We launch our precious vessels
Each a distinct lovely sculpture
Like Oriental vases crafted as kayaks
We are a motley crew of gender and origin
United in the pursuit of joy and peace in paddling
Belgian, Canadian, American and Brit
A flotilla in search of the perfect day
On the right the unfolding vista of pulsating greens and blues of shoreline water against the dolomite cobbles and splendid cliffs
On the left the intimidation of nothing … but the timeless sea and the horizon
A scene fit for Robinson Crusoe?
We float along like bugs in pistachio shells
On water filled with memories of tribal war parties, voyageurs, schooners and steamers
And now our fibreglass and Kevlar “schooners” carrying cargo of escape fantasies?
Feeling like grand potentates trying to hold on to nature’s perfection
Paddling solo then chatting with others: for a moment I think it is a kayaker cocktail party
Then the rhythm of paddling and the roll of the sea brings me back to me
We stop for lunch at a headland
Pull our precious vessels carefully up on the rocky shore
Spread ourselves out on the white cobbles and assorted boulders
Nearby we gaze in amazement at water-smoothed gigantic boulders of sublime shapes
Like Henry Moore sculptures without the holes
I climb up one which had a natural seat sculpted just for me
I look out at my vast domain and silently declare myself King
King shit, headman, chief, Master of the realm
My minions cheer in indecipherable wave language
But I know what they were saying, “We love you, come back in, we just want to touch you”
So I do
Back on the water the west wind comes up
Funnelled against Lion’s Head
Though still feeling confident and strong as a beginning sea kayaker I admit to feeling like a bug in a pistachio shell
Then, signal of journey’s end
We reach the Lion’s Head escarpment
Where calls ring out from the cliffs
Rock climbers like spiders suspended by threads are shouting back and forth in their own search for the perfect day
Provide a frame for this perfect paddling day
Dennis Niedbala, 22 Aug 01