Blown Away in the Bay

I went kayaking the other morning and the bay was like glass. That’s the way I like it. I am not looking for a challenge. Dragging that two-person, 60-pound boat down to the shoreline is a challenge enough. It seems to weigh more this year than last.

I always do a thorough bug and snake check on it before casting off. I just know that one day I am going to be 500 yards offshore when a snake crawls out from some hidden space. It’s like I can see a vision of it happening. I am definitely going to panic, throw myself overboard and then figure out what to do while holding onto the side of the kayak. But I digress from the kayak story.

I paddled over to the big rock, which looks completely different when viewed from the water. It almost looked like someone toppled it over onto its side. It seems taller when viewed from
the shore (see photos).

Just as I made it to the rock, the winds kicked up and started blowing strongly from offshore. As a cyclist I know that it’s always best to plan a bike ride going into the wind on your way out, and having a tailwind on the way back, when you might start to tire. But the wind didn’t care about that theory. It was intent on pushing me nearly to the LIPA plant in Northport. I had to paddle strongly on one side only. It was like three strokes forward and two back.  A relaxing, tranquil outing had turned on a dime. The wind, or El Diablo, as I named it, was trying to tell me who’s boss.

The spot on the shore that I was aiming for never seemed to get closer, despite my mad,
constant paddling. At least if I died out here, I thought to myself, it will be with really buff-looking upper arms. I thought about George Clooney in The Perfect Storm. I think about George Clooney a lot anyway, even when I am not close to drowning.

Then about 200 yards off shore I looked down into the water and realized that it was so shallow I could have hopped out and walked it the rest of the way. But I didn’t. I paddled. Because that’s what George would have done.