Saying yes to adventure floats my boat

It’s weird being single. Between dating and marriage, I’d been with My Favourite Husband (MFH) for half my life. The world was a lot different the last time I was single. Back in the 1990s. Holy cow.

I’m different. I’ve written about it, talked about it, lived it. So many years later, a lifetime of experiences later and there are many differences in me that make me unrecognizable. And yet, parts of the girl I was before marriage have resurfaced — albeit in a way that reflects and honours the life I’ve lived.

A prime example is my “say yes” motto. Say yes to a new adventure, say yes to me and what I want. Say yes to colouring outside the lines and taking a leap. Say yes to nesting at home when my body and mind need it. 

I love that I said yes many years ago to adventures I should (and, let’s face it, shouldn’t) have said yes to. Even if the adventure took an interesting turn not for the best, I still did it. I still tried. I still learned. 

With that in mind, I said yes to a really good friend who’s been wanting me to try kayaking for the past two summers. With both of us being shift workers, timing is tricky. Then you add in weather, other commitments and it becomes close to impossible to figure out a time and place to introduce me to this activity.

This year, though, we outwitted Mother Nature and, with the last beautiful day of summer in hand, went out to a lake to play.

My friend is a hardcore kayaker. She owns four boats, has heavy-duty racks on her truck and a Ihydralauic lift to put those kayaks on her vehicle. She has all the appropriate gear. She has been doing this for years and her collection has grown with time.

All of this meant the loading of kayaks and gear was a breeze. In fact, besides a change of clothes, my job was to help load and provide snacks. I’m an awesome snack chick, so it worked out really well for me.

Our adventure was to take place on a quiet, secluded lake about an hour out of town. No motorized water craft are allowed on the lake and, as a result, there’s a plethora of wildlife that might be spotted along the shores. 

We arrived to the lake to find it busier than my friend expected but still quieter than other bigger lakes might be.

Unloading the kayaks was easy, as was setting them up with safety equipment. Putting mine in the water was a snap. Getting in proved to be a challenge; a comedic struggle between me and the mud my shoes kept sinking in. It didn’t take long to ditch the shoes and fling my self in — ass on seat, legs in air — and with a heave-ho, I was pushed off the shore. I managed to get all of my body parts in and watched my friend launch herself into her boat. Even with years of experience, her launch into her boat wasn’t much more graceful than mine. Good friends, good laughs.

It didn’t take long for the magic to sink in. A bit of instruction on how to paddle and we were off to explore. We hugged the shoreline and saw herons take flight. We paddled in the middle of the lake and watched ducks make their way from lake to sky. We found a path that had been swathed through cattails and navigated the water and the muck to the other side where an even quieter part of the lake was waiting to be discovered. More herons. A young muskrat. Fish that jumped. The creatures you discover and that discover you when you quietly observe the world around. 

One of my favourite parts, though, was sitting and talking with my friend. My admiration for her runs deep. She’s strong and fearless. She takes no shit but has this beautifully kind heart. She’s patient. She never was short or impatient with me on this adventure or, indeed, any other adventure. She knows what it’s like to do something for the first time and, as long as I tried, she was willing to teach. Like all of my friends, our differences are many but the principles we embrace are similar: be kind, do good. 

Like every other time we are together, laughter is also a big part of our time together. We laughed at each other getting in and out of the kayaks. We laughed as we talked about our lives. We laughed, really hard, at me as I flung the mud I was “poling “ my way through on the cattail path at myself, giving myself a stinky spa treatment. Mostly, though, we laughed with sheer joy that we were able to share this adventure together.

After we got back to her place, unloaded and I went home I took a shower, sat down with a beer and reflected on the day. 

I had the most incredible day because I said “yes” to an opportunity, “yes” to an adventure. The worst thing that could happen is that I’d hate to kayak. So what? I would pick something different to do with my friend next time round if that happened. But it didn’t. “Yes” opened the door to something beautiful, like “yes” often does.

I’d like to think I would’ve said yes to this the last time I was single but I’m not sure I would’ve appreciated the simplistic quiet and beauty of it. I’d like to think I’d have said yes to this when I was married but I probably would’ve not made the effort to find the time away from MFH, work, other life commitments. Saying “yes” at this time was meant to be — the right opportunity, the right time.