badfish

So Canoecopia 2011 is one for the history books.   It was a wonderful, exhausting, exhilarating, feet-killing, paddlesport love-fest.  I’m grateful to all who worked the show, attended the show, spoke at the show, or performed security (thanks, off-duty Dane County Deputy Sheriffs!).

The day after the show one has two choices:  sleep in (a noble and good choice), or paddle Badfish Creek with a couple of hearty souls.  Yeah, we went to bed at 1:00 AM that morning, but the anticipation of a paddle can wake me up faster than a cattle prod turned up to 11.

We had a few more people committed, but I think they were too entangled in the arms of Morpheus to get out of bed. Since I get up around 6:00 am every day, I’m pretty much incapable of sleeping in.  So I was up.

I can’t tell you how good it felt to open the garage, slide a boat out of the rack and strap it to the top of my car.  The gunwale brackets were still set to the Argosy width, so the gunwales nestled in with an almost imperceptible sound…a velvety snick.  The gunwales were happy.  A few straps over the top and my truck started looking normal again.

So Jon and Annie, Brenna (new staff!) and Brian (the new Level Six rep) climbed into a few cars and we headed south to the Badfish, just over the Rock County line.  We didn’t leave Annie and Brenna in the kayaks on the trailer, but I thought it might be interesting.  They could sit looking back at the cars behind them, as we used to do in the very back seat of the 1970 Ford Country Squire Wagon (avocado green with wood).  You stare at the drivers…they stare back at you.  Détente.

Then we’d flick a booger at them.

But I digress.

The air was just below 40 when we put in.  The water was probably about the same.  The sun peaked out a little and the light was luscious, and it felt warmer than it was.  This is probably a Wisconsin/upper Midwest thing. When a photon hits the skin of a pasty Wisconsinite who has been hiding in his basement for six months, it releases endorphins.  It’s a little known fact that pasty, winter-blanched Wisconsin skin can turn photons into opium. Your skin gets happy and you start taking off clothing.

Jon, Annie and I were in solo canoes, Brian and Brenna in kayaks.  This was the first time that Brenna had been in a kayak, as she had been an experienced canoeist, camp counselor, etc. etc.  Brenna was a wee bit nervous for about three minutes,  Then she started playing around; learning stuff.  She’s an autodidact kayaker.  And it shows in her smile.  I’m very proud of her.

Brian (our new Level Six rep) paddled another kayak…he had obviously done it before, but not in that boat and not in 40-degree water.  He did great.  It was fun to chat with him as we paddled along.  Learned a lot about his life, his travels as a rep and his family.

Annie (look up cute as a bug in the dictionary and you’ll see her picture) was as always a good sport.  This was her first venture out in a solo canoe.   Jon has been giving her lessons, ignoring the Wisdom of the Ages, which suggests teaching a significant other how to do anything can only result in tears and pain. Annie’s a lesson in humility, readily easy to learn, and Jon is a great teacher.

I love people who are not afraid to try new things.  It doesn’t have to be a big deal unless you make it one, I think.  Trying new things stretches your brain.  Once stretched out you can lay it on the dryer until it dries and then you can leave it there at the new size.  Annie and Jon’s brains are both stretching and you can see it in someone’s eyes when they get it.

Jon and Annie are good together, I think.  They paddle well together, side by side, which is how I prefer to do it.  Side-by-side paddling is much more intimate than bow and stern tandem paddling.  If we were meant to sleep like we often paddle, beds would be 3 feet wide and 16 feet long.  Jon is patient and respectful, Annie humble and soaking it up. I’ve never seen her teach Jon, but my guess is that it’s a similar dynamic.

See?  It doesn’t have to be a battle of egos.  My hat’s off to both of you.

Yes, the water was chilly.  Do you know how cold it was?

Luckily we all missed testing that thing all men hate to test.  For yucks I checked the NEJM to search for something called “The Cold Water Effect: Shrinkage and Recovery.” No such luck.  I guess somethings are meant to be a mystery.

Jon wouldn’t need to worry.  Notice his almost perfect technique.  I say almost perfect because I’m in no position to point out flaws, and I need an out.  Jon’s one of the best technical paddlers I know.  If you want to model a stroke, Jon’s your man.

We spent a nice half-day paddling.  There was no need to get up early, we just moseyed down to the Badfish.  When we got off the water, we were hungry, and the Harmony Bar has just what the doctor ordered — a Blue Burger, hot chips and cheese curds and a nice Becks NA.  At least that’s what my doctor ordered.  Next year, who knows?

Respectfully submitted,

Canoelover