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Community Corner

Paddling My Way to Sanity

Into This Tranquil, Bucolic Scene, a Shower of Golfballs

A while back I wrote a column about how hard it is to squeeze in “me” time as a busy parent.  I got so much feedback from other parents about that article that I couldn’t resist sharing my latest attempt to temporarily cast off the responsibilities of motherhood and spend just a couple of hours being Michelle, not Mom.  For this adventure, I decided to finally give kayaking a try.

I’ve always wanted try kayaking. I love the water, and I could picture myself cutting through water that was as smooth as glass, while birds that would cause Roger Tory Peterson to gasp in amazement wheeled in the sky overhead.

But it was another type of bird that kept me from kayaking – I was too chicken. I had visions of not being able to successfully get in or get out of the cockpit. I had no trouble whatsoever picturing myself flipping over and hanging upside down, unable to get out of the kayak while rogue fish ate my face off.  In short, my fears ranged from abject humiliation to slow and painful death.

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After a week spent dealing with the trials and tribulations of twin teens that left me feeling like I was in the middle of a vast plain with a bulls-eye painted on me, being pelted with golf balls, I decided that it was time to throw caution to the wind and give kayaking a try. I am lucky enough that my friend Nancy lives right on Poquetanuck Cove, has two kayaks and enough patience to not drown me if I started flailing around like a wounded duck.

Right from the start I loved kayaking. Getting in wasn’t that hard. I didn’t flip over, or even get wet. It was beautiful and peaceful and if I didn’t see a bonanza of birds, I did see a cormorant land in the water and a heron flying by that looked positively prehistoric. I caught on to paddling fairly quickly, and it gave me such a wonderful feeling of accomplishment.

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Best of all, I couldn’t bring my iPhone. That’s right, I was off the grid.

Just as I was starting to really get the hang of paddling, and this wonderful feeling of relaxation was settling over me, there was a loud plop as something landed in the water next to my kayak. And then another. As I was trying to figure out if this was some kind of crazy fish activity, my friend Nancy yelled, “Watch out!”  I looked around and spotted them – a pack of teenage boys at the Tuckerbung Club hitting golf balls – at us!

My friend Nancy paddled over to them like a female version of Lloyd Bridges in Sea Hunt and demanded to see a parent, as I practiced my fledgling evasive kayak maneuvers.  

Despite the excitement (and irony) of becoming a moving target to a bunch of teens, I have found a new hobby. I love kayaking! I’ve gone a couple of times now and I am shopping around for my own kayak. 

And I’m thinking if I can do this, what’s next? Whitewater?  Skydiving? A tattoo!?

Mid-life crisis, here I come.

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