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June, 2006
Going where the water takes me
By Tanya Mitchell
Having lived in Maine all of my life, I'm no stranger to the water.
I spent many summers as a youth at a campsite located just off The Golden Road up in paper company territory known as Snake Camp (a place my family simply referred to as "Up North"). Because a branch of the Penobscot River wound through the campsite, it was an everyday thing to hop in the ole Discovery with my brother or cousins and paddle off to wherever we felt like going. It was also the norm that we would all return drenched, as someone always thought it would be fun to dump it halfway through the excursion (Seriously. Every time, man).
Now, as a busy grown-up, I've always tried to make time for the occasional canoe trip down The Goose River, around Swan Lake or other locations that are close to home. You know, near enough so "getting there" does not make for half the trip, but secluded enough to make me feel at home - or, at camp - again.
Shortly after obtaining the Associate Editor's position with No Umbrella this year (about which I am totally stoked, by the way), I got my first chance to get out on the water this year. Only this time, I would be sea kayaking.
When No Umbrella Publisher Nick Callanan initially pitched the invitation to join himself and Maine Sea Kayak Guide Karyn Roy for an afternoon of paddling around Belfast Harbor, I thought, "Oh yeah, I've done a little of that before."
Well, after just about 10 minutes of being in the kayak, I learned "a little of that" meant damn little. This is because the only other exposure I have ever had to a kayak was on Patten Pond in Surry about three years ago, when my friend Scott hopped in one of the two rec. kayaks he had sitting on the shore, tossed me a paddle and said "Here, it's just like paddling a canoe. You'll be fine." Long story short, I was fine, but my arms were killing me. Until my experience with Nick and Karyn, I just thought the sensation that your arms were going to burst into flames came with the territory, and that I should just suck it up and be a man - ahem, woman - about it.
It is here that I (as well as my arms) would like to extend a huge thank you to Karyn for showing me that paddling does not have to hurt, and but for the fact that I was doing it all wrong, it wouldn't have.
At first I felt pretty good out there, after being comfortably fitted to the inside of the kayak with Karyn's guidance. It was even more encouraging once I got a feel for navigating the craft through the use of a rudder that was operated by a set of foot pedals (another first for this kayaking virgin). I was also pleasantly surprised that the skirt did not trigger any feelings of claustrophobia or immobility, which was a misguided fear I had always harbored about the use of that type of gear.
I was keeping up a fine pace, although it didn't take long for my mind to wander back to that day on Patten Pond with my well-meaning but uneducated friend. This is largely because I was still using paddling tactics that typically set a canoe in motion (you know, throwing in a few powerful strokes on either side, depending on which direction you wished to head in). All of this while using a double-blade paddle.
I must have looked positively ridiculous, but then, who doesn't look a little ridiculous when they're trying to learn the proper way to do something?
Anyway, it was at that time that Karyn nonchalantly asked me how my arms were holding up.
"Not bad," I replied. "But they're starting to get a little sore."
After Karyn explained how kayakers alternate their strokes from the left side to the right, using the muscles in the torso to propel forward while keeping the elbows stationery in the process. If you're right-handed, like myself, the right hand should have a firm grip on the paddle while the left hand should create a type of loop with the thumb and forefinger to allow for smoother motion (and, I suspect, to avoid sprouting a painful blister from the friction). Karyn offered me some further explanation that I found especially helpful, which was to picture yourself holding a beach ball within the "box" of your arms and the paddle.
Once I got the hang of that, I was totally styling, and aside from a few minor collisions with my kayaking companions, I had such an excellent afternoon. I even ended up on the right side of a few of the waves that the tide was bringing into the harbor, which allowed me to surf them for a bit (very cool).
Judging by the huge grin I had painted on my face for the entire journey (something that Nick was quick to point out), I think now I have to make time in my life for kayaking as well.
Many years have passed since my summers at Snake Camp, and the river has since widened, eroding away the place where many of my childhood memories were made. While there is much truth to the old adage that says you can't go home (or in my case, to camp) again, I know can always take part in the outdoor and water-related interests that I had grown to love through those experiences.
I now see sea kayaking as a new opportunity to return to my roots, as whether I'm in a canoe or a sea kayak, I'm still taking the time to go wherever the water takes me.
Based in Searsport, Tanya Mitchell is No Umbrella's Associate Editor. When she is not kayaking or writing, she is hanging with her son, Shane. Reach her at tanya@noumbrella.com
Email nick [at] noumbrella [dot] com with your questions, comments and concerns.
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