One Man, One Woman, One Kayak

Taken backwards over my head.

The sky was grey and misty; the sea a silvery smooth mirror broken only occasionally by black ripples ruffling across the surface. I didn't want to try rowing anything, bobbly-headed as I am, but peer pressure forced me to succumb and I crawled into the thing, horse-style or whatever they called the ungainly process of sitting on your butt on the edge of the boat and then swinging into the kayak. Once inside and seated, there was a lot of adjusting of foot rests, essentials for pushing against as one paddles; making sure gloves are on tight; hats tied under chins. The patient sports people on the big boat, the second mate and the engineer must have felt like they were getting six year olds ready for school.

I thought we'd make fools of ourselves yelling at each other and blaming each other for mistakes, like most married people experience when trying to put up a tent or make a bed or....teach each other to drive. The Princess Louisa sound was dead quiet and I could just imagine myself or Richard saying WTF? to each other as we rowed in circles or overturned ourselves. And our 15 fellow passengers viewing the scene with pity. But no, it went smoothly - the rowing and the cooperation. At first, I didn't row at all and left it to Richard to have control. After a while, I found I could dip in concert with him, or that he could adjust his rowing pace to mine. We skimmed around like a couple of pros. I wish we'd done it for longer; we should have stayed out to the last moment and taken full advantage of the wonderful situation. Next time!