So there I was, being forcibly shoved into a tight life-vest..."Excuse me...Hannah? Do you have anything a bit more..." (I gestured helpfully) "...accommodating?" "She's giving herself FAR too much credit," Savannah told our guide, Hannah, jerking my hand down, "You're fine," my daughter snapped, dragging me over to the helmets. Hannah had managed to stay with us. "Is your head large, medium, or small?" "Do you ask EVERYBODY that question?" I inquired, worried about Hannah being caught up a dramatic lawsuit situation. Savannah glared at me and simply grabbed up any old helmet while Sydney and I launched ourselves into a ten-minute philosophical conversation about what constitutes "big." We ascertained that my skull size is bigger than a cantaloupe but smaller than a watermelon. "What about a coconut? How about bowling ball-sized?" Apparently Hannah had an eye for such things and both Sydney and I were thrilled to find we were mediums.
Approximately twenty of us were in the group so Hannah got us together in a circle so we could
become acquainted. "Hi, Everyone!" I said to my new kayaking companions and soon-to-be-lifelong-friends, "My name is Amy. I'm from around Buffalo-way. I've successfully kayaked backwards down several Class 2 rapids and if I could choose to be any creature in the sea, I would be a Puffer Fish." "Hi, Amy," my sea-faring support group chorused. Once we'd all channeled our inner-sea creature, we set off to meet Alex, for a quick tutorial. "My name is Alejandro," he said musically, "but you may call me Alex." With a glance, Sydney and I communicated telepathically. Oh no...he would forever be Alejandro. We love the song AND can roll our rs (Again..thank you, Outlander.).Oh. The waves. I'd forgotten about the waves. Initially, I was just worried about getting in and out of the kayak but now I was faced with remembering three instructions to make it past the break line. I've seen Castaway. If poor Tom Hanks couldn't paddle past the break line, how was I supposed to? Well, it was too late now. Here we go: Point the tip of your kayak forward. Paddle hard. Here comes the wave! Lie back! Lie back! Lie back! Oh. We did it. What the heck was Tom Hanks' problem? Maybe it was because he didn't have a pointy end on his little life boat. Poor dear.
It was time to navigate our way through the magical kelp forest. It can grow up to two feet a day! Apparently there were leopard sharks as well but, unfortunately, visibility would preclude our spotting them. "I can't see the magical kelp forest," I complained to Sydney who kept telling me to stop just paddling right as we were whirl-pooling our way across the water. I reassured her that I WAS paddling on both sides; it's just that I'm apparently right-paddle-dominant, "All this nasty sea weed is in my way." "I think that nasty sea weed IS the magical kelp forest," Sydney said, shattering the illusion.
Along with a thousand other kayakers, we approached the sea cave. "Raft up," Hannah yelled pleasantly. She then proceeded to ask rhetorical questions that I insisted on answering. "Who knows the scientific name for bird poo?" Hannah asked. My hand whipped up. My daughters had never been so proud and I, of course, had now endeared myself to my fellow kayakers.
Sydney, overly-concerned about being dashed to death up against the stone cliffs, was insistent on listening to the safety instructions while I was busy unwrapping the magical kelp forest from around my paddle, apologizing profusely to snorkelers that I had inadvertently kayaked over, and sporadically squealing, "Look! A seal!" a thousand times.
Apparently 87 minutes of the 90 minute tour is waiting for your turn to paddle into the sea cave. Alejandro was in there waiting for us. I think I may have accidentally stumbled onto the plot structure of book with low morals. There was a seal in there too, which lends the scene some class. The view looking OUT of the cave was breath-taking. And reassuring, based on yesterday's post. Looking from the outside of the cave to the interior, it's just a dark hole. But looking from the inside of the cave to the outside was picturesque. Hopeful. Maybe some strange guy DIDN'T actually see me in the bathroom.
We paddled back, bumper-car-style, through the magical kelp forest. During that time, Sydney stood and balanced on our boat before leaping into the Pacific, a sea lion circled our boat, and I discovered Sydney doesn't know how to use an analog clock to orient things geographically. Eleven o'clock, Sydney," I told her, to show her our target position on the beach. I think she may have looked straight up in the air. We've been practicing since. She pointed out something to me yesterday along the horizon and I said, "What time?" She said, "Two-thirty."
We pointed the tip of our kayak to our target. Paddled hard. Lie back! Wheeeee!!!! Alejandro caught us as we held our paddles over our heads victoriously. "Oh man! I thought you guys were going to tip over for sure," he said. We stared at him. How did he miss the pure professionalism in our epic landing? I've decided to make Alejandro the villain-antagonist in my story. "Let's go get something to eat," I announced, returning my too-tight life jacket and medium-sized helmet while ignoring the tops of my sunburned feet, "I know a place that serves the BEST four dollar toast."
No comments:
Post a Comment