The ‘$#1t happens’ post

Been trying to keep politics outta the mix (for the most part; hard to keep it all the way out since this blog is my catharsis)And a lot of my posting is about kayaks, kayaking, and what not, so I know some of my readers are starting to glare at me, waiting for all inputs to gel up and create one of my random word explosions.

Well, that ain’t this post; sorry to disappoint.

I am gonna talk about something only peripherally related to kayaking this go’round.

Last weekend, I hooked up with B to sell him a kayak and do some rolling practice (which he did do, later, but I opted out,,, maybe shouldn’t have done that, as I’ll get to shortly.)

We met up spent a few minutes talking and hauled the big red perception to the shore. Serena was already in water as I had been there for an hour or so. This is a wide open spot with nice shallow slopes into the water and is a fave place for waders and swimmers. Low wake even with there being a boat ramp, as its almost a bay with a finger of land covering 2/3rds its width.

We were getting B in the red boat as his skirt was a touch tight and he needed help getting it on when a family group up the beach from us suddenly started hollering.

B looks at me and asks “you got your phone? Call 9-11! ” and he launches out of that boat like a rocket headed up shore. I see a big man down at the waters edge and start the call,,,

B and another man worked on the victim for 20 minutes while I spent the same time on the phone with EMS/911 trying to direct them to us. They arrived and we spent the next hour answering questions, getting B calmed down, and dwelling on what had happened.

The victim was a goner before B made it to him IMO, but damned if B didnt give it hell trying.

Well, it bugged me. It bugged me bad. It bugged me enough that my water time has been overly cautious, and even a little nerve wracking. I haven’t been practicing my hip flick in my skin boats unless there is someone, anyone(!) within 10 yards of me. This is counterproductive to learning to roll, which is a solo recovery.

What’s bothering me the most is that this is NOT the first time I have been around death, but the scenario hit me differently. I really should have ‘gotten back on that horse’ that very afternoon, because now, I am re-fighting a fear I had pushed aside. I’ve also noted that I need way more time on rough water to keep my muscle memory up. Hard to do when its an hours drive to get to water that isn’t glass smooth and I have that whole ‘day job’ monkey on my back.

It also doesn’t help that I am running smack dab into that other problem of finding others locally that I can get out with.

B lives 2 hours away. C lives almost three but isn’t into fast or rough water anyway. L lives near B and has a lot on her plate and very little time. D lives three hours and a timezone away.

Locally, its fishhooks and 420 and ‘you can hang that crazy skinny boat shit!’, so no trad-kayak love here,,,,

Anywhooz, I’m just doing a little venting and airing out my own thinking to isolate my inner turmoil.

I’ll get it down yet because I do not want to be that victim. Its a hurdle right now, I just need to turn it into the spur of encouragement.