Water Bonds

 Moraine Lake, Canada

Around 2000, I bought my first kayak from a big box store in Olathe, Kansas. I had to figure out how to load and unload it myself from my Isuzu Rodeo. For the first year I owned it, I didn't know a single other person in Oklahoma with a kayak. Before too long, I got a second kayak from Ocean Kayaks in Washington and had it shipped to Oklahoma. I didn't bother to order a paddle with it, because I knew that there were a couple of stores around town that sold kayaks, so I figured I could buy one locally. That turned out to be harder than expected. While these stores technically had a kayak for sale, they didn't actually have a paddle in stock to sell with it. I ended up with a $20 leaky paddle from WalMart.

Around this time, my brother had bought his first kayak, then his first 100 kayaks. They were all over the yard and inside his home owned by the city on the property of Martin Park Nature Center. Dave told me that he was going to open a kayak store, and I was as skeptical as anyone else in the state. He proved me and the rest of the world wrong. When I spotted a car going down the road with a kayak strapped to the top, I could tell you who it belonged to in those early years. Between the social paddles, full moon paddles, and the "ya-yas", the kayaking network multiplied rapidly. Soon, I started seeing boats on cars that I no longer recognized.

I worked for three years at the WildCare Foundation - a large wildlife rehabilitator in Noble, Oklahoma. During the summers, my two kayaks were always on top of my car. Each day after work I would alternate taking different co-workers (and my boss, Rondi) out for a paddle on Little River in Norman. Most of them ended up buying kayaks for themselves from OKC Kayak. I told them a little white lie when I said that it was just a one-time investment - until you need a buddy boat.  There were also some memorable wildlife releases by kayak, including a mink.  There may have also been an incident when Rondi and I cracked her windshield trying to put the kayaks inside her car instead of on top when we were caught in a windstorm and didn't want to try to load them on the roofrack.

One sunny winter day, I was in my boat with my feet propped on top enjoying the calm waters of a cove on Lake Hefner. An older couple were walking their two little pups along the path on shore. The woman called out to me, "that looks so relaxing." "It is!" I replied. "We should go home and get our boats," she said to her husband. "You have kayaks?" "We do! Do you know Dave Lindo?" "Who?" "Dave Lindo. He owns OKC Kayak and is a neat guy. You should know him." I finally had to admit that I had known him for 36 years (or however old he was at the time). "Is that your brother?!" Truth was out. Later that day, I saw Dave at a neice's birthday party. I told him that I had met Doris and Tom. His response? "They told me you weren't wearing your lifevest." Doris and Tom became dear friends for the rest of their lives. I now have the kayak that Doris used to paddle.

Many weekends were spent paddling up and down Stinchcomb with friends. We hauled hundreds of pounds of trash and miles of abandoned fishing line out of that river. Walter and Michael were champions of getting the biggest trash hauls to shore - propane tanks, tires, and even a chest freezer!  Kayakers were always leaving the waterways cleaner than it was when they got there.  

There were some epic battles between the sailing community, the city, and the kayakers. The sailing club ended up bogarting Hobie Beach and forcing the social paddles to launch from the newly-dubbed, muddy Paddler's Point. That was the same spot where Dave came to the rescue when Doris contacted me about a pelican that couldn't fly at Lake Hefner. I had moved out of state and she knew that I was coming to town and asked if I knew anyone who could help rescue this poor bird. I needed the distraction that week and offered to use her boat to try to catch the pelican. After some futile attempts, I called Dave to see if he was around and could bring a second boat. He showed up a few minutes later with a trailer full of kayaks, popped one in the water, and within seconds we had cornered the pelican and he was able to grab him. "Charlie" the pelican is a whole other story, but last I heard, he is still living his best life year-round as a flightless bird on Lake Hefner.

Dave has taught me to try to find a way to say "yes" to some epic adventures. I had just started a new job when he invited me on a kayaking trip in Alaska. His Alaska trips had been on my bucket list for a while, but between the costs, vacation time, and lack of a petsitter, it just wasn't in the cards for me. Dave removed the cost obstacle and I figured out the rest. Five years later, I got another chance to go on his Alaska trip again, this time with my Sweetpea. Most recently, my Sweetpea and I got invited last-minute to join Dave and some badass kayakers on the Selway River in Idaho. Lesson learned - if you get invited, you should go. (Second lesson learned - make sure your lifevest fits well, oh, and hold on to your paddle.)

Now, most of my friends own kayaks, or paddleboards, or both. When I first met my Sweetpea, he already had one kayak and was in the process of building another one out of wood. All of our dogs (and one foster dog) got to go kayaking with us. We have gone kayak-camping in Glacier and the Yellowstone wilderness. We have paddled together in many states and several countries. I still get together with some of the original "ya-yas" for girls' trips. The friendships and community that have bonded on the water are some of the strongest and longest-lasting. I bought my first boat for the independence, but kept paddling for the kinship. 

While many of my friends have supported OKC Kayak and Tulsa Kayak, I have to admit that I've never bought a boat from them. There was a time or two that I was able to sneak in the store and either pay cash or have my Sweetpea pay when Dave and his wife, Melissa, weren't there. He then put both of our names (and probably our mugshots) at the register to warn his workers to never let that happen again. We even bought some things online using our dog's name, only to get a call from Dave five minutes later to ask if our dog stole our credit card as he cancelled the transaction. I eventually passed my two original kayaks on to other people and upgraded to one from OKC Kayak, thanks to Dave. Numerous kayak racks, NRS straps, paddles, stickers, and outerwear have been provided pro bono over the years. 

OKC Kayak and Tulsa Kayak were like Field of Dreams - "if you build it, they will come". Oklahoma is now a top spot for world-class kayakers and even the Olympics. Without Dave and Melissa, I doubt that would be the case. Now, those kayak stores are scheduled to close their doors for the last time at the end of August. REI, Costco, and Amazon will never be able to replicate or replace what these stores created. Dave remembers almost every boat and who bought it. These weren't just financial transactions, these were entry passes to a whole new community and lifestyle. Well done, Dave and Melissa. Thank you, and see you on the water!

Jumpin' Jack Splash earned his nickname

Foster pup, Bunny, on her first paddle

Sky and our foster, Bunny

Dave and Melissa in Alaska

Dave rolling his boat in Alaska

Doris at one of the Ya-Ya paddles

Kayaking in Florida

Kayaking with manatees in Florida

Dave kayaking in Alaska

My Sweetpea kayaking in Glacier National Park

Lake Louise, Canada

My Sweetpea kayaking in Portugal

Manatee swimming under my kayak in Florida

Melissa kayaking in Glacier Bay, Alaska

Nugget Falls, Mendenhall Lake, Alaska

Nugget Falls, Alaska

Releasing a mink at Stinchcomb

Sky chilling with a moose in the background

Kayaking Moraine Lake in a snowstorm in Canada

Kayaking Moraine Lake, Canada

WildCare employee releasing opossums along Little River

Dave kayaking in Alaska

Dave kayaking with sea lions in Alaska

Louis Lake in Yellowstone

Backcountry camping in Yellowstone on Shoshone Lake

Yellowstone

Ya-Ya Judy in New Mexico

Ya-Yas Jill and Judy in New Mexico

Snow kayaking in Colorado

Newest kayaking friends after our Selway River trip

Kayaking with Dave on the Selway River 

Wearing lifevests, for once

People ARE the Difference

It's been almost a year since I left Oklahoma.  That's right.  I left my beloved state.  I left my friends and family, and adopted grandma behind – all in the name of love.  While I have no regrets about my decision, that doesn't mean that I don't miss Oklahoma – mostly my Oklahomies.

Sure, I miss chili chocolate tea at t, an urban teahouse, the Lee's coffees at Lee's Sandwiches on Classen Boulevard.  I miss the Towheads habanero salsa from Urban Agrarian.  I miss the Wichita Mountains.  I miss LakeHefner, even in its dwindling state.  I miss the Paseo and Plaza districts.  But, most of all, I miss the people.

The state where I live now is beautiful – classically beautiful.  I would trade the mountains, the pine trees, and the half-frozen wild rivers to have my Oklahomies here.  People make ALL the difference. They can make a difference in a good way, or in a bad way.  Unfortunately, national news has been full of the handful of bad ones lately.   Or, always.

Let me tell you about a few of the Okies that are the good people.  Let me start with my blood-family. My redneck brother has towed my car when I buried it in snow.  He has helped one of my friends haul a piano that she found at a garage sale.  A piano.  A big, heavy piano.  Because he's my brother and it was for my friend.  It once took us FOUR hours to drive 20 miles in a snowstorm on Christmas Eve, because he was helping others.  He helped make sure that a dozen or more people got their homemade tamales for the holidays.  He pulled numerous people out of ditches.  He stopped to pick up one stranded worker just to drive him to a convenience store to pick up enough food to last for the night and took him back to work.  He lives for helping others, and beams when the kids at church look up to “Mr. Paul”.

My other Okie brother will literally give you the shirt off his back.  He IS OKC Kayak (and now, Tulsa Kayak, too).  He will give you his last granola bar if you are on one of his trips and you are hungry.  He will give you his gloves, jacket, and hat if you forgot yours.  He spent most of a day helping me load the moving van with the heaviest of my furniture, and then helped pack up more boxes, too.  Yes, I arrived at my new home with some interesting labeling on some of the boxes (“Misc.” somehow turned into “Misc. sex toys”).  Rarely has anyone been able to beat him to the check, either.  He is always striving to do the right thing.  That's just who is he.

"Southern Belle" Bernie

The last remaining sister in Oklahoma is the Southern Belle.  She will charm you with her Okie accent and genuine smile.  She will sing and dance and make you laugh.  She is not afraid to visit people in the hospital, no matter how bad of shape they are in.  When her own husband was in a serious accident, they both kept their sense of humor.  You will never just get a “happy birthday” from her – she will tell you all of the things that she loves about you on the anniversary of your birth.  She has a soft spot for ALL people and animals.  She sees no boundaries of class, race, religion, sex, or age.  She is teaching the next generation to live with joy and laughter.  It's not her duty, it's just her.

My mom is an honorary Okie, though she probably would never admit it.  She put up with eight, independent, hell-raising kids that took after their father.  She raised the family while my dad worked out of town more often than not.  Then, she took care of my dad through a horrible illness that slowly took away his life over four and a half years.  She has volunteered with hospice, worked as a hospital chaplain, and still runs daily errands for friends she made at the assisted-living center - even though she no longer works there.  She delivers communion, drives them to doctors' appointments, and keeps them company.  Every day is spent serving others.

My Okie friends are changing the image of Oklahoma.  They vote.  They encourage others to do the same.  (Remember, most of the embarrassing Oklahoma news stems from elected officials - did you vote?)  They open businesses.  They employ others.  They stand up for their beliefs.  They stand up for those without a voice.  They tread lightly on Mother Earth.   They make art from others' trash.  They foster animals, and kids.  They feed people.  They are leaders by their actions – not titles.

Oklahomies would not have made me ask for their help if I got my car high-centered in the snow – it would have been freely offered.  Okies would not have made me wait until they finished shooting off their last five rounds of ammo.  Okies would not have complained when the handle of their shovel crumbled when I barely used it.  They most certainly would not have given me an address to send the rest of the money I didn't have on me to cover the last $12 for their old shovel, after they emptied my wallet.

See no evil, smell no evil?

I won't deny that there are some bad people in Oklahoma.  Or, some Oklahomans that do stupid things, or follow along with things that aren't right.  It doesn't matter who is looking, or listening.  We need to all try to do the right thing regardless.  Okies, along with everyone else, are imperfect.  We can all do better – be better.  Maybe other states are judged differently – because the people rarely concern themselves with anything or anyone outside of their personal bubble.  All that I know, is that the Okies that I know and love aren't the ones I read about in the news.  MY Okies are working diligently to make my home state even better.  And, I miss them (and Towheads habanero salsa).

Parks in the Park

Outlaw Ghost of Robbers Cave

by Daniel Parks

With wisp of wind on gloaming breeze,

odd swirls of dust move through the trees.

And while it's true the days had passed

when robbers to this Cave were cast.

Yet in its shadows, dread prevails,

nocturnal fears the night regales.

And on some hot and sultry nights

it seems suffused with muted fright.

'Twas on such night, as from a grave,

strange devil winds stirred from the Cave.

And in its midst a woman stalked

adorned in silken gown and frock.

Her flexuous hair cut to her sash,

influenced not by dervish cast.

And in the gloom, I tried to see

if specter's real, or fool I be?

The ghostly wench entreated me

to sue the winds to set her free

While in her hand, extended thus,

a pistol waved amongst the dust.

Her face was aged and anger fraught,

while curses coursed for vengeance sought.

And then I caught the woman's name

as from her maw were vows proclaimed.

"Belle Starr's earthly form I bear,

my death avenged, of that I swear.

When dastard deed, requited be,

these chains of death will set me free.

And then my killer's soul I'll take

to Hell's eternal burning lake!

And then my killer's soul I'll take

to Hell's eternal burning lake..."

And as she spoke, the devil wind

began to ebb its strident spin.

And the specter from the past

was no more carried by its blast

but faded back from wince it came

while crying out her dreadful name.

And lastly vanished to her grave,

this Outlaw Ghost from Robber's Cave.

As I gasped from lack of breath

I knew I'd seen the face of death...

Blooming dogwoods

Dogwoods turned their flowers upward to the spring sunshine.  Birds flirted in their branches and redbuds lent their color to the woods.  I arrived at Robbers Cave in Wilburton on a Friday afternoon in mid-April, ready for a weekend of camping and wedding festivities.  My good friends had been planning their green, sustainable wedding (well, of all things, a wedding/ marriage should be sustainable!) for almost two years, complete with compostable plates, cups, and silverware.  It's no secret that I'm not a fan of weddings, but it is bound to be enjoyable when the bride refers to it as the "camping event", and dogs are encouraged.
 

Beautiful bride and groom and their furkids

As I set up my tent that I had purchased for $10 at the outdoor gear swap meet at OKC Kayak, a ranger's assistant came by to collect the camping fees.  He asked if I had ever been to the park before, and I was happy to say that not only had I been, but I had even mentioned the park in one of my blogs.  I asked him where the largest pine tree is in Oklahoma, since the park boasts that it has the "second-largest".  Stumped, he radioed the park office to ask.  Apparently, it is a well-guarded secret, and I am still searching for the answer.

Perfect campsite

Parks (coincidence that Mr. Parks is a park ranger's assistant?) mentioned that he is a writer, as well.  In fact, he has a book being published and will be released very soon.  He asked if I would include one of his poems in my blog, which I was delighted to do!  By the time I finished setting up my tent, Mr. Parks had delivered a copy of one of his poems and a photocopy of the cover of his new book.

I was thrilled to kick off my weekend with this chance encounter.  I really should no longer be surprised at the amazing Oklahomans that I meet on my adventures around the state.  As I joined the rest of the wedding guests at the lodge, I gushed about my good fortune.  Friends who had joined me on other Okie adventures weren't too surprised.  We have met some of the most interesting, talented, and generous people on our travels.  Daniel Parks can be added to that growing list.

Gifts of ghost stories!

A little while later, I returned to my quiet camping spot (thanks to a tip from the groom!) and found some pieces of paper weighted down next to the fire ring.  It was one of the ghost stories from Parks' book.  I sat by the creek and read about strange calls for help in the darkness and the mysterious disappearance of one of the rangers.  I concluded that it was fiction, but it played with my mind and had me second-guessing. 

Wide-open eyes saw nothing but blackness as rain pelted the tent.  I couldn't sleep, but I wasn't sure if it was because I'd never used my bargain tent and I wasn't confident that it was water-tight (it was, thankfully!), or if it was because of the ghost story that kept replaying in my mind.  The author's references to landmarks in the park create a story that is hard to distinguish from fact.  Half-asleep dreams mingled with the ghost story and had me actually wishing that there were other campers close by.

Cattail Pond at Robbers Cave

There are valuables to be discovered in the Oklahoma state parks, and Daniel Parks is one of them.  Pick up a copy of Poetic Scenes and Mystic Dreams, and spend some time visiting with the state park employees.  Find out how they got there and what keeps them there.  Our shrinking park budgets will never be able to properly compensate them for the lives that they give to the areas that they love.  Experience a little bit of it for yourself.  See it, walk it, submerge yourself in it, and let it keep you awake on a rainy night.  (You can purchase Mr. Parks' book at the Robbers Cave Cabin Office, the Gift Shop, or online from Amazon, or directly from the publisher - Lulu).