white water kayak

When I was in college my dad bought me a kayak at a garage sale. It was a red, white water kayak and it was $300. Of course, after that, we spent probably another $100 on a life jacket, new straps to attach it to the car and a very clever pulley system to store it hanging from the garage ceiling. I loved it.

I've never been much of an athlete. When I was in 7th grade I very painfully dislocated my knee playing soccer. I'll spare you the details, but it's one of those injuries that puts you on the injury list again and again over your lifetime as I'm finding out. Anyway, my freshman year my dorm neighbor, Veronica O'Connor, convinced me to join the crew team.

I was very reluctant to join. I've always considered myself way too tall and way too fat for something like this (read: spandex uniforms). As it turns out, tall is a very good thing when it comes to rowing. My experience with this sport at this point was pretty much nonexistent, but after that first day on the water I was hooked. It is a calming, challenging, beautiful sport and I was good at it.

I think when I was on the crew team my dad was extra excited and a little extra proud of me. He still talks about me joining a local rowing team and it's been 12 years since I've been in a boat, not to mention I live in NYC. Hudson river? yuck.

When I'd come home for school breaks or summer vacation, I'd lift that kayak onto my Honda Accord, just as I was taught, strap it down and head to the reservoir. Clearly neither my dad nor I knew anything about kayaking at the time (to be fair, I only know a little more now).

A white water kayak is one that you sit inside. It has a smooth bottom which makes it faster to fly down river rapids and easier to flip yourself back over if you roll under. You park at one point of the river, ride down it, and get picked up at the end. Salt water kayaks, or ocean kayaks, are the ones you sit on top of. These are the ones you rent on vacation. These have a keel on the bottom which help you travel in the direction you want to go. This would be the type of kayak I should have brought to the reservoir.

I'm all excited. It's a lovely, sunny day. I'm ready to get a tan and enjoy some peace and quiet out on the water. I unload the kayak from the top of the car and set myself off into the Raritan Reservoir. I start off coasting along, doing just fine then I spin a bit. Humm... maybe I just need more practice, more arm strength. Oh no. That keel is apparently very necessary on a body of water with no current to help you move along. I spent more hours than I'm willing to admit spinning in circles trying to kayak around the damn reservoir.

One of my favorite and most frustrating memories involves this kayak. When Dad bought it for me, my mom only agreed to let me take it out on my own if I could prove that if I fell out in the middle of the reservoir that I could get back in without help.

One skill a white water kayaker needs to know is how to flip themselves back up when they roll under. You sit in the seat/hole of the kayak that has a seal around your waist so water doesn't get in while you're rolling yourself back up. As I sat in the hole of my kayak, my mom wanted me to prove that if I fell out completely, legs and all, I could get back in. Mind you, this white water kayak is built to roll, built to withstand rapids... much unlike an ocean kayak which is wider and much more stable.

How am I going to prove this? Mom: "take the kayak to Loryl's pool and test it out there". I spent HOURS in the deep end of that pool. My strategy was : steady the boat.... pull yourself up onto the back of the very unstable kayak... balance the weight just perfect so that you can lift each leg into the hole, then scoot your butt forward and lower yourself in to the hole where the seat is. Simple. Right?

Let's just say, even though that sounded very easy, I might just suggest it to Jilian Michaels as the next best biggest looser challenge! And if my mom had any idea in advance, she would have secretly video taped the ordeal in order to ridicule me for years to come.

Needless to say, eventually we sold the kayak. But I loved having it and strangely consider that pool fiasco one of my more proud accomplishments. Silly, I know.