“OK,” I breathed. “Follow my lead. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Left. Left. Left. Left. Awww, shit.”
Isabelle (one of the writers on #blogtripf1 and my new and amazing friend) and I had stuck together when we arrived to the Mediterranean Sea and were greeted with an array of kayaks, boards and catamarans.
And now, after alerting everyone we had to share a double seat kayak, we were stuck in the sea, paddling in circles. Plunging our oars in tune, out of tune, not at all, just to get to the island a kilometer away.
Despite our best efforts, we were not getting anywhere. Unless you count going to the left, left, left, then right, right, right.
It was frustrating. It was funny. You would think we could have paddled out to the island with little difficulty. Everyone else had made it look so easy, but nope.
There we were, just spinning around and around.
Had my dad been there, he would have laughed at his daughter trying to kayak. He has taken me before, in the Chesapeake Bay, but I apparently learned nothing about operating the large fiberglass boats of annoyance.
After 30 minutes of trying and quitting and trying again, Isabelle and I were towed to the island.
“We are not kayaking again,” we both agreed, strong-arming our way onto the catamarans for the next leg of our little boating adventure.
The catamaran ride was bliss compared to the kayaking. The wind in our faces, the gentle splashing of water coming up onto the boat. I loved it. It felt like a mini-vacation.
We spent a few minutes at another beach, and then once again, strong-armed our way onto the catamaran again.
This time, it was different.
Isabelle, Elisa (a sweet teen writer) and I jumped onto another catamaran and headed back to the dock.
We were about half way when the winds kicked up, sending water into our faces, soaking us. Around us, white caps crashed, sails bellowed.
Elisa’s hand gripped mine as we were attacked by water and wind.
“It is OK,” I said. “Nothing is going to happen.”
But, there we were, on this tiny little boat, a thin sheet of material separating us from the sea.
If we flip, we are close enough to swim to shore. We all have life jackets on. But, I really didn’t want to flip. Or fall off. Or anything other than walk off that boat.
We flirted dangerously with the rocks jutting from the dock while a group of staff ran into the water to steady our boat.
And, then we were out. Back on dry land.
“That is not normal,” one of the boaters said. “That wind came up from nowhere.”
Isabelle and I looked at each other and smiled.
Kayaking? Been there. Done that.