Paddling kayak just to be paddling is nice, but if I'm going to spend all of this money on gear it sure would be nice to have 'a mission'. For example, last time I was out I found a fishing boat that had run out of gas and I towed it 1 1/4 miles with my kayak. Up until I had met the luckless fisherman (he probably didn't even catch any fish that day) I was just another kayaker putzing around. But as soon as I saw someone in need, that became my mission and I tackled it will zealful delight. Me and my kayak saved the day! This morning I was out early and all was quiet and the water was still. I paddled for about an hour and a half up the Sammamish Slough which the city fathers would like us all to call the Sammamish River. Whatever. I didn't bring a camera because at this point all of my kayak pictures look pretty much alike. So that couldn't be my mission. There were no other boaters around so obviously saving someone in distress was not going to be my mission today. I was actually pretty happy about that one. And exercise is NEVER my mission even though I may tell a different story once it's all done with. Then when I was passing in the shallows next to a golf course I spotted 3 golf balls in about 10 inches of water. THAT would be my mission. I would scower the bank for lost balls. A humble but profitable mission since I would be able to use them myself - probably returning most of them to the water very soon. Hunting (fishing?) for golf balls turned out to be a blast. There were all kinds of little tricks required to get them. Some of them I had to push up into shallower water with my paddle making sure they didn't roll down into darkness. I had to be careful not to stir up the bottom. Blackberry bushes along the shore made retrieval challenging on some of them. And of course tipping over was always a clear and present danger. In the end I found and collected 14 balls. Heck, I found 16 if you include the 2 that rolled off of my spray skirt and had to be retrieved again! I heard several golf balls *kasploosh* while I was 'working'. Maybe I could go over and help out a fellow hack. That would definately be a good mission! But they landed in deep water and I never saw the golfers anyway. I paddled on past the golf course and further up the slough feeling pretty good about my profitable venture. On the way back I would hit the other shore and who knows how many more I would get! Until then I would just go back into putz mode for a while before I went back to work. And then for some reason, it hit me. Out of the clear blue I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to put my parking permit in my window. It would be a $66 dollar fine for something that I actually had paid for and had right there in the glove box of my truck! What would become of me? Would I be able to contest this? Probably not. Probably wouldn't even be able to find out who or where to contest. Probably there would be some web site on the ticket I would have to go to in order to find out how to contest. And then the web site would be so cluttered with useless so called information that I wouldn't be able to even find an email address to write to. And even if I found one I doubt if I would ever get a reply. And that would probably get caught in my spam filter and never get read in time. Now I had a REAL MISSION. I had to get back to the launch. NOW! I turned on the juice and put everything I had into my little home built folding kayak. There were no breaks. No putzing. I passed the opposite shore of the golf course without so much as glancing into the water. Was I already too late? Probably. It was going to be noon soon. Did 'they' check the lot at noon? Maybe. I could probably get there before noon but I would really have to push the envelope. My focus was on getting the most out of every stroke. I passed the 'Speed Limit - 5 Knots' bouys TRYING to break the law. Damn their 'NO Wakes'! Damn the ducklings. I had a MISSION by god and nothing was going to keep me from pushing my 53 year old heart burn to the limit! I was in the zone. Soon I could see the bridge, and then my truck. It was only then that I slowed down, fairly confident that if the fuzz was checking my front mirror hanger, I would be able to talk him down. And if the ticket was already there, then there really was no reason to kill myself at this point. I coasted onto the beach. I had paddled 3 miles in 45 minutes - a steady 4 mph to get here. I got out of the boat and walked over to the truck and looked under the windshield wiper. No ticket. I had beat THE MAN. Mission Accomplished. Paul Montgomery paul_at_paddleandoar.com http://paddleandoar.com *************************************************************************** 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/ ***************************************************************************
Great story from Paul Montgomery -- "Then when I was passing in the shallows next to a golf course I spotted 3 golf balls in about 10 inches of water. THAT would be my mission." -- reminded me of an earlier "mission" of my own. The Naval Air Station at Patuxent River, Maryland includes several large lagoons and, I'm told, a great golf course. As a volunteer (and with base credentials -- and in earlier days), I often worked for the award-winning base environmental shop, making use of kayaks on a mission! The green guys provided an extensive array of dead sticks -- to all appearances -- which I was to "plant" on eroded banks around the perimeter of the backwaters. Willow trees would magically grow from these sticks stuck in the mud and stabilize the littorals. (Nobody in that shop has ever read Michner's book, "Chesapeake", obviously.) But it was a mission, it was environmentally sound, and it was a great excuse for a hall pass to go paddling. But it led to another mission -- the recovery of golf balls -- which is the segue from Paul's story. I mentioned that there was a golf course on the base? It wound around the backwaters of this incredibly beautiful piece of land on the Patuxent River. In the course of schleping willows-to-be about, I happened upon a vast field of golf balls in very shallow water near an embankment -- which, if I failed in my willowing, would soon be part of Harness Creek. As a non-golfer, these missiles had little value to me, but they were probably of value to others -- possibly golfers. Since there was a golf course in this area -- the mind was working slowly in the hot, muggy afternoon -- I decided to reward some golfer who might pass by, and I picked up all the newewt, cleanest balls I could find -- probably some 75 to 100 -- and lobbed them up over the brush onto the embankment. (It hadn't occurred to me yet that this seemed to be an unusually high concentration of golf balls in one area. Again, hot, muggy.) It was only when I heard something resembling a golf cart noise and four men all talking at once that I reasoned the start of the terrible truth: I had just launched 100 golf balls onto the ninth green in the middle of a golf tournament of some consequence. (To golfers, anyway.) That association occurred more or less simultaneously with the sound of "Holy s--t!!!" from the first golfer to eye the green. There were probably ten of his particular balls to choose from -- as there were for the other three. My mind, now working to some degree, urged me to make myself -- and my flourescent yellow sit-on-top (the ideal vehicle for willowing) as inconspicuous as possible under the brush. Which I did. The expletives turned into hysterical laughter as the athletes, baffled at their bounty and now their suspect scores, tried to envision how such a thing could come to pass. (Since many of these gents were probably retired admirals, I reasoned that I had a decent head start on the thought process.) I maintained a very low profile on the opposite creek, willowing away near a huge, red and white squared radar site (in the middle of the creek), which is why, in distant years to come, the western creek will remain willowy and extant while the golf course will, appropriately, follow Mr. Michner's prophecy and fall into the sea. Jack Martin *************************************************************************** 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/ ***************************************************************************
I totally agree with you that kayakers should have a mission. Then upon completion, we get to hang a large "Mission Accomplished" banner on the nearest aircraft carrier or battlestar. Before setting out, you could try an internet search under "damsels in distress" or "Department of Homeland Security needs help finding sleeper cells on the water" or "diligent kayakers needed to detect evil polluters" or "kayakers wanted for searching for illegal aliens swimming underwater using snorkles" or "kayakers needed to run down and catch drug smugglers in fast cigar boats", etc. The possibilities are endless. Bradford R. Crain *************************************************************************** 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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