Well, life seems to be settling down a little bit, so I will hopefully be able to get back to normal blog posts again.  Look for some this next week!  Until then, here is a Memorial Day memory from two years ago that you may enjoy…

“Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip,
That started from a Northern port,
Aboard two tiny ships.”

Andrew and I decided to go kayaking on Monday afternoon.  We had a pleasant drive to Cold Spring Harbor, and set out in the kayaks about 1:30pm.  It was about 78 degrees, gorgeous, and there was no wind.  About 200 feet from shore a boat’s wake caught me and the kayak went over (first time ever), but I was able to climb back aboard without too much trouble (gotta love the sit-on-top kayaks).  For some reason I had the car keys in my pocket with the chapstick, instead of in the waterproof pouch with the wallet and the phone.  Chapstick lost, keys safe.

I scheduled the journey so that we would go out as the tide was beginning to come in, thereby making the trip back more pleasant.  It was a hard paddle, but we went about 4 miles in an hour and twenty minutes, and almost made it to the point where we would have officially entered Long Island Sound territory.

Andrew wanted to go a little further, but, since the wind was beginning to pick up, I decided we should turn around.  Now we were going with the tide, but the paddling was especially difficult in the face of the waves and wind we were coming against.  We struggled, and an hour and twenty minutes later we were about halfway back.  At this point Andrew was really tired, sore, and he had to go to the bathroom.  Being a
civilized child he wanted to get to shore to take care of his business, so I prayed that the wind would stop.  Andrew started to worry about me
then, because I was giggling hysterically.  The minute I prayed, the wind started blowing harder and had gusts up to 45mph (I know, because when I got back to shore I called a friend and had him look it up).  We were going nowhere!

We turned to shore, and, after a struggle, made it!  After taking care of business, we decided to try to portage the kayaks along the shore.  Unfortunately, the Northern Shore of Long Island is very rocky, and difficult to traverse.  We tried to walk in the water and float the kayaks in front of us, but that was treacherous too.  The rocks were slippery, some were very large, and the agitation of the water made it difficult to see where you were going.  After I stumbled into a small boulder and cut up my leg and foot, we went back to the shore and struggled along until we got to a breakwall and a cliff.  There was nothing left to do but get back in the kayak and take to the water again.

Lest I forget, we had witty repartee all during the journey.  Things like, “If I die, tell your mom that I love her.”  And, “Dad, I can’t make it, just leave me here and go on without me.”  And my personal favorite: “Son, don’t worry,  If we collapse, I’ll use the blood from my leg to leave a message on the kayak, and people will know how we died.”

We did finally struggle along the breakwall, through two piers, and landed at a private yacht club.  At this point we could see where we had parked and entered the bay!  We walked the kayaks through the club (One nicely dressed young man who worked there did come over and ask, “Can I help you?” meaning, “What are you doing here?”  Make up your own reply.)  I abandoned Andrew at the side of the road, walked the last mile to the car, and the journey was over.

I sure hope that Andrew makes it home soon…

Anyway, not quite a “three hour tour,” but a four hour adventure.  6 miles by sea, and 2 by land.  It was actually kind of fun, but I don’t think that we want to repeat it anytime soon!

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