I remained in the boat with my hands clamped between my thighs to warm them. Sitting there thinking, it came to me: Get the stove out of the boat and set it beside the rudder to warm your fingers while working. The second time, the frapping was tighter and the last bit of wire was jammed between the two strands of cable that made the U-turn. After a successful test, I was soon launching off the beach. The storm had passed, and I paddled into what had become a star-lit, windless night.
The lights of Sutcliffe were almost six miles away, and the longer I stared at them the more inviting they became. I heard gulls calling, and soon I was gliding through a loose flock of them as they rested on the placid water. There was more than a half moon illuminating the lake and I made the crossing very smoothly, paddling without pause. The contrast with what I’d been through and what it was like to cross in the same water, now absolutely calm, was a moving experience. It had been my purgatory, but I had not given up; it had become my paradise. I paddled across free of any feelings of anxiety.
Landing as close to my truck as I could, I left the kayak on the beach and ran up to the truck, stripped off my wet clothing, toweled off and put on a down ski jacket. I sat inside with the heater on full blast until I felt warm enough to get the kayak onto the rack and drive back to Reno to settle into my hotel. By midnight, I was soaking in a steaming-hot bath in my room.
The next day, I didn’t make it to the start of the ski race. When I arrived at the race course in Mammoth, my chest started hurting. After a fitful night, I drove home and collapsed on my bed. Pneumonia kept me close to it for the next month. All because I set out alone on an easy half-day lake trip using a kayak with worn-out rigging, wearing insufficient clothing and carrying minimal food and no repair kit, flashlight, flare, horn or emergency shelter. I went without telling anyone where I was going. All because I wasn’t really going kayaking—I was just stopping off at Pyramid Lake to relax and fill in a few hours of idle time.
Michael Jeneid is an avid kayaker, cross-country skier and birdwatcher living in Stinson Beach, California. He has been kayaking for more than 50 years and has written books about all his areas of interest. He is currently working on a new book about birdwatching by kayak. Visit Michael’s web site at: www.jeneidoutdoors.com. |
