BEST DAY KAYAKING

 I have friends who like to kayak and some who do not. One of my friends says that she won't do any sport with a "k" in it. She'll walk, but she won't hike, she won't bike, and won't skate, she won't ski, and she especially won't kayak because it has two k's in it.

I am sitting on my porch chugging iced coffee when a neighbor joins me, also chugging iced coffee. We talk (which does have a k in it) and decide to take a kayak trip up to New Hampshire for the day. It's an impromptu decision, but it's a successful one. We go the back roads to avoid the beach traffic, which by noon when we leave is completely backed up for about thirty miles. The drive is lovely along some back roads and by deserted Covid-19-closed fair grounds.

When we get to the lake, it's probably close to two o'clock by the time we are ready to put in. We paddle past some boat slips and immediately run into the marine patrol. Ooops. I guess that means we need to be all legal and stuff. As soon as we make sure we are kosher with our equipment, the marine patrol leaves the water and we are free to misbehave. 

We paddle past a small dam and around a couple of beaches. There are rocks and branches along the shore with occasional breaks for private sandy spots, but there's no real place for us to pull over and jump into the water, so we keep the oars in and row on. 

Something catches our eye from afar, so we paddle on over to a weighted pot of plastic yellow flowers sitting on a rock. This is because the rock is in the regular marine lane (no one cares if kayakers and canoers hit rocks and dump over, apparently) and someone wanted to be sure no one would fly over it with a boat or jet ski. 

After a while we paddle by a very small sandy area where someone has set up two chairs in the woods. No one is around, so we moor the boats to tree branches and take a quick swim. Good thing we moved on because the next door neighbors have wandered down to their little beach and they would probably tell on us because, let's face it, we're interlopers. But, a quick recovery happens when we play with their dog on the dock from the kayaks.

In our adventure, we pass a heron standing on a rock (for real, not a pretend potted heron), a family of ducks, and a loon. The loon is fishing near us and decides to come a little closer when the jet skis encroach on its feeding area. All of a sudden about ten feet behind my kayaking pal, the loon poops up and poses for pictures.

Coming around the bend I notice two jet skis constantly going back and forth in front of a lake house with a private beach. Turns out there's a woman about my age buck-naked walking around her yard and hanging up towels on a clothes line. Well, I guess that's one way to dry off completely.

We finish up the entire lake in under three hours, take another swim at the real beach (no sneaking around this time), then head out for dinner despite the fact that we are filthy and sweaty and sunscreen-smelling, have forgotten deodorant, and our hair has seen better days. We don't care, though, because it is just another "Best Day Ever" in a series of best days.