BP's Got Nothing On Me!

Let's hope Door County FEMA doesn't find out!

Ok, so it wasn't the fabled "three-hour tour" of Gilligan's Island fame, but it was darned close to it...with results almost as disastrous. This adventure is one of those things that was a pleasant Sunday cruise for some of us, and the"afternoon-I'd-rather-forget" for me. Still, looking back, it was in keeping with our spirit of adventure.
We've shared great adventures with our friends: we've ridden elephants through a trackless jungle in Thailand; we've kayaked down some unknown river with guides who knew only one English exclamation: "Jesus Christ!" (uttered by one of us when we "parked" under a tree along the river so the guide could poke an oar at a snake lying on a branch overhead); we've dared to ride the motos in Cambodia and gone searching for cashews in tuk-tuks in which no one spoke English (unescorted by husbands); and we've dared to try to walk UP Lombard Street in San Francisco, a place where even Steve McQueen in Bullitt feared to tread. So, we are a hardy group, and I would like to think that I am among the hardiest...but now, my secret is out. I'm prone to motion sickness as evidenced by our latest adventure.
On a beautiful Sunday morning/afternoon, the plan involved embarking on a scenic Kayak trip along the coastline of Door County to take in the famed Cana Island lighthouse. We'd driven there years ago but wanted a new perspective.
The water at the boat landing was a little choppy: what marine forecasters like to call "1-3 foot waves." Assured that having a skirt and fortitude this would be a pleasant paddle, we slipped into Lake Michigan and worked out into deeper water. It was picturesque, to say the least, and in roughly (so to speak) half an hour, we were bobbing serenely up and down just offshore of the lighthouse. While the others had skirted the shallow-water breakers, I relished the adventure and paddled through some white water waves...and loved it, proud of my explorer-like derring-do. The return trip, however, left much to be desired, both physical, mental and cherry crisp morsels.
I noticed several things immediately:
1. someone had moved our starting spot about five miles away.
2. the wind had become far more brisk...and it was in our faces.
3. waves were breaking over the bow of my kayak which meant I was going to be both wet AND cold, despite the skirt designed to keep out water.
4. The interior ligaments in both elbows were suffering mightily under the strain.
5. The others in the group were taking the longer but less wavy way back.
Undaunted, I managed a fairly structured stroke rhythm, counting each side to keep it steady; however, going was mighty slow. It seemed as if the objects on shore were moving away from me so that I was actually going backwards.
Glancing over my shoulder at my paddling partners, I would occasionally see a flash of oar though the bodies and the kayaks were disappearing in the swells...definitely not a good sign. Doggedly, I paddled onward, ligaments screaming, crotch shivering. and hamstrings coming unstrung while my lower legs had simply begun to tingle as the circulation slowed to a stop.
At last I reached the point at which I could get into the inlet from where we had begun...just in time to feel that first rumble of cherry crisp coming up. I fought it for as long as I could, but you know that feeling that says, "it's going to happen...might as well get it over with"? Yup. Not once, not twice, but four times the pristine waters of Lake Michigan (poetic license) became the repository for some of the best cherry crisp at the Jacksonport bakery. Of course, I couldn't lean over without capsizing the kayak, so...well, I'll spare you those gory details. Needless to say, it was not only I who got the shower when we got back.
Eventually, everyone returned, eager to go have lunch and discuss the great adventure. Me? not so much. I even fell into the water while disembarking from the kayak since there was no feeling in my lower body. Fortunately, nobody was around to see me floundering like, well, a flounder.
The aura of toughness gone, the shame is almost too much to bear, but it's all good because it only adds to the legacy of our adventure travels.
More fun to come!