The Complete Flake Goes Kayaking

Well, I finally went kayaking, with the help of the gorgeous young folks at OEX La Jolla. And I had fun. But it was way harder than I thought it would be. I imagined gliding across the water with very little effort, just enjoying the ride.

Um, no.

First mistake: not drinking lots of water first. I got super thirsty out there under the sun. Second mistake: not bringing flip-flops for the walk on HOT sidewalks and streets three blocks to the beach and back. Yes, I got blisters. Third mistake: not putting sunscreen on my feet. It’s two days later and I still look like I’m wearing hot pink socks. Which reminds me — fourth mistake: taking a hot bath after getting home to ease aching muscles. That worked, but my feet came out lobster red after that, and yes, they hurt. (They’re better now.) Thank goodness I rented a full wetsuit!

As for the fun, it was exciting to learn how to paddle out past the surf, and how to paddle in sync with my partner, another granny named Deanna. But it was often a comedy of errors and we were always struggling to keep up with the our group of a dozen or so young couples. The surf wasn’t rough at all but to a beginner, it felt like the picture above! I sat in back and we paddled for what seemed like forever across the bay, with waves constantly threatening to tip us over.

My arms, legs, and back were screaming at me, “This is a mistake!” but there was no turning back. We’d been told to stick together for safety, and I certainly didn’t want to be far from at least one of the three young guides—Chris and Jason, typically buff and tan surf boys who were the leaders, and Lucia, a Mila Kunis clone who stayed in the back to herd us stragglers.

Once across the bay, we could relax. We saw several caves in the cliffs of La Jolla Shores but didn’t enter any of them, which disappointed me. Chris and Jason took turns giving us a tour at the top of their lungs but I heard very little of what they said. I got the impression they were giving a spiel like one you might expect on a tour bus, so I didn’t really care about not hearing—except when they were telling us what to do for safety. Then I was all, “What? What did he say? I can’t hear!” But I couldn’t hear Deanna either because her back was to me and the wind and waves were making too much noise. Lucia repeated a few things I’d missed, like, “See that white house over there? That was Dr. Seuss’s house!” and “Those orange blobs you see in the water are California’s state fish!” Good to know, I guess, but I’m not much for guided tours. What I really wanted was to paddle into those caves.

A large group of sea lions sunned on some rocks, and we got quite close. They stunk of guano (lots of big birds too, not sure what kind) and barked that distinctive sea lion circus honk. I finally remembered I’d bought a waterproof disposable camera and took some snapshots, but I haven’t had a chance to get them developed yet. (Digital cameras have spoiled me—I promise to do it tomorrow and I will post them when I have them.) In the constant movement of the waves, it was hard to balance my paddle in front of me on the kayak for a few seconds while I tried to take photos, so I only got a few shots. That was another lesson—plan better so you have more (and better) photos to blog about later.

Then it was time to head back. Deanna and I both groaned. We got a head start, though, because we were still at the back of the pack and suddenly we were all going in the opposite direction. But it didn’t take long before everyone had passed us again.

We were constantly out of sync with our paddling. Every time I managed to sync up with Deanna, she would switch gears. I started calling out, “Left, right, left, right!” and “Dig deep!” because she was barely dipping her paddle in the water. I was getting pretty frustrated with her, and I’m sure she must have thought I was awfully bossy, but every muscle in my body hurt and I just wanted to get back to shore as soon as possible. Turned out the poor lady was seasick. She wanted to get back even more than I did.

The guides told us how to go in toward the beach. “Keep paddling when the waves push you in, or you will flip over,” they yelled. Oh, great. They told us to go in, one kayak at a time, and Deanna and I got to go first because she was sick. We paddled like crazy and were just about there when someone came up next to us and flipped. I couldn’t believe that wasn’t us. They were okay, though, and we slid onto the sand a second or two later. After that, these two exhausted old women could barely get out and stand up.

Lucia took our kayak and we dragged ourselves up the beach to put our paddles away. Deanna leaned against the sea wall, still nauseous. Her friends came to help her so I headed back to the shop, hopping from shady spot to shady spot as best I could. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

After changing out of my rented wetsuit, I limped to my car and collapsed in the driver’s seat, gratefully chugging down the bottle of cold water I’d left behind in a cooler. I turned the key and felt my right thigh protest in pain as I lifted my foot to the brake. I was glad I went, but I couldn’t wait to get home.

Next time, I’ll try snorkeling. I hear it’s easier.