SunDog Journal

As thunder rolls across the waters, I take beer in hand…oops, I mean pen in hand and begin…

Being new to the world, I open my eyes and begin to think, to wonder and want to wander. I see what is there, perhaps as no one else will ever see it (or may even want to). It is mine alone.  A dreamscape of color, motion, sound, nostril tingling  perfumes and emotion filling me.  I must begin the journey of a thousand miles with the first stroke of the paddle.

Life on the water began after a military stint in the 60’s-70’s. A spring discharge found me buying a Grumman 17 foot double-end standard weight canoe, three paddles, a number three Duluth pack, tent, sleeping bag, cooking and eating utensils, a number two Hudson Bay axe, compass and a map. The year was 1972, April, and since then thousands of miles on many waters have passed beneath the aluminum hull of that Grumman. Her first ding was off a boulder heading north through rapids, my younger brother at the bow. We almost wound around that boulder, but the current caught us and dragged us past. The ding is still there, a vivid reminder that  “only fools and white men run rapids”.

Three years ago, an accident while working as a carpenter messed up my back. Now, according to Dr’s orders, I can get back to living. Somewhat. No heavy lifting, no real twisting and turning, no skiing or jumping off anything. Just go live a useful, practical life.

Yup.

As an adventurous type, it’s senseless and despiriting to live caged, not allowed to roam or fly with the eagles. Lifting the canoe is out: 75 pounds is too much strain on injured joints and with muscles weakened after three year’s idleness.

A song is sung, a voice whispers and the sigh of her rippling bosom beckons me come, adorn her breast with the dip and ripples and rhythmic stroke of my blade.

As I emptied my wallet while paying for the Grumman, my eyes kept straying to the sleek, slender lines of the kayaks laying about and adorning the walls of the shop. Many times I had wondered what my life would have been had I bought one of them rather than the canoe.  Now, standing in a store, I was about to answer that querry. But the wallet is even more thin now than 36 years ago.  Still…

It isn’t much, even to my untrained eye, but it is a kayak. Twelve feet long; 28 inches wide; cushioned chair for a seat (Wow! what a difference from the Grumman!); yellow and orange and red in Sunrise colors and a plastic hull. Recycled, I think.

As I off-loaded, gently set its plastic hull on water for the first time, my knees wobbling and feet stumbling a little, I spilt coffee on the stern, said, “I Christen thee SunDog; may you float long and vigorously, never fearing the water to which you belong.”

Several hours of gentle paddling later, he has come to know me a little, and I him.  He doesn’t track as well as his sister Grummy,  but he is more responsive in turns.  Too, being so long in a canoe, it seems awkward to be sitting so low, hands scraping the gun’ls with each stroke. The extended leg position feels comfy, but there must be changes made there: hip flexors ached, knees needed tensioning…adjust the footpegs, find their comfortable position or vary it occasionally. Looking over the bow is reminiscent of the Grumman I dearly love. The canoe-like appearance of the Old Town Loon was a major factor in selecting it.

Ride ended for the day, rotator cuff and bicep- both torn in the accident- aching, time to rest and head home. So much thought needs to go into this new process: old ‘things’ won’t work here so there will be quite a few visits to the store as the outfit shapes up. New packs and packing methods, especially. Somewhere there has to be room for the camera(s). If not, then nothing is going to leave the yard. Yet the day is new, life begins anew each rising sun and setting moon and there will be room for one more paddle, one more campsite, somewhere.

JSW/SunDog

This entry was posted on Friday, June 27th, 2008 at 4:36 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.