beyond the bow -- trip 51

Trip 51 was about as idyllic a trip as is possible. 

The temperature, both air and water, were slightly cool.  I was glad as the sun started to set that I had chosen a long sleeved shirt for this trip and I stored away the thought for the next trip that I might want to start wearing longer pants as well.

The water was smooth, at times as smooth as glass.  The sky was filled with fluffy clouds which made beautiful reflections in the water.  There were the occasional jumping fish and in the sky collections of birds traveling southward.  Also, the wonder of monarch butterflies provided a magical surprise to this particular trip.

We both love to listen to music as we paddle.  My favorite is John Doan's Eire- Isle of the Saints (A Celtic Odyssey).  I love the soothing sound of this Celtic music and since my mother was a Doan, (being a 12th generation descendent of Deacon John Doane) I love to think somewhere along the line perhaps this John Doan is somehow related to me.

I also have a sprinkling of Dan Fogelberg songs in my song mix, which would be no surprise to anyone who knows me.  I always love it when his song, "Song of the Sea" begins playing because it seems especially appropriate while we are out on the water.

The water, the sky, the breeze, the smell of the sea and the music I love all seem to have a refreshing and rejuvenating effect on me.  I can feel stress falling off my shoulders and into the water as I paddle and this trip was especially so.

As we neared the put-in, we sat still on our boats and watched the sunlight wane and the lights from shore begin to make long trails on the water.  I think this is one of the parts I enjoy the most, when we stop paddling and just enjoy the beauty that is all around us.  Neither of us say much, but we both know we are so thankful to share this wonderful experience with each other.

It was a wonderful start on the next fifty trips.

beyond the bow -- Trip 50

Trip 50
 May Day Park, Daphne
October 6, 2012

Today was our fiftieth trip! What a milestone.

We set out from May Day Park, which has become our favorite put-in. It seems this was to be a trip for meeting people.

 As we were unloading our boats a man and his young son were removing their fishing gear from their truck parked next to us.  They were going to fish from the pier.  We had a nice conversation with them as we removed the boats and our gear, especially with the little boy who enjoyed showing off his fishing rod.

We put in from the boat ramp (to avoid the sand) and headed south as usual.  There was only one small cloud in the sky and the afternoon sun was bearing down on us.  It wasn't long before we both felt hot.  I splashed water up onto myself to cool off. 

As we continued on, we saw a few fish jumping again, but not nearly like the last time we kayaked.  I noticed as were paddled how often our strokes would fall into the same rhythm.  Silently we traveled along, our paddles making a unison chorus on the water.  I reflected how like our life that is.  So often we are in the same rhythm, the same pattern, two different people running together on the same path.  To me it is evidence of the working of the Lord throughout our lives.

We paddled about 1.75 miles before we stopped.  I had marked the beginning of our trek before we started and used our GPS to track our path.  It was interesting to look at the path later and see how far away from the shore we traveled and how far down from our put-in we went.

As we stopped we ate our snack of grapes and snacks as we enjoyed the site of the sun coming down in front of the one lone cloud.  I let my feet dangle off the side of the boat into the cool water and the whole time was absolutely idyllic.

Suddenly it seemed as if the sun was setting much faster than we had expected.  We turned to go back and realized just how far we had to go in so little light time.  I started to paddle faster, not because I was in a hurry, but because we were then going with the current and it felt good to go fast.  Glen shouted to me, "You look like you are flying!"  I felt like I was flying, too! 

Even as we were paddling fast, it still seemed our put-in was a long way away as the light waned more and more.  I was glad I had brought that amazing flashlight my son had given me for my birthday.  I was already developing a plan for using it if we needed to illuminate our boats.  I wasn't as concerned about seeing where we were going as I was being seen.

As we drew closer to our put-in in the dusk, we encountered another kayaker and behind her a woman on a sailboat.  The kayaker told us how glad she was to see us out enjoying the beautiful water.  As it turns out, they live in one of the houses along the bay and are often perplexed as to why more people don't enjoy its natural beauty.  We chatted with them for a few minutes before moving on, then paddled the short distance remaining to the put-in.

As we were taking our boats and gear off the boat ramp, another couple stopped us to talk about our time out on the water.  We were wet and carrying our gear, and the lady began taking pictures of us.  I thought she surely could find more interesting subjects than these wet kayakers, but perhaps we looked better than I thought!

This was a wonderful trip to cap off our first fifty trips.  We have loved kayaking so much and we lave learned so much about this area in which we live by experiencing its beauty firsthand.

I love the feeling at the end of a trip when we approach the put-in and I just don't want to go in.  I had that feeling on this trip.  I know that means we've had a wonderful time and I don't want it to end.

As we were packing up, that flashlight did come in handy after all.  By the time the boats were loaded in the car I needed the flashlight to see to secure them in place.

Its amazing how we have come to have our little systems and habits for kayaking over the years, such as what we keep packed for trips and how we secure the boats.  Even how we put two kayaks in the back of a Corolla is a neat thing.  I can't imagine how it would be to be like the friends we met on the water who live there and can just walk out the door to their boats (but I'd love to try it!)

Kayaking is something we love, and something we love doing together.  We had two years when we couldn't kayak because of my shoulder injury and that helped us appreciate it all the more.  It is special because we share it together and we love to share it with our friends.  We are now looking forward to the next fifty trips.

beyond the bow --Trip 49

October 3, 2012                                                    May Day Park, Daphne

This trip was a surprise to me.

Weather, commitments watching our grandchildren and my work schedule have prevented us from having a window for kayaking for over a month.  I was busy working on soemthing at the house and Glen came in and said, "I thought we'd leave in thirty minutes."  This is not an unusual occurrence, so I asked him just where it was we were going.

"I thought we'd go kayaking."  Like a flash I jumped up to get ready.  Little did I know that "jumping" was to be the theme of our trip.

We packed the boats and were sure to bring along the new round cooler we had recently purchased just for kayaking.  It was designed to to float along in the water behind the boats.  All loaded up, we headed east.

We put in at May Day Park, which is now one of our favorite spots, and it was an incredibly beautiful afternoon.  The water was calm, the temperature perfect, and the wind almost non-existent.  The water was cool enough to be refreshing but no so cool as to give a chill.

We headed southward along the eastern shore, the new floating cooler bobbing along behind my boat, or so I thought.  As we paddled, I noticed I was having a hard time catching up and then keeping up with Glen.  Normally this isn't an issue for me but this day I was really struggling and I was beginning to feel discouraged.  It was about that time Glen noticed something was wrong with our "bobber."

"It looks like its sinking," Glen said as he paddled over to me and sure enough most of the cooler was under water.  That was because the cooler itself was full of water.  I had been having trouble keeping up with him because I had been towing an anchor!

I could barely lift it into my boat to empty it.  We were glad we had only put a couple drinks in the cooler to test it and hadn't carried a meal as we often do.  With my "anchor" safely stowed up on the kayak, my boat was much lighter.  We paddled on a little further but the most remarkable sight stopped us and we sat to watch the wonder of our Lord's creation.

All around us, and out far into the bay, fish were jumping.  Not one or two, but hundreds of them.  They nearly jumped into our boats and I've been waiting seven years for that to happen!  It was absolutely amazing.  We couldn't turn in a direction where the fish were not jumping.  We sat, listened, watched and enjoyed the show.  Of course, the pelicans got into the act as well, trying to take advantage of the exposed fish.

 

Finally we turned northward toward the put-in and sat off short on our boats to watch a glorious sunset.  As I looked at the sky and the sea and the sun -- and the wonderful man the Lord has given to me to share it all with -- my heart and my eyes were full.  I was overcome with just how much I am blessed and with what a wonderful life I have been given.

Beyond the bow -- trip 48

This was a beautiful morning trip.

We hit the bay way by 5:47am.  The sun had not yet begun to peak over the trees, but there was already plenty of light...civil dawn as it is called.  The air temperature was 74° and a quick check on my phone told us the water temperature was a nice 84°.  The wind was a mere 3 knots.

When we reached the park it was just about idyllic.  Soft little thoughts of waves ambled up to the shore.  We unloaded and were even a little surprised at how cool 84° can feel against bare 98° skin which had not to long ago been nestled warm under the covers.  The water didn't stay cool for long, though.  The coolness was a fleeting thought as we first stepped our toes in the water surprising a few baby crabs looking for breakfast.  We paddled southward and marveled in the beauty of the morning.

The glow of sunlight was becoming visible on the building on the western shore, but the trees behind us blocked our view of the sunrise.  A refreshing breeze blew along, not enough to help us, not so much as to hinder us, just enough to add another layer of pleasure to an already wonderful morning.

As we paddled along, the pelicans were dive bombing for their breakfasts.  Only once did I see one come up without a snack for his efforts.  They would quickly swallow their treat as soon as they emerged from the water and then fly away as if they were afraid we would be doing the same thing to them.

After thirty minutes or so (I'm not sure because I had forgotten my watch) we stopped for a water break.  When we do this, we connect our two kayaks together (unless the water is rough and then it is hazardous to do so.)  I enjoyed looking out at the expanse of blue in front of me.

The Bay, and then the Gulf of Mexico and then the ocean spread out before me as far as I could see.  There was nothing before me but water.  The sky was a gradient ceiling of aquamarine and London blues and flowing into the floor of the deep turquoise and sapphire of the water. (Is there a significance in the fact that I describe these beautiful things by gemstones?) I didn't even bother taking my camera out of its waterproof container because I knew there was no way it could do this sight justice. 

As we paddled past the bay houses and their piers I wondered about each one.  Some seemed made of simple materials, yet perfectly created for their purpose, with little ladders to reach down into the water and benches upon which to fish or watch the gorgeous sunsets, some even had what appeared to be showers.  Others seemed so ornately designed and created, yet appeared to lack the practicality that would seem so necessary out on the water.  Why have the boat house at all if it couldn't house a boat, or give you a place to sit or fish or swim?  Why have it if it were just for looks?

As we were paddling back, we encountered some waves pushing back from the shore.  We found ourselves parallel to the waves, a situation one wishes to avoid in a kayak especially if the waves are of any significant height.  If these had been any higher, we would have had to change our direction so that our bows  but as it was, they were only annoying and didn't cause us any threat of capsize.  After a few minutes the waves leveled out and it was a simple easy paddle back to the put in.  But I had a little surprise in getting there.

I had gotten my sights wrong along the way and I thought we had much farther to go than we did.  When Glen started heading toward shore, I thought he just wanted to paddle further in that we had been, then I realized the put in was upon us.    I have always said that things look so different coming back than they do going out and it was surely the case today.  I usually make a point of making visual notes along the way to help remind me.

We paddled our boats right up onto the shore and started to load up.  This meant that we were walking through the water into the sand to the car.  I know this sounds obvious, but in all our years of kayaking in rivers and our years of not going to the beach, I have come to appreciate the lack of sand.  I spent several minutes trying to eradicate every grain of sand from my feet and shoes.  Finally, I walked out onto the pier and put my feet into the water to wash off my shoes and feet.  That's when I saw the little fishes swimming by.  It was like the last little wonderful part of an already great day.

Beyond the Bow. . .Trip 44

The first trip of the season this year was about as perfect as one could wish.  We put in at the Bay Front Park in Daphne, AL and headed south toward Fairhope.  We did not reach Fairhope.  Taking the whole winter off from exercise has taken a toll on my endurance but I am committed to regaining what I have lost.

While my performance was disappointing, the day was not.  It was warm but not hot.  It was cloudy enough to give shade, but not overcast.  It was sunny enough to be bright, but not blistering.  There was breeze, but not so much as having to fight the wind to paddle.  The water was cool but not cold.

We paddled along the shoreline but far enough out to be out of the way of the piers and those fishing from the piers.  We were greeted by a host of pelicans perched on old pilings.  As we paddled by them, I was amazed at their size and at how easily they took flight considering their size.



 

We paddled down for over a mile and then stopped to just chat and enjoy the water and the beautiful day.  The tide was changing and the current slowly pushed us back toward our put-in.  Since we had started late in the morning, we didn't want to stay out in the sun for too long, so after a while, we began the paddle back. 

It rarely seems to happen this way, but it was so nice to have the current with us, it made the ride back a joy.   We stopped at a beach on the way back to stretch our legs and walk out on one of the piers that is part of the Bay Front Park.  We enjoyed looking at the water we had just traveled over and planning the next trip.

Soon we were lining ourselves up to paddle back up to shore and carry our stuff back to the car.  What a wonderful way to start the season!  I don't know how many times I kept saying, "I love being on the water!" 

 The day left me looking forward to the next trip, the next day, the next wonderful time kayaking together.  I consider this to be such a great gift the Lord has given me in my life, the joy of kayaking with my husband -- and with friends who have joined us over the years.

beyond the bow. . .Trip 42 -- June 16, 2011

 

This was our first sunrise trip of the year.  I had forgotten just why we enjoy yanking ourselves out of bed before 5am. 


We put in at PoleCat Bay with determination to actually find the Tensaw River this time.  The water was fairly quiet as we paddled in a north-easterly direction.  It didn't take long for me to be reminded of what is so magical about the early morning trips.


I could just begin to see a ribbon of bright pink along the edges of the clouds and I knew soon the sun would be peaking out above the horizon.  I paddled faster to be past the bayway so I would have an unobstructed view.  As seems to be the case each and every sunrise, I was not disappointed.  At several points I just sat still in my kayak and considered how very great our God must be to create something so very beautiful.  I have no words to describe the beauty, the grandeur of that sun coming up in the east.  My camera didn't do it justice either.  With each snap of the shutter, I would look at the display and be so disappointed that what I saw on the screen was so lacking in life, vibrancy and color compared to what was transpiring before my eyes.  It is the very thing that makes this not-a-morning-girl put her feet on the floor well before daylight.


To put a figurative mound of icing on an already delicious cupcake, the sun was rising exactly over the mouth of the Tensaw River.  It was as if the Lord was saying, "I've given you a good show, now let me use this gorgeous sun to point you in the right direction."


We had an easy paddle up the river.  So easy, in fact, that we went much further than either of us had planned.  I remember that little voice in the back of my head trying to remind me, "You'll have to travel all this way back, too," but I didn't want to listen.  We stopped and had a snack of bread, cheese, olives and grapes and then headed back.  By this time, even though it wasn't even eight o'clock, it was becoming quite warm.  The good news was, we were facing the wind and the breeze felt good.  The bad news was, we were facing the wind. 

We actually seemed to  make good time for the first  couple miles down the river.  Then it seemed like our progress slowed significantly.  But we only thought it slowed.  Once we reached the mouth of the river, where PoleCat Bay meets Mobile Bay, the wind had whipped the water -- and the waves -- up significantly.  We paddled, but we didn't move.  I pulled, I pushed, I grunted, my boat moved over a wave and then was pushed right back again with the current.  Glen had the same experience.  (I don't know if he was grunting or not, the wind was whistling so loudly in my ears, it was all I could hear.)


We decided to change tactics. We changed direction and found we were finally making progress.  It was a good thing too, because my arms and shoulders had given just about all they had.  I had to force myself to lift the paddle as we headed close to the put in, even though the water was much calmer on that side of the bayway.

Apart from the surprising fight with the waves at the end, it was a wonderful trip.  The sun pointing out the way to our destination was such a great example of a deeper lesson.  If we keep our focus on the Son, He will direct our paths, He will show us the way to go.


Never does there seem to be a trip when the Lord does not seem to be revealing Himself in some way and showing us more and more of His truths.

beyond the bow, Trip 41

We started off heading for new waters.  We found a place we had never been, but it wasn't exactly where we were heading.

We put in about 5:45pm.  Since it is the first day of June, I shouldn't have been surprised that the water no longer held that "Oh my!" chilling surprise as it did earlier in the season.  I was not prepared to feel the water be so warm this early though, at a balmly 82°.  The wind was whipping up out of the North, causing some choppy waves in Polecat Bay where we put in.

We headed North, hoping to find the Tensaw River.  Instead we ended up in Delvan Bay.  Next time we will remember to go further east.  It didn't take long for the wind to die down to a pleasant breeze and the waves to ease out as a result.

One thing we both remarked about this evening was how peaceful and quiet it was.  "Except for the good sounds," Glen said.  It didn't take getting very far away from the Bayway and it's constant flow of cars before the traffic noises faded and all that was left were the splashing of fish and the chirping of birds.  It was the birds, in fact, that I found most memorable on this trip.

I think we were witnessing formation training.  Now, I don't know if birds really do this, but one would suppose if they are going to fly across a continent, they might practice a bit first.  The same group of birds would fly past every few minutes.  You could see the ones out in front were strong birds, but some in the  back of the formation looked a little inexperienced.  We both found it fascinating, however, to stop paddling and simply watch them form, break and then reform their formations.

At one point, with a glowing fuschia sun beginning to set behind me. the fish jumping on either side and the birds practicing formations above, I was struck by just how much I love this activity -- how much we both love it and love doing it together-- and what a gift it is to me.

The verse came to mind, "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning," (James 1:17).

It was a gift to me, not from our oldest daughter who introduced us to kayaking, although I definitely have her to thank.  It was not from my husband who decided to by the boats for us, and I really MUST thank him.

The gift was from the Lord.  It is a good gift from Him to me.  All the joy, the love, the pleasure I find in it is somehow a reflection of the joy and love and pleasure found in Him.  I sat there on my kayak, my arms and legs wet from the paddling, but my cheeks wet from my tears as this beautiful thought made its way from my mind to my heart.  What a beautiful gift from a beautiful God.

beyond the bow. . .April 21, 2011

We were determined for this trip to not deal with strong currents or high waves. We had decided upon a sunset trip and timed our start so we had plenty of time out.

Instead of Mobile Bay, we traveled a little more eastward and put in at Chacaloochee Bay. We decided to head down toward Apalachee River. The water was still cool, still in the sixties, but not too cool to be uncomfortable.

Without having to struggle with the current or the waves, I could easily remember why I love kayaking. I love the peacefulness of it. I love the smell of the sea. I love the feel of the water on my arms and face. I love the sounds of the water, of the birds and of the fish jumping. I told Glen that this season was the season one of those fish were going to jump right into one of our boats!

We reached the river and decided to cross the river and then paddle gently along the shoreline. As we started across the river, it was obvious we had not escaped the current. It was a strong push to get to the other side of the river and once there, the current was strongly pushing us toward the shore. This would not be the gently paddle we had in mind.

We started down the river, but it was all I could do to keep my boat straight. The current kept pushing me in toward shore. After a while, I maneuvered to a position more toward the center of the river. Glen was then closer to the shore and could feel the strong current I had been fighting.

Finally we decided to head back to Chacaloochee Bay to find a spot to eat our snacks we had brought. We made it to where the bay meets the river and we must have found the perfect spot in the currents because our boats didn't drift one bit as we ate.

We sat for a while and then headed back toward the put-in. Once there, we still had plenty of time before sunset, so we passed the put-in and paddled further in the bay. With the sunlight quickly disappearing, the breeze blowing and the water still cool, it wasn't long before I was cold. I stood it just about as long as I could. We ended up leaving before we actually saw the sun disappear along the horizon, but we were able to see the sunset on our drive home.

beyond the bow. . .April 19, 2011

The first trip of the season and the first trip after my hand surgery three months ago. This was also the earliest in the season we had ever started. The water was chilly, in the sixties, but it only felt cold for a minute or two. The sun was warm on our arms and legs so the colder water felt good.

We left about 1030, which is unusual for us. We prefer early morning or late afternoon trips, so we can catch either the sunrise or the sunset. I can't even remember the last time we were out at midday.

I remember putting sunscreen on my face, arms and thighs, but I never even thought about putting it on my shins. Obviously, after two hours in the water at midday, I had a sunburn to deal with. Glen, who burns much easier than I, had more sunburn in spite of using sunscreen more diligently than I did.

I had been hoping for a nice, easy calm-water trip out and back. This was not that day. We had decided to head over to the bay. We know usually during the morning, the bay tends to be calm, but it was windy. The waves were kicking up a little as we started and only increased as we continued. By the time we were coming back, we were dealing with some three and four foot waves.

Halfway through our trip, we managed to find a spot of sandy beach where we could get out of our boats, stretch our legs and enjoy the view of the bay, without having to concentrate on the current and the waves.

After our short break, we headed back. This was when the waves were at their highest. Each stroke took concentration. It wasn't until after we had crossed over into smaller Polecat bay that the water was calmer. I enjoyed just putting my hands into the cold water and feeling the warm sun on my face.

It was nice kayaking without my hand going numb. This was the final test of my surgery. I can now tell my surgeon it was a complete success!

beyond the bow. . .

September 10, 2010

This was such a nice trip.

We put in at Pole Cat Bay, which was very calm. This should have warned us that Mobile Bay would not be smooth. As we crossed under the bridge to Mobile Bay, we could tell we would once again have waves to deal with. But his time they seemed to come from every direction. Water crashed upon us from every side of our boat, on our arms and legs and in our faces. I experienced some of the biggest crashes down from waves ever.

Once we paddled past the Battleship, the water smoothed out some as the wind died down. Our goal was to find our little sandy beach area for a real picnic this time. In the cooler on Glen's boat was fried chicken, potato salad, rolls and even dessert! We paddled along, scanning the scoreline for our little "beach". The further we paddled, the more evident it became, there was no shore, our beach was underwater. We reverted to plan B.

We decided to paddle back out to the water from the shoreline. We leashed the boats together and had our "picnic" right there in the bay on the water. It was a delicious meal and the scenery was perfect. As we enjoyed our southern cuisine, the current gently pushed us back toward the bridge. The paddle back was fairly easy even though the waves were still a bit rough, the current carried us along even more than our own effort.

We made such good time returning, thanks to the strong current, we could sit in our boats on Pole Cat Bay and watch the most gorgeous sunset. The sky was painted colors of gold, pink, red and silver that I could never begin to adequately describe. As we pulled our boats ashore, I told Glen that if heaven is anymore beautiful than that,, we will have to be glorified just to handle it!

beyond the bow. . .

September 6, 2010
Mobile Bay

Our first "picnic" trip!

We were relieved as we drove up to the put in to see Pole Cat Bay calm compared to our previous visit. We put in and circled around South to Mobile Bay. When we crossed under the bridge of the Causeway and entered Mobile Bay we encountered surprising swells and waves. It took a good amount of concentration to keep on course and to maintain balance.

We headed closer to shore than we had done previously, hoping the water would be calmer, and it was. From that point on it was a fairly smooth paddle. We reached a small area of sandy beach, although not the one we had hoped to reach. It took a little maneuvering through the shallow water to remain in enough water to stay afloat, and still come in to the shore.

Once out of our boats, we had hoped to sit on some driftwood as we ate our snacks, but ants (and some funny hopping type insects) discouraged that. We had our "picnic", enjoyed the scenery and enjoyed having a place where we could stretch our backs.

As we were heading back, the sun was starting to set. I was planning on taking some sunset pictures, but the waves by this point were much to steep for me to take my hands off the paddle for more than one picture. The great thing was that the waves were actually pushing us along our way. I would feel the wave come from the back of my boat and would paddle forcefully with the wave. When it had passed, I would paddle normally until the next wave came. Glen told me when we were back in the car, he had wondered how I kept getting so far ahead of him.

Once we made it back to Pole Cat Bay, the water there was once again calm and still. We both enjoyed sitting in the water for a few minutes, but the light was quickly disappearing. Reluctantly, as usual, we left the water for another day.

beyond the bow. . .

Trip Thirty-one
Polecat Bay and Tensaw River July 29th

This evening was a trip unlike any other.

We have had trips before with more beautiful scenery. We have seen more beautiful sunsets, although the one this evening was lovely. We have had trips where the still waters enabled us to tie our boats together, dangle our feet in the water (okay, I'm the only one doing the dangling) and chat about our life. We have had trips with great friends along to share the enjoyment of kayaking. But no trip we have been on in all the time we have been kayaking has ever topped this one for just sheer fun.


As soon as we put in, we noticed how rough and choppy the water was. The wind was up a little and in our face, but not windy enough to account for the onslaught of wave after wave we encountered. Many of the waves even had little whitecaps. Our perfectly balanced little Wilderness Rippers handled the rough water wonderfully. Our kayaks rocked port and starboard, fore and aft and yet stayed perfectly afloat. I loved how my boat would rock and crash over the larger waves, splashing water all over my face, arms and legs. I admit, I looked to see where the highest, hardest waves were falling and set my sights in that direction.

We paddled north, up the river, but we both knew with the setting sun and the crashing waves, we wouldn't get too far. Still, it was one of the longest times of continuous paddling we have done. We couldn't stop concentrating for a moment, although the key was to keep our bodies loose and relax and feel as if we were a part of the boat. I felt if I let my mind drift, I would soon be drifting in that water, and I'm quite sure that wouldn't be my idea of fun -- especially getting back into the boat in those waves.

As we paddled on, the wind died down a bit and so did the waves. I felt so disappointed, as if the ride at the fair was over much sooner than I thought it should be.

I had hoped for the return, the wind would be at our backs and we could ride some of those waves in, but as is often the case, the wind and the current had changed direction as we did. Now the waves beat directly on our starboard side and the current pulled in the opposite direction. It was strong and I found myself having to fight hard to stay on course until I could break free of that part of the current and move more to the center of the river.

When we reached the bay area where we had put-in, the water had become much calmer and the sun was just about to tip under the horizon. We were able to rest awhile on the water and watch the glory of the sunset before we pulled our boats in and loaded up the car.

beyond the bow. . .

Trip Thirty
Polecat Bay and Mobile Bay
July 24th

Today's trip was something we had planned to do, decided not to do, then planned again.

We had planned to go kayaking in the afternoon, so we started out in the morning to finish all our errands before then. Some of those errands took us to the Eastern Shore and as we crossed the Bay way we took special note of the condition of the water we intended to be floating upon in a few hours. Especially concerning was the effect of Tropical Storm Bonnie. Although not headed toward us, these storms are usually large enough to have far reaching thunderstorms.

As we looked out across the water, it was as slick as glass and the skies clear of any threat of rain. Hopeful of a fine time kayaking later, we traveled from store to store completing our rounds, one of which was to try on some wet-suits. We hope to insulate ourselves against the chilly water and continuing our kayaking into the winter. We had kayaking on our mind all day long. That is, until lunch.

As we reached our lunch destination, we noticed the skies had turned a foreboding gray. Before our food arrived the rain started pouring down. It continued as we traveled home, across the very bridge we had crossed before. I had to raise my voice so Glen could hear me over the rain when I asked him if he thought we would go kayaking that afternoon. We both laughed as we knew the question as a joke.

Once home, though, the rain stopped. Within a few hours, the gray clouds blew away and the skies were finally clear. We took advantage of the time we had and loaded the boats into the car.

We put in at a new place we had noticed on our trek across the Bay way. Off the Causeway, we put into Polecat Bay, where the Tensaw River empties into Mobile Bay. Our intent was to cross under the Bay way to the USS Alabama nestled on the shore of Mobile Bay.


As we entered the bay, we encountered some of the booms placed to contain the oil from the BP oil spill. Only there was no oil. There was no sheen of oil on the water, no oil on the booms, no oil on the buoys in the bay and no oil in the water I cupped in my hands. It was as if the oil had disappeared.

At one point one of the booms was partially submerged, about the width of our kayaks. Glen took that opportunity to cross over the boom to the water closer to the battleship. Our little eight foot boots looked tiny next to the 680 foot battleship.

We paddled further down parallel to the shore until we realized we had a good bit of water between us and the put-in and not as much sunlight. To the west, the sun was already beginning to descend and paint the tips of the gray-blue clouds (perhaps to match the battleship) a bright white. To our east, the clouds had parted to reveal a white, full moon.

We headed back with purpose toward the battleship. Not only did we have to go back to the put-in, we had to find that submerged part of the boom as well. Looking up at the battleship, I could see some of the last visitors to that great vessel walking down the gangplank. A young boy stood at the railing watching us and I stopped paddling for a second to wave at him.

We came parallel to the battleship and found the breach in the boom. By this time, the young boy, along with his mother, had walked around the deck and were standing on the side toward us. We had to line our kayaks perpendicular to the breach in the boom to be able to fit through. I found it much easier, too, if I paddled up a good deal of speed before I tried to go over the obstacle. I reached it first, so I lined up and paddled fast to make sure I made it over. As I passed over the boom into the bigger bay area, I could hear the young boy cheering for me, then I heard his mother shushing him to be quiet. I loved hearing him cheer and knowing someone had enjoyed watching our little adventure.

Paddling back to the put-in and the river, we were against the current with the wind in our faces and the light was dwindling. I had lagged behind a little and since I know Glen always feels uncomfortable when he can't see me, I picked up the pace to catch up. It was shortly after that I saw it.

It was quick, just a flash in the western sky, the single thing that causes me more concern on the water than any alligator. . .lightening. I told Glen what I had seen and we both put our paddles in high gear. Looking up, I saw the gray clouds that had formed just overhead. Being on the water while holding a metal paddle during a sudden thunderstorm is never where I want to be. We both paddled hard and fast, which was more difficult going against the current. I could feel the sweat running down my face and my back.

We passed a boat house and I knew the put-in was close, but I wasn't sure how close. Did we have to go past that boat up there, too? No, suddenly the put-in was right before us, we had reached it much faster than I had anticipated. We were both sweaty and tired as we pulled the boats in out of the water. A quick dip in the water would have felt nice, but we weren't about to take a chance at that!

beyond the bow. . .

July 19, 2010
Trip Twenty-Nine
Chacaloochee Bay

FRANCES:

This trip was a spur of the moment trip. We had planned on going to the gym to workout, then Glen asked me, "Would you rather go workout or go kayaking?"

Now I would rather kayak than just about anything, so there wasn't much use in even asking the question --we decided to head to the bay for kayaking. We rushed to pack the car because we knew we only had a short amount of time before sunset.

We put in at our usual spot off the Causeway into Chacaloochee Bay. This time, instead of heading north up the bay or east to the Apalachee River, we went west toward the city and into the sunset. We set our sights toward the western shore and paddled. I set a mark of the RSA tower and only veered off course to avoid the marshy areas.

Although it was only one and a half miles to the shoreline, it seemed the more I paddled the further away the shore became. Our light was diminishing, too, as the sun -- hidden by a huge cloud -- gradually sunk further into the sky. At one point Glen told me we would have to turn around in five minutes, so that we would have light to reach the put in. I looked to the shore and thought surely if we paddled hard enough we could make it there in five minutes.

After bracing my feet and tightening my core muscles, I stabbed into the water with my paddle and pulled my boat with all the strength I could muster. After a few minutes of that, I stopped to assess my progress and to catch my breath. Glen shouted an update. "We'll turn back in two minutes."

I still had two minutes to try and catch that shoreline. I paddled again, but not with the same intensity, and soon the marsh which lines the shore was in sight, within a few strokes. I turned my boat toward Glen's just as he was telling me it was time to turn back. Since I know I would not have wanted to, or attempted to, paddle through that marsh, I consider we were close enough to the shore to say we had met our goal.

On the return paddle, with our backs to the western sky, we couldn't see the glorious sunset unfolding. At one point we stopped and turned to watch the sun paint the sky and water colors that have no names. Then we continued to the put in and sat motionless in our boats, watching the sunset and marveling in the beauty of our God who could create such a scene.

It was a wonderful trip. The temperature, of both water and air, were perfect. The large cloud kept us cool and provided reflections of the sun that amazed us. Then it moved just in time for us to watch the sun dip into the water. The breeze refreshed us and challenged us as we paddled against it.

We topped off our trip with a visit to a local coffee shop where the folks didn't mind if our shorts and shoes were wet, but were glad to have to see us and share their coffee.

GLEN:

Frances and I had one of those unplanned experiences yesterday that turned into an amazing time of wonder and blessedness.

We had planned all day to work out in the early evening. The day was very nice, however, and the thought occurred to me that a kayaking trip might be a little more pleasurable than lifting weights.

“Would you like to go kayaking instead of work out?” I asked Frances. Although she enjoys working out - I think - I didn’t have to twist her arm. “Let’s go!” she responded, and we had packed, traveled, and were in the water in less than 40 minutes.

The afternoon was a joy in every respect. We paddled in a familiar river, but decided to go west instead of our usual journey to the east. The sky was clear except for a very large cloud bank in the west that blocked the setting sun. This made for a very moderate temperature, and with a gentle breeze, we were more than comfortable and didn’t even break a sweat (amazing for a mid-July afternoon in the subtropics!).

More wonderfully, however, the aforementioned cloud bank created a beautiful filter for the rays of the sun. Frances and I both love clouds, especially those that accompany sunrises and sunsets (see her accompanying photos). You see colors in the sky that defy description and label, not to mention the sparkling hues that dance on the water.

The latter vision transfixed my gaze yesterday. The river was fairly choppy, and the movement, coupled with the filtered light of the sun, created on the water the most beautiful color of pale blue, or gray, or white, or, well, I don’t know! Again, words haven’t been for the palette of the Artist who sometimes seems to enjoy dazzling us with new displays of His beauty, creativity, and desire to fill our hearts with unmitigated joy.

This surely happened yesterday. Every minute of our voyage involved the thought and expression of how great and good is our God. I recall the same feeling while listening to the music of the Boston Pops Symphony several months ago when it seemed that every note, melody, and harmony caused me to tell the Lord, “You are so beautiful!” I have been graced throughout my lifetime with so many such moments, and as I have often surmised, if our Heavenly Father chose to never bless me again, I would still be indebted to Him forever.

I am also reminded of the cost that made such blessed possible. Every good thing in our lives comes to us by way of the sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ on the cross of Calvary. His sorrow, agony forsakenness and death purchased for us the loving favor of the God who rejoices in our joy. “He giveth us richly all things to enjoy” declared the Apostle Paul who also proclaims the price for the blessed we will forever know. “Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that ye through His poverty might be rich” (I Timothy 6:17; II Corinthians 8:9).

Finally, the gift of sharing such a moment with Frances made the experience completely overwhelming. As I wrote in a song to her about our kayaking experiences last year,

“Another day is given to us to share the wonder of grace, a gift for which I could never find a way to give enough thanks.”

beyond the bow. . .

July 3, 2010
Trip Twenty-Eight
Apalachee River

This was a late-afternoon trip, but not intended to be a sunset trip. We put in at Chacaloochee Bay because that's the closest put-in to our house and we knew we didn't have much time. We decided to go up the river because we hadn't been to the river this season.

As we paddled the canal to the river, we passed the restaurants on the Causeway, which are usually closed in the mornings when we kayak. Now they were full of people and the loud noise from the band (I apologize, but I could not in any context apply the word "music" here) blasted out over the water and drowned out all the beautiful gentle river sounds.

It seemed strange kayaking in front of an audience. Suddenly, I felt self-conscious. I was very aware of my stroke, my form and my relation in the river to Glen. I was glad when we reached the turn to the river and would be out of any one's line of vision. How surprised I was, when we made that turn, that the sound from the band vanished away and I could once again hear the birds, the lapping of the waves and the wind in my ears.

I was surprised how different the river looked from the last time we had paddled here. Some of the "landmarks" from last year -- like the partially submerged tree upon which birds perched -- were gone.

We didn't make it too far down the river simply because of the restraint of time. We didn't want to be coming back to the put-in in the dark. I'm glad we made that decision.

We kayaked back down the canal, past the restaurants and the same band was playing the same songs, only by now to different customers. We discussed coming back to this spot the next night to watch the fireworks for the 4th of July which would be just across the road. We could kayak, then sit in the water at the put-in and watch the fireworks -- we would have a perfect vantage point.

As we came closer to the put-in, Glen noticed a large alligator need the reeds. We gave him a wide berth and paddled past him. We lined our kayaks up to the put-in, Glen on the right and mine on the left. Glen started in first and I was a few feet behind him, always the most reluctant to come in off the water.

As Glen's kayak began to reach the shore, he motioned to his left and immediately I saw him. There was a gator right at the water's edge -- right between us. With my boat already in motion, I wasn't sure how this small alligator was going to react being flanked by us, but he simply submerged and disappeared.

Usually I dawdle in my boat because I don't want to come off the water, but this time we both moved very fast. We got ourselves and our boats out of the water in record speed. We packed the car and resolved we definitely would not watch the fireworks from the water or from the put-in, but from the safety of a near-by waterfront park!

beyond the bow. . .from Glen

From Glen:

This season has continued a new feature added to our kayaking, a social feature. We took a young couple, Sterling and Sarah, with us last year, and have taken dear friends on our last two trips. Steve and Mark are both devout believers who are examples to Frances and me of love, faith, and devotion to God and to people. Just being with them is a sanctifying experience, and since both are avid outdoors-men, kayaking instantly took to them, and they to it.

Frances and I are greatly blessed in that we enjoy being with each other so much that if you put us on a deserted island with little more than shelter, water (with a bit of coffee, please), food, and chocolate, we could be joyfully content forever. Most of our kayaking adventures have therefore been with each other, and with only each other. The experience is so blessed that I have written two songs about it (both are on our last CD), and if you haven't seen a sunrise with Frances, well, I'm tempted to say you haven't seen a sunrise!

Still, it is also wonderful to share with others the gift kayaking is to us. It began with our daughter Marie, who first bought a kayak while in law school. We bought three boats not long afterward, and our first voyages included our youngest daughter Emmie in her kayak, Bonnie Blue (she insisted that we name our boats. Frances is called Ruby Slippers, and mine, Emerald Rainbow). Our son Noah came with once, and witnessed our only capsizing (yours truly, of course). He and Frances assure me that they didn't laugh at my misfortune, but I am convinced that as the angel said to Sarah, "Thou didst laugh!" We loved our kayaking time with our children, and Lord willing, look forward to future excursions with them (and down the river a bit, with our grandchildren). Presently, however, their increasingly busy lives rarely coordinate with our increasingly busy lives, so there's very little opportunity to sail with Marie, Noah, and Emmie.

This has made our paddling trips with Sterling and Sara, and Mark and Steve a great blessing. Life is to be shared, especially with fellow believers in the Lord Jesus Christ, and adding the social aspect to our beloved pastime has been and will be the fulfillment of the Psalmist's sublime exultation:

"Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments" (Psalm 133:1-2).

I love this imagery, and am so often blessed to experience the heart reality of it with fellow believers. I cannot image what my life would have been like if lived away from the "precious ointment" of Christ's love as revealed through those who love Him, and who have loved me as the expression of their devotion to the Lord Jesus. It is the most amazingly wonderful thing in this life, and then to think that the gift of Christian fellowship and friendship is an eternal reality, well... well... Whew!

If you're reading this, consider it an invitation to join us some Saturday morning, perhaps before the sun rises, or perhaps after. Whatever the case, Frances and I will be honored and blessed, as we have been recently, to share our journeys "beyond the bow " with friends who are "closer than a brother."

September 2nd

We'll Sail This Morning

beyond the bow. . .June 12, 2010

Today heralded two firsts for us, we had never put in at this spot before and we kayaked for the first time with our friend, Mark.

We set out a little before 0800 and the weather was perfect. Originally, I had joked that I would keep our location a secret because it was so beautiful and we seemed to have it all to ourselves. It was so perfect a location, however, I have to share it with you. Thanks to the knowledge of our friend Mark, we put in at Brooks Landing in Chickasaw. The put-in was very nice and immediately we were in Chickasaw Creek, a tributary of Mobile River.



The water was almost perfectly still, creating mirror images of the trees along the banks. The sky was as clear blue as could be and I had trouble kayaking because I kept reaching for my camera.



As we paddled closer to Chicksabouge Park, you could tell a noticeable change in the temperature of the water. The characteristic coolness of this creek was very refreshing after having kayaked for an hour or so.


I always love when we kayak to listen to the birds in the trees and look for sightings of wildlife and flowers along the banks. At one point, we thought we had found a bank of wild azaleas --these were the brightest pink flowers I had ever seen. Upon paddling nearer, however, our "azaleas" ended up to be a swimming float that had somehow been lost and ended up on shore.

The level of the water is still high after our rains and the flooding to the north of us, because the areas of sandy beaches which dot the path of the creek, were completely covered with the tannin colored water.

It was a wonderful day of kayaking, nature and fellowship. As usual, I didn't want to come back to the put-in and get out of the boat. At least I know that next week will bring another excursion.

Beyond the bow. . .

May 29th

This day we kayaked in a place that was totally new to us, but in once sense very familiar.

We kayaked on Big Creek Lake, a 3,600-acre reservoir in west Mobile County which serves as the public water supply for the Mobile metropolitan area. Although we have never kayaked on the lake before, or actually ever even seen it except from the highway, we have consumed water from it for decades. It's about time we became better acquainted.

Our close friend Steve picked us up and we loaded the three kayaks into the back of his SUV. How nice to not have to squeeze the boats into the trunk of our little car! Not a single bungee cord was needed. We headed to his mother's house on the Lake.

I didn't say anything to the guys, but I felt odd at first about kayaking on this lake. My grandmother had been killed there while I was a younger teenager. She however, would be delighted to know we had associated joy and pleasure with this beautiful piece of the Lord's creation, and after the first fleeting thought about it, it never entered my mind again.

I was amazed at both the vastness of the lake and the clearness of the water. Both surpassed my imagination. We loosely followed the shore line and every direction offered a gorgeous view. It was no less beautiful, though somewhat larger it seemed, than Walden Pond we had visited in Massachusetts on vacation.

The wind was just enough to keep us cool and the water temperature warm enough to not chill us.

We took easy strokes, letting the gentle rhythm of the lake be our guide and after an hour or so decided to head back. It was Steve's first time to kayak and we didn't want to tire him.

As usual, I didn't want to come out of the water. I loved the feel of the water slipping through my fingers, the lake droplets falling onto my arms and legs, and the sound of all the birds calling and crying in the surrounding trees.

I can't remember a more beautiful place we have kayaked. The scenery was absolutely perfect as was the company. It was a wonderful trip.

Beyond the Bow. . .

May 22nd

I never would have imagined it would be the end of May before we got back into our kayaks! This is not the latest start of the season we have had, but I certainly anticipated being in the water before now. An unseasonably cold winter (at least for us) and our vacation, set our first voyage of the season back a bit.

This was our twenty-fifth trip and the first sunset trip I believe we have ever had. We set off with what we hoped was plenty of time to have a nice paddle, see the sunset and then have enough light to load up the boats.

We put in at Chacaloochee Bay and headed toward Conway Creek. We didn't exactly make it to the creek though, before it was time to head back. The sun appeared to be making its journey faster than we were ours.

The sun setting on the water was beautiful and we kept looking back over our shoulder to watch it as it headed down to the horizon.

We were pleased to see this season, the return of our friends the gators. We saw several, and several big ones, while we were out. After not seeing any toward the end of last season, it was nice to have them "welcome" us back again.

To Face the Truth

I guess I have to face the truth. . .the boats are in storage for a while. The air and water temperature are both 32 degrees. It will be awhile before the water is warm enough for either of us to brave sitting in it.

Now it will just be watching the temperature to see it come up gradually. I know we will be out by April because I have read that the wild irises bloom in Conway creek in April and produce a gorgeous display of bright pink blossoms. So, I'll keep my eye on the water temp and we'll be back when the water is a little warmer!