On the trail - August 28, 2011

“Summer's almost over.
Sad, isn't it?
Makes you want to...
I don't know...
Reach out and...
...hold it back.”


From the movie The Great Gatsby

Adventure can be found not only on the trail, but on the water as well. The following is a story from last year that I want to share with you:

I loaded the kayak onto the Jeep around noon and headed off to the lake (Horsetooth Reservoir). It was the last day of August. I had been kayaking all summer long and this was to be a sort of farewell to summer paddle. When I put in at the dock at the south end of the lake at South Bay, it was 12:40 pm.

There was a nice breeze blowing from the south and the lake was virtually empty of motor boat traffic. I decided to paddle into the middle of the lake and let the wind carry me where it may.

The sun was bright and warm and I was enjoying the day. Normally, I would paddle just enough to realize that I had to paddle just as far back. Today was different. Today I just felt like seeing how far to the north I could go.

After about 2 hours, I began to recognize the surroundings of the north end of the reservoir. Wow, that south wind must have really been pushing me. I was going to paddle all the way from the south end to the north end of the lake, cool.

Since I was tiring, my mind began to start to rationalize a minor detail; how was I going to get back to the south end of the lake?

I docked my kayak at Satanka Bay, the North end of Horsetooth, at 3:03 pm. I was alone. The sign said nobody works here on Mondays and Tuesdays. My mind was like...hey buddy, you just paddled the entire length of the lake with a stiff breeze at your back and it took you 2 hours and 23 minutes. How long do you think this is going to take going against the wind?

3:53 pm. I push away from the dock after exhausting all my options and tell myself that I need to pick small incremental goals and just not think about the task at hand. My shoulders are telling me that this is not going to be my idea of a good time.

I select targets on the horizon to aim for like: buoys, rock outcroppings, trees, and fishing boats and paddle on. I begin to think about having hot dogs and a beer when I am finished. By this time, I have begun to count my strokes to keep my mind off my pain. Counting to 100 seems to distract me and I press on.

The south end's familiar surroundings finally come into view and I am close to being done. At 6:02 pm it is over. Surprisingly, I make it back in 2 hours and 9 minutes.

I throw the kayak up on the Jeep and tie it down and am home by 6:45 pm.
Because of errands and other duties, I would not get those hot dogs and a beer I had been hallucinating about until well after 9:00 pm.
It is then that it begins to sink in that I had paddled the equivalent of a half marathon on this last day of August both with and against the summer wind.

And it is then that I realize with contentment:

“There'll be other summers.”

Also from the movie The Great Gatsby