Messing about in boats
May. 26th, 2007 04:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misterx"There is nothing- absolutely nothing- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats." - Ratty
(from Kenneth Grahame's classic, The Wind in the Willows)
For the first time in over a year, I got my kayak out of the basement, threw it on top of the car, and went looking for a shallow put-in. I found a low spot covered in grass along the Watagua river and made sure I had everything tied down before I slid into the water. My boat is a sit-on-top design, and has no internal storage. If I want it along, it's either in the area between my legs, on the deck behind me. I have a small dry box for my keys, wallet and phone... anything else I just clip on to the seat or one of the deck eyelets.
I paddled upstream. Being mindful that I hadn't done this in a while, I figured it better to head against the current, so if I get tired, I could relax and drift on the way back. The river split and split again as I got farther upstream, in places becoming quite narrow and fast. Narrow and fast was ok... just dig in and paddle hard, and you make it through. What gave me fits was fast and *shallow*... so shallow I can't even dig in the paddle without scraping rock. Some of those areas took more than one attempt. And there was twice that it became so wide and shallow that there was not enough water to float, and I found myself jumping out to drag the 'yak upstream a ways.
Eventually I reached areas where no motorboat could go... this is my favorite part about having a kayak. I paddle along in near silence, gliding by turtles, watched sternly by blue herons, occasionally startling a huge carp into an explosion of activity, startling me right back. I approached the remains of a fallen bridge, and for a moment was alarmed by what I thought at first was a swarm of bees. A second later I realized they were swallows... hundreds of them. Just beyond the remains of the old bridge, a new bridge housed a HUGE colony of mud nests underneath. The birds were alarmed by my presence, and filled the air in a huge swirling mass.
A paddled past the old bridge abutment, a concrete "T" with bent rebar sticking out the top like weeds. As I went under the new bridge, I looked down and marveled at the ghostly appearance of an algae-covered guardrail, still attached to an i-beam, several feet below the surface of the water. The noise of the swallows slowly faded behind me as I slid into a huge, wide, calm area, it's surface as flat as glass. Here I rested a while.
I couldn't believe I had let this much time pass since my last kayaking trip. In the past I have called kayaking "my zen activity of choice". Today I was vividly, vividly reminded why.
I turned the boat around, and enjoyed cruising quickly downstream, splashing through the rougher parts, limbo-ing under low-hanging branches and generally having a blast. I reached wider water, and took my time exploring the nooks and crannies of the river, fully paddling around two islands, before eventually returning to where I put in.
If you can't tell, I had a great day thus far.
Tonight, I'm off to Shiro's for a cookout. Or cook-in, if he can't get the grill. :)
For your enjoyment, I'm pasting the first chapter of "The Wind in the Willows", so you can get the opening quote in context.
THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS BY KENNETH GRAHAME CHAPTER I. THE RIVER BANK
`Hullo, Rat!' said the Mole. `Would you like to come over?' enquired the Rat presently. `Oh, its all very well to TALK,' said the Mole, rather pettishly, he being new to a river and riverside life and its ways.
The Rat said nothing, but stooped and unfastened a rope and hauled on it; then lightly stepped into a little boat which the Mole had not observed. It was painted blue outside and white within, and was just the size for two animals; and the Mole's whole heart went out to it at once, even though he did not yet fully understand its uses.
The Rat sculled smartly across and made fast. Then he held up his forepaw as the Mole stepped gingerly down. `Lean on that!' he said. `Now then, step lively!' and the Mole to his surprise and rapture found himself actually seated in the stern of a real boat.
`This has been a wonderful day!' said he, as the Rat shoved off and took to the sculls again. `Do you know, I`ve never been in a boat before in all my life.'
`What?' cried the Rat, open-mouthed: `Never been in a--you never--well I--what have you been doing, then?'
`Is it so nice as all that?' asked the Mole shyly, though he was quite prepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and surveyed the cushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the fascinating fittings, and felt the boat sway lightly under him.
`Nice? It's the ONLY thing,' said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke. `Believe me, my young friend, there is NOTHING--absolute nothing--half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing,' he went on dreamily: `messing--about--in--boats; messing----'
`Look ahead, Rat!' cried the Mole suddenly.
It was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The dreamer, the joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his heels in the air.
`--about in boats--or WITH boats,' the Rat went on composedly, picking himself up with a pleasant laugh. `In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not. Look here! If you've really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing we drop down the river together, and have a long day of it?'
(from Kenneth Grahame's classic, The Wind in the Willows)
For the first time in over a year, I got my kayak out of the basement, threw it on top of the car, and went looking for a shallow put-in. I found a low spot covered in grass along the Watagua river and made sure I had everything tied down before I slid into the water. My boat is a sit-on-top design, and has no internal storage. If I want it along, it's either in the area between my legs, on the deck behind me. I have a small dry box for my keys, wallet and phone... anything else I just clip on to the seat or one of the deck eyelets.
I paddled upstream. Being mindful that I hadn't done this in a while, I figured it better to head against the current, so if I get tired, I could relax and drift on the way back. The river split and split again as I got farther upstream, in places becoming quite narrow and fast. Narrow and fast was ok... just dig in and paddle hard, and you make it through. What gave me fits was fast and *shallow*... so shallow I can't even dig in the paddle without scraping rock. Some of those areas took more than one attempt. And there was twice that it became so wide and shallow that there was not enough water to float, and I found myself jumping out to drag the 'yak upstream a ways.
Eventually I reached areas where no motorboat could go... this is my favorite part about having a kayak. I paddle along in near silence, gliding by turtles, watched sternly by blue herons, occasionally startling a huge carp into an explosion of activity, startling me right back. I approached the remains of a fallen bridge, and for a moment was alarmed by what I thought at first was a swarm of bees. A second later I realized they were swallows... hundreds of them. Just beyond the remains of the old bridge, a new bridge housed a HUGE colony of mud nests underneath. The birds were alarmed by my presence, and filled the air in a huge swirling mass.
A paddled past the old bridge abutment, a concrete "T" with bent rebar sticking out the top like weeds. As I went under the new bridge, I looked down and marveled at the ghostly appearance of an algae-covered guardrail, still attached to an i-beam, several feet below the surface of the water. The noise of the swallows slowly faded behind me as I slid into a huge, wide, calm area, it's surface as flat as glass. Here I rested a while.
I couldn't believe I had let this much time pass since my last kayaking trip. In the past I have called kayaking "my zen activity of choice". Today I was vividly, vividly reminded why.
I turned the boat around, and enjoyed cruising quickly downstream, splashing through the rougher parts, limbo-ing under low-hanging branches and generally having a blast. I reached wider water, and took my time exploring the nooks and crannies of the river, fully paddling around two islands, before eventually returning to where I put in.
If you can't tell, I had a great day thus far.
Tonight, I'm off to Shiro's for a cookout. Or cook-in, if he can't get the grill. :)
For your enjoyment, I'm pasting the first chapter of "The Wind in the Willows", so you can get the opening quote in context.
THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS BY KENNETH GRAHAME CHAPTER I. THE RIVER BANK
`Hullo, Rat!' said the Mole. `Would you like to come over?' enquired the Rat presently. `Oh, its all very well to TALK,' said the Mole, rather pettishly, he being new to a river and riverside life and its ways.
The Rat said nothing, but stooped and unfastened a rope and hauled on it; then lightly stepped into a little boat which the Mole had not observed. It was painted blue outside and white within, and was just the size for two animals; and the Mole's whole heart went out to it at once, even though he did not yet fully understand its uses.
The Rat sculled smartly across and made fast. Then he held up his forepaw as the Mole stepped gingerly down. `Lean on that!' he said. `Now then, step lively!' and the Mole to his surprise and rapture found himself actually seated in the stern of a real boat.
`This has been a wonderful day!' said he, as the Rat shoved off and took to the sculls again. `Do you know, I`ve never been in a boat before in all my life.'
`What?' cried the Rat, open-mouthed: `Never been in a--you never--well I--what have you been doing, then?'
`Is it so nice as all that?' asked the Mole shyly, though he was quite prepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and surveyed the cushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the fascinating fittings, and felt the boat sway lightly under him.
`Nice? It's the ONLY thing,' said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke. `Believe me, my young friend, there is NOTHING--absolute nothing--half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing,' he went on dreamily: `messing--about--in--boats; messing----'
`Look ahead, Rat!' cried the Mole suddenly.
It was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The dreamer, the joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his heels in the air.
`--about in boats--or WITH boats,' the Rat went on composedly, picking himself up with a pleasant laugh. `In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not. Look here! If you've really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing we drop down the river together, and have a long day of it?'
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no subject
on 2007-05-27 12:44 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-05-27 12:54 am (UTC)Now that I think of it, a day out on ANY non-moterized craft would be heaven.
The issue always seems to be finding the time....
no subject
on 2007-05-27 01:44 am (UTC)I'm glad you had such a good time. It sounded amazing.
no subject
on 2007-05-27 09:12 am (UTC)that's how i feel about driving: exploratory.
no subject
on 2007-05-27 02:48 pm (UTC)hope your experience has some sort of lasting effect.