afternoon. The nearest I could figure heading down to the sea was that I'd get an hour on the water -- which was good enough. At 5:10 precisely, my old Nordkapp slid down the wet gravel and effortlessly vested itself of any terrestrial stern-hold, climbing over the small surf. A Southeaster was slowly kicking up, so a nice swell was staring to dominate the seascape along the bay to Albert Head, with just enough rock-garden white-water to get some hull-bashing time in before dark. I threw a few braces, hung myself up a few times, and did a couple of seal-landings and wash-overs. I could feel the rock-hardness of the pinnacle-reefs pressing against the hull, rubbing under my thighs -- great to have a tough-skinned hull. I headed out to a favourite reef, 10-meters square, a foot below the sea-surface. Waves were angling around, forming a nice clapotis directly in the center, right where I placed the kayak. A shot of cold sea-water blew across my grinning face, droplets of briny-composed molecules dripping from my nose and ears. It had been far too long. I followed alongside the dark rocks rising to form the outline of Southern Vancouver Island, between reefs, where feelings of gratitude rebounded against the silhouetted ramparts. I was so grateful to simply be there, paddling freely, back on the sea where all life flows from, my heart happily in sinus rhythm, my extreme, paddling-limiting dizziness hopefully a thing of the past. I never thought I'd make it to 47, dad having died at 46. But there I was, after a year of hospitals and ER rooms, flooded-over with a simple joy, muscles moving, reflexes sensing the undulation in the water, wave-energy pulsations imputed upon the sea's mystical surface -- with good days ahead, new trips to plan, new winds to blow on my face, new waves to paddle over -- endless and infinite. I tried a power paddle, five minutes, to test my mettle. My PVC's were still an extremely annoying artefacts consequentially after all the ablations it seams, but I'll learn to ignore them, even the day-long salvoes of missed beats every four seconds. No, it's not fun, but so much better than the other arrhythmias. Yes, I was now a different person since in my boat last, skinnier, less muscled, and less fat, but the big kid in me was still there. I headed back over to the clapotis, darkness moving in. Storms due the coming weekend. My bow kissed the shore at 6:10. Darkness had fallen. Breath. Move. Pull. Drag. Lift. Tie. Change. Drive away. Thank you ocean. Thank you sea. Then. Home to a loving family. For Birthday cake. Sometimes you can have your cake and eat it too. So goes the life of a seakayaker. Doug Lloyd Victoria BC *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
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