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

100 Adventures - Part 1

When I first came to the realization that there are more than 100 weekend days in a year, I was surprised.  Shocked, really.  Can it be true that almost 1/3 of the year is weekends?!?  Add holidays to that and that's a lot of free days.  Free.  Carefree.  Free to do whatever I please.

Adventure #4:  Kayaking with loons and eagles at Lake Murray

This is the thought that spurred the "100 Adventures" challenge.  Why shouldn't we have 100 adventures in a year, since we have all of these days at our disposal?  Challenge accepted.

#30:  Spanish Canyon hike

Now, let me lay down some rules.  It has to be 100 different adventures.  The rope-wall yoga class at Yoga Home of Therapeutics where we hang upside-down suspended in our make-shift harnesses in downward dog and child's pose can only be counted as an adventure the first time.  The outdoor yoga class at Urban Agrarian, where we sometimes had to surrender the yoga mats to the Oklahoma wind, is another adventure - but only to be counted once, no matter how many times we greet the sun in salutations on the concrete pad outside the local food market.  

#38:  "Spokeswomen" at the Friendship Plant and Seed Exchange

There are some grey areas in the rules, too.  How many different adventures can you have in a single day, or on a single vacation?  When we played in and on the Blue Whale in Catoosa, posed at the Totem Pole Park in Foyle, hitched a ride on a stranger's boat on Grand Lake, and hiked at Natural Falls State Park; how many adventures should that count for?  One.  It was all on the same roadtrip.  The week spent kayaking in the Alaska wilderness and exploring glaciers was just one big adventure.  The day that I rode with the "Spokeswomen" on our inaugural bike ride to brunch in dresses with flowers on our handlebars, then later hiked to the Spanish Canyon with another friend, that counted as two separate adventures.  Basically, if there was a break in between, and maybe a wardrobe change, then I think they count as individual adventures.  Most days, the adventures all blended into one big mass of good times.

#47:  Eclipse at the Tallgrass Prairie and hike at Osage Hills State Park

#54:  Mani-pedi day with my niece

Of course, there are Family Days of Obligation, as my large, mostly-used-to-be-Catholic family refers to them.  The nieces and I had a few adventures of our own, but regular family get-togethers to see who is taller, compare who has the bigger belly or butt, and see how far we can revert to our pick-on-our siblings childhood ways - probably not really an adventure.  In other words, the adventure must be FUN.  I understand that these Family Days of Obligation, or regular obligations of life, might cut into these 100 weekend days, so weekday adventures are required.

#60:  Martin Park with the nieces

What adult has time for all of these adventures?  Well, I've never been accused of being an adult, so I don't know.  Make time.  It's important to my mental health to have a more-than-normal amount of playtime in the sun.  You may not personally require quite as much vitamin D, or quite the same level of adrenaline, or quite the travel distance to get to your places of adventure.  Maybe it is just a 30-minute swinging session in the park, or a pedicure in January when you are the only one that sees your toes.  Maybe it is a trip to the neighborhood pond to watch the ducks, or frisbee with the family at the newly revamped Myriad Gardens.  You don't have to go far, or take out a loan to pay for the gasoline, or don a helmet for an extreme sport.  Just do something you enjoy.  Share this time with friends, or find your own private adventure.  Remember those rules?  Forget those, make your own.  These are your adventures.  The new year just started, so resolve to make this happen in 2013. 

#81:  Viewing of private arrowhead collection after kayaking in Keota

Out of my 100 adventures in 2012, all but three of those were in Oklahoma.  Instead of running out of Okie adventures, my list to do and see and experience this year is even longer.  There were 15 unique kayak trips, 21 different hikes, multiple bike rides, climbing adventures, and live music experiences.  There was a photographic hunt for a snowy owl in Marland, a chicken farm tour in Tuttle, small town fairs and festivals, street parties, garden parties, and potlucks.  I have 9,416 pictures on my computer - just from last year - and they can only remind, but not capture the awe of these moments.

Stay tuned for the next blog post when I tell you about the 100th adventure of 2012.  I still had a month and a half to spare, too!  Want a hint?  The 100th adventure was in SE Oklahoma on the most beautiful hike I've ever experienced.

Quest for Water

We were driving through towns only heard about during severe weather coverage on television (okay, I mean the radio, since I haven't owned a TV in many years).  The kayaks were strapped firmly to the roof and were buckling as the heat made their plastic frames pliable.  Folks in towns like Custer City and Thomas stared and shook their heads, as if they had just seen a car with surfboards driving through Oklahoma.  Our likelihood of finding water to wet the boats was looking as grim as surfers seeking to catch their next wave on the inland seas. 

The current drought is going on two years.

Today's plan was just to paddle around at American Horse Lake.  On the way there, I mentioned that the last time I had visited, the water had dropped a good three feet in a matter of two weeks.  That was probably two or three months ago - before the mercury hit the hundred-teens. 

An hour's drive later, I make the last slight left to the lake and meet a new gate with a bright orange sign announcing "DANGER - RESTRICTED ACCESS" and forbidding entrance.  We got out and walked the last few hundred yards to what used to be the water's edge.  There was no lake.  There were hills of red dirt and shale.  Beer bottles from years past and entombed plastic tubs that held bait in a past life.  When we finally found water, it was a stagnant, green puddle.  There was no sign of the clear waters that had stolen my heart the first time I discovered this lake.  We would later learn that the lake was being drained for more work on the dam that was damaged during flooding several years earlier.  For now, we were rejected.  All we could do is return to the car and vow to come back without boats and armed with trash bags, so we could clean up my playground in anticipation of rains that will revive her and make her beautiful once again.

American Horse...Lake?

GPS, maps, and the Oklahoma Water Atlas are consulted and we redirect to Canton Lake.  All that I knew of Canton, was that this was the source that fills Overholser, Stinchcomb, the North Canadian River (oh, I mean the Oklahoma River), Lake Hefner, and my water bottle.  The backroads take us through dry farmland and past many unmarked dirt and gravel roads.  I'm always excited to drive on an Oklahoma road that I haven't ever seen before.  As my traveling companion says, "when plans fail, the journey begins".  Little did he know at the time that the plans would fail more than once on this day.

"ROAD CLOSED TO THRU TRAFFIC" the sign read, just past the sign that pointed the way to Canton Lake.  Well, we had been debating whether to go to Canton Lake or Foss Reservoir, so the next choice was obvious. Besides, the map shows that we would be crossing the South Canadian River, so we could always just stop there and slide the boats down the side of the bridge and launch into the sandy riverbed. We recalculated our route.

The wide bridge announced the South Canadian River crossing, but we peered over the sides and couldn't see any water in either direction.  Not a puddle, not a ribbon of stream, not a drop.  I was beginning to think that the townfolk in their pick-up trucks were right about our deteriorated mental condition.  What were we thinking when we loaded boats and set out to go kayaking today?

South Canadian "River" to the East

South Canadian "River" to the West

I crossed my fingers and questioned my loyalty to the sun gods.  We need clouds and rain, too.  Why hadn't I realized this before today?  Oh, what have I done?!?  I search for upbeat tunes and continue speeding across dusty towns with more people in the cemetery than the last census.  One town boasts that it is storm-ready and I wonder what that means.  Union Pacific trains stretch for miles in their stillness, with just enough gaps to keep from blocking the numbered county roads.  I wonder if there will be another gate, another roadblock, or another dry patch of land awaiting.  There was no Plan E.

Blinding sun reflected off whitecaps and sparkling white boats bouncing skiers.  The three-mile earthen dam (one of the largest earthen dams in the world) wasn't doing a "dam" bit of good, since the water had receded several feet from the foundation.  But, there was water, and lots of it.  Probably not 63 miles of shoreline, as the Oklahoma Water Atlas boasted, but there was still plenty to share. 

No big boats launching here!

I already had the launch site picked out on the map - the furthest boat ramp from the dam, and the one bordering the Washita National Wildlife Refuge.  There was only one other boater in this part of the lake, and they were anchoring for a walk on the sand and a dip in the inviting water.  Our kayaks splashed their way across the lake against the wind.  The drips of water blown from the paddle blades were welcomed on hot skin.  This was nothing like the quiet little pond that we were originally trying to reach.  Good thing that we are Oklahomans and are resilient, stubborn, and still able to evolve.  We will make it work, and we are going to enjoy this journey, wherever it takes us. 

These people are Oklahoma-ready!