My friend Carol was generous enough to invite us to spend time this winter at her house on Summerland Key, Florida. Being from NJ, oceans and waves go hand in hand, so the first time I visited the Keys, I was surprised that there were no waves. It almost seemed like her house was lakefront instead of ocean front. The water was calm and there was a slight breeze.
I’m going to take a short kayak ride” Carol said, “why don’t you come with me.” I shot her a doubtful look. I’ve never kayaked before. I peered over the edge of the dock trying to gauge the distance down to the kayak that was waiting for a rider. The idea of maneuvering myself down the ladder of her dock and stepping onto the floating kayak was laying the groundwork for an anxiety attack. I slowly sucked in some air and insisted that Carol go first. I wanted to watch how she boarded the boat that was bobbing in the water below. But I also wanted her down there ahead of me so she can help when I fell out of mine. There was no doubt in my mind that even if I managed to get into the boat, I was going to be in the water at some point, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that I’d be able to get back on in deep water! I watched as Carol climbed down the ladder and boarded her kayak without a problem. She paddled out of the way and pushed the second kayak into position and I started my decent.
As I reached the bottom rung of the ladder, I had to point my right foot and drag the kayak closer with my toes. I took a deep breath and started to lower myself down toward the seat while still trying to cling to the ladder. “You know, Carol, this would be much easier if you added another rung or two to the ladder”. With that said, my hand slipped off the bottom rung and I plopped onto the seat. The kayak responded with a quick shudder. I made a fast adjustment and the kayak proved to be more stable than I had expected.
It was then that I realized I was holding my breath the whole time in anticipation of what I thought would be an inevitable plunge into the water. We chose to kayak across the “flats” where the water was shallow and I’d be able to stand up and re-board after I flipped the boat, which I was still waiting for. We went about a half mile then turned around and came back. I made it to the dock feeling very proud of myself. Though this was never on my bucket list, I decided to add it, so that I could have something to check off!
It did not take a lot of cajoling to get me back in the kayak later that day. I actually enjoyed it and was feeling much more confident. So much so, that we stayed in the deep channel, and I removed my life vest for comfort. We were commenting on the various homes and gardens as we passed and were heading for the mangroves.
“There’s a whole school of fish that just raced past me” Carol called back to me. I glanced around me but saw nothing. As I put my paddle onto the water on the right side of my kayak, something hit hard on the left side, level with my thigh, and I felt the boat start to tip. I shifted my weight. As the left side of my brain told me to jump out of the boat before whatever it was landed in my lap, something big splashed down hard into the water.
“Was that you? Did you fall in?” Carol called back to me, as she heard the thump and splash.
But at that moment, the right brain screamed “NO! You’ll never get back in the boat and then you’ll be stuck in the water with it… and it may be a them!”
“BIG F-ING FISH!” I answered Carol. My right brain continued yelling at me for pushing my luck and taking another trip out...for removing my life vest... for forgetting that this was not a lake but an ocean that had sharks and barracudas and God only knows what else! I wondered at the whereabouts of the Portuguese man ‘o war we were looking at the morning before from the dock….
Carol manage to turn her kayak around and face me as the cold water from the splash rained down on me.
“BIG F-ING FISH!” I repeated-- relieved I was still in the boat and hadn’t listened to the left brain and thanking God that the fish arched left instead of right when it jumped. We both nearly rolled our kayaks from laughter. We paddled a little further before turning to go home, commenting that my big f-ing fish was probably the reason Carol saw all the smaller fish swimming so fast.
I’m sure the entire Summerland Key heard me, as sound amplifies across the water. I suppose I could have apologized for the language that escaped my lips, but at that point I didn’t care about anything but returning to land. The adrenaline rush got me back across the flats in half the time it took to go out. I kept looking back for Carol. She was trying to keep up, “you’re like a horse heading for the barn! she yelled laughing, commenting on my speed.
But there was nothing that would have distracted me from my focus point of that ladder on the dock! .
Before leaving the Keys, we met with another friend who lives there full time and kayaks quite often. She too laughed at my reaction, but also told us of an incident that occurred a few months earlier. A woman kayaking was speared in the back by a needle fish that jumped from the water and punctured her lung. Luckily, her fiancé was with her and had a cell phone to call for help.
I only saw a part of the fish that struck my boat and couldn’t identify it. I just know that it hit so hard it nearly tipped the boat and made a loud enough noise that Carol heard it - even though she was several yards ahead of me. The resulting splash rose above my head, and the part I did see was fat and meaty.
Yes, I went kayaking again with my husband that same afternoon. All things considered, it was a good time. I plan on buying a kayak for home to use on the lake or river next week. However, I may stick to the flats next time I’m in the keys and will probably keep the life vest on. No sense in tempting fate!
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