Funny things happen to me. Some time ago my wife and I were invited to visit some dear friends in Michigan. Steve & Stacey had recently moved into a lovely farmhouse out in the woods of the Wolverine State. The thrilling activities we enjoyed on our visit included what I will call a wild and dangerous kayaking adventure.
I should interject a word of explanation here. I am not a water person, primarily because of my poor swimming skills. I did pass the Boy Scout swim test on Catalina Island years ago, but this was only due to the negligence and apathy of the adolescent swim monitor who, while picking at a scab on his injured knee, failed to fully track my progress. I swam 20 yards, everyone else swam 100. To compensate for my lack of aquatic skills, I am vigilant with regards to wearing a suitable floatation device when on the water. I always wear a life vest.
The morning of our kayak adventure, I was nervous. The peaceful little river that we were to navigate looked angry. It had recently rained, and the river was high and moving fast. As we prepared to depart, I slipped on my vest. My kayak looked small to me, like a little floating coffin, with minimal leg room. At 6’ 3”
and 205 pounds I barely fit in the thing. This was my first time in a kayak.
Since I planned on being the slowest, my kayak entered the water last. Our friends and my wife were in front.
As we knifed through the water, my heart was pounding. The river and surrounding woods were beautiful. If it hadn’t been for an impending sense of doom, the journey would have been most enjoyable. But I was stressed. I did receive shouted instructions from my comrades as I repeatedly slammed into the weed covered bank or hit floating objects. In spite of my bruises and bloody forearms, all was good until the last leg of our trip.
After making it through what appeared to be perilous rapids, I noticed ahead a large log partially blocking our way. The others had successfully navigated around this obstacle and now it was my turn. The current swiftly carried me towards the log, and I instinctively braced for impact. Crashing and losing my balance, I rolled over. Now upside down and underwater, I attempted to kick free, but I couldn’t move my legs. I was jammed in that junior sized kayak pretty good. My first thought was that this was a pretty embarrassing way to die. I began to hope that in my struggle I might invite the attention of a venomous snake. Death by snakebite would be a bit more glamorous. No such luck.
I began to pray and continued to wiggle and kick. Before run- ning out of air, I finally broke free and bobbed to the surface. My frantic wife was relieved to see that I was still alive. She waved a warm friendly greeting at me and rejoined our friends as I struggled to swim to shore. With a shouted assurance that they would come pick me up, in a moment they were gone down the river. As I sat on the bank, I realized that I had lost my favorite Texas Rangers ball cap. And I was missing one shoe (a white Addidas – size 12 – one half of my favorite pair).
After a brief rest, and hearing traffic ahead through the trees, I began slowly moving towards civilization. With my life vest still on, I limped along wearing only one shoe. This was embarrassing.
Soon I passed a nearby house and an elderly man mowing his front yard. He was kind enough to let me use his phone (my phone was left behind for fear of getting it wet). My wife did not answer. Thanking the man, I moved on and loitered on the side of the road some distance away. I looked suspect. As people drove by, most slowed and just stared at the disheveled man with one shoe. At one point, an older couple stopped and enquired as to my situation. I explained my dilemma (kayak novice, hit a log, dumped in the river, almost drowned, friends left me). They casually laughed, rolled up their window, and drove away.
As the sun began to fade, I started to doubt my rescue. A local elementary school had let out for the day. As the school buses rolled by, I could see small children, their noses pressed against the glass windows, watching me.
Seated on the side of the road, I waited and studied every vehicle that passed. Finally, after what seemed like hours, I saw what appeared to be a familiar car approaching fast. My wife Martina and her friend Stacey were barreling down the road at high speed. I assumed they would be scanning each side of the road in a de- termined effort to find me, but no such luck. As I stepped out into the road, frantically waving my arms, they both appeared to be in deep conversation, oblivious to their surroundings. As they sped past, I was close enough to touch their fender. I ran to the middle of the road, waving both arms as I peppered the air with profanity. The girls quickly disappeared around the next curve and were gone. I couldn’t believe it! Just then, I heard a horn and turned to see Steve. He had been following the girls in his truck, and evidently possessed greater situational awareness. As I climbed into the front seat, we both started laughing and could not stop.
I left Michigan minus a shoe, but with a good story. This still makes me laugh.
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