When I got back from our Florida Spring Break trip I knew it was time to start canoeing. I felt a little guilty that I found time to take a wave runner a mile offshore of Fort Myers Beach with my children but didn't find time to kayak the backwaters. Either the weather didn't cooperate or the kayaks weren't available each time I tried. Back in Michigan the only challenge was whether or not I could get my Mad River Adventurer on top of my Highlander by myself.
After adjusting the car top carrier so that it was hanging six inches past the driver's side on my monster 78 inch Thule bars, I attached the canoe brackets. I had a new found vigor as I crawled all over my car to make the adjustments. Last summer I was exhausted just thinking about putting the canoe up top. After everything was just right it was time to see if I could hoist the 75 pound polyethylene boat over my shoulders and on to the car. I situated the bow behind my car then turned and lifted it over my head. With me squarely underneath in the middle of the boat, I tossed the bow on top and slid the canoe forward until it is over the hood. Wow! I couldn't believe it. Being able to load my own boat makes the idea of canoeing a delightful anticipation. Roxanne, "thank you." I owe this ability to my trainer who has been working my core since January.
Who is Roxanne you might ask? I know early on I used the pseudonym Vicky. That was because I was anticipating a love-hate relationship with my trainer. She would push me and I would hate it and then with any luck I would love the results. After five months of training I am happy to report it is just pure love. I love that I can get my boat on my car. I encourage anyone in the East Lansing area who would like to get in shape to hook-up with Roxanne at the Hannah Community Center.
After I secure the boat I drive over to Summit Sports so that the fellows there can check my work. Last year I used foam feet and the luggage rack of our Minivan to carry the canoe. The banging on the roof as the boat bounced along as we headed north drove Andria crazy. As she sat in the passanger side I could tell she was just waiting for the canoe to fly off the roof and cause catastrophe on the freeway. The reason I could tell this is because she wouldn't stop sharing her fear - "I don't like this, it is going to fly off. Does that sound right? I don't think so. Maybe we should pull over and check. Yep, pull over." The boat never did move more than a few inches, but to make sure I had the Thule figured out I thought it wouldn't hurt to have the experts confirm it.
From Summit I travel a few miles over to Lake Lansing for my inaugural trip. There will be a lot of flat water on the Grand River because of a number of dams. Flat water is when my nice free flowing river that will be carrying to Lake Michigan turns into a lake. This is where I will have to rely on my core training and whomever paddles with me to help me not fall too far behind.
It is a beautiful 70 degree day and there are a number of people out at the boat launch enjoying it. With pride I expertly remove the canoe and place it at the waters edge next to the dock. I pull my Highlander into the parking lot and place my Blackberry, wallet and keys into my dry bag and head toward the water. Now the day is beautiful but there is a strong wind out of the southwest putting a two foot chop on the water. But, I know I have a sturdy boat and heck, I already have it off my car ready to go. I pull the boat into the water and from the dock I carefully put my hand on the left gunwale. As I do this the boat starts drifting away from the dock due to the strong breeze. I quickly pull my body into the canoe. As I do this, the momentum created by the thrust of my 220 pounds from the dock launches me over the canoe and into the lake. The water is cold.
Undaunted, I right the canoe and pull it onto the ramp. I am expecting to see some smiling faces and hear some laughter, but I all see is concern. Apparently watching a fat man in a little boat go for a swim isn't as funny to them as it was to me. I laughed through my chagrin. With my pride in check I assure anyone who is listening that I'm ok. A fellow comes over and helps me lift the flipped canoe up to get the water out. I thank him.
I imagine what is going through the onlooker's minds as I right the canoe and once again slide it into the lake next to the dock. "Is he out of his mind?" "Florence, are you getting this on your IPhone?" "I bet he does it again." "Shouldn't he get a bigger boat?" The weather was warm and I was determined to get on the water. In a few short months I would be canoeing 225 miles. I needed to see what I could do.
With the canoe aside the dock again, I grabbed the left gunwale and in a much quicker and more fluid move I sit down in the middle seat of the Adventurer. The boat sways but holds. I paddle out past the dock and am met by the southwest wind which immediately sends my bow to port wanting to push me across the lake. I again put my core training to work as I paddle wide and strong to my port side to point the bow into the wind. I stroke hard through the white caps and set a course to the west side of the lake in the direction of the wind. I figure that if I get fatigued I can ride the wind back to shore and hopefully land near the dock. This turned out to be a challenge as the gusts are such that waves smash the bow and spray kisses my face. It is a challenge that ignites the adrenaline that had long been dormant in my dialysis body. It is the feeling that I have to master this or I will be in deep doo doo, er water.
After getting half way across the lake I realize that I was spent and had to get back in time to pick up Antonia at school. "Oh, oh time to bring it around." Remember the season two closing of Hawaii Five-O when the credits roll over an outrigger canoe as it is madly paddled ahead of the waves? To anyone looking on I'm sure my actions didn't elicit that memory, but for me in the boat, the theme song tracks in my mind. I grasp the handle and paddle like crazy to make sure I stay on top of the waves and get back to shore in time. The shoreline comes upon me quickly and I have to deftly maneuver the the Adventurer so that I don't overshoot the dock and then have to drag the boat back upshore to the car. Redemption. I glide the boat so that despite the wind the right gunwale synches up nicely to the wooden dock. I not too glamorously extract my tired self on to the dock by placing my hands on the wooden slats and hoisting my body upon it not unlike a sea lion at San Francisco's Pier 39.
I had completed my inaugural training run. I felt good. Tired, but good. I excepted it when a man sunning himself on a bench offered to help me put the boat on. I knew theoretically I could but wasn't sure at this point and was in a hurry. I Thanked him and tied it down. It took twenty minutes to get across town to Antonia's school. I had thought to bring a t-shirt to change into in case I was sweaty. It hadn't occurred to me to bring a change of shorts and underwear too. I was rusty. Back when I canoed regularly I always had a spare change of clothes packed in a dry bag onboard. Note to self.
I get to Antonia's school just as they are letting out. As I step out of the Highlander, a little soggy, I swagger to the school with the silent satisfaction that I had challenged my abilities. This was something I use to thrive on, whether it was skiing, biking, canoeing, hiking, I loved taking it to the limit. My limit as a 44 year old dad on dialysis is a bit more limited but the feeling of reaching it is the same - gratification. As usual, Antonia crosses the street with the crossing guard and jumps into my arms with a delightfully loud, "Daddy!" I smile and give her a squeeze. Life is good on dialysis.
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