Backwards as Forwards

K-a-y-a-k. Who would think that such a little word could have such a big effect? ‘Kayak’ is one of the only words in the English language that is spelt the same forwards and backwards. Just as the word can be used backwards or forwards, so can a kayak (however unintentional the “backwards” might be). This sport might be one of the most stressful ever created by mankind.

Allow me elaborate with a story (Disclaimer: Hyperboles and sarcasm were used freely wherever thought possible). My small yellow boat slipped into the water with the elegance of a crippled cow. I peered down at my hand to once again read the instructions on how to paddle without ending up-side down. Much to my dismay, the instructions were no longer legible; all that remained was a long line of ink running from fingertip to shoulder. Who would have thought water could be so destructive? Slowly I paddled downstream; at least I think it was downstream, and watched the sun go down. Kayakers in the distance pushed their own boats forward with graceful strokes, slowly moving towards the horizon. Of course, my enjoyment of the scenery was short lived as I came to realize that, one, it was now dark, and two, I was now alone; very alone; or as alone as one can be when surrounded by beavers, mosquitoes, bears, and elk. Once again I proceeded forward (keep in mind that the bow and stern of a whitewater kayak are pretty much identical, making the direction one is going very hard to distinguish), humming show tunes in an attempt to distract myself from the falls looming in front of me. The falls were approaching quite quickly at this point, but I was not worried. Now that they were closer, perhaps I was a little skittish. Come to think of it, if someone had handed me a dictionary right then and there, ‘terror’ would have been the word I would have looked up. I can handle this, I thought to myself. So with a straight back, tight skirt, oxygen in my lungs, and a spring in my boat I continued onward. Closing my eyes, I paddled forward with all of my might. When I opened them, I was again on flat water. Peering back over my shoulder, I screamed with joy realizing that not only had I made it through, but done so without flipping! At that moment, my boat hit a small boil, sending me flailing sideways. Oh, how embarrassing to make it through a class II only to flip on nearly inert water! Of course, all of these thoughts are running through my mind as I am suspended underwater, attempting to reread the instructions on my arm. What does that say? Should I roll? Wet-exit? Breathe? The world looked so much more serene as I hit the surface and proceed to fill my lungs with the essential life sustaining gas. Swimming to shore, I gazed at the long flowing river. However, this time it carried my little yellow boat downstream, mocking me as it bobbed up and down in the waves.

Thinking back on my kayaking career I could not decide whether it was beneficial or not. Yes, I learned a lot, and yes, I was certainly challenged. But was it worth the pain, the embarrassment, the wetness? On the other hand, how else would I have learned the true value of life (or rather, oxygen)? Excuse me a moment, I think I see something yellow downriver.