Don't Fall In!

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Flamingo Marina, Everglades National Park

Should we, or shouldn't we? Those were the questions. They bedeviled poor Joan for the last week, disturbing her sleep, occupying her wakeful hours, until they became such an obsession that she was developing anxiety disorders just thinking about it.

You see, Joan has a thing about water. Its not a particularly rational thing, but it is a thing that affects her abilities to enjoy certain activities. She does not like getting in or on water that she can't see the bottom of. So, for example, she might wade through the surf at Gulf Islands because she can, by golly, see the sand underneath. But the waters in the Everglades - dark with mangrove tannins that turn the water into the color of hot chocolate with maybe a little brandy in it - well you can forget that.

So all week long Joan has been looking at those murky waters and then at the canoes and wondering just whether those three things might ever come together. She approached cautiously, first having a long conversation with the guy at the canoe rental place about how it works. How do two people who have never been in a boat and never paddled anywhere outside the bath tub, do such a thing. Would there be a problem when our sizes are so radically different? What do people do if they fall into that canal, full of snakes, crocodiles, and manatees - what, pray tell, would we do. (To that last question, the boat guy looked at me and said, well you make him stand up and you get on his shoulders - the canal is only five or six feet deep!)

As Joan is want to do, she collected all this information and mulled it over. Was she going to yield to her fears and never try this daunting experience, or would she summon the courage and finally get in a boat?

Yesterday was getting to be decision-time because we would soon be leaving the Everglades. There might be other opportunities to canoe, but she'd have to go through the whole process all over again. So like she does every now and then, she reached down into her bucket of courage and pulled up enough to say we were going to rent the damn canoe. Armed with that bucket of courage and some bug spray, we drove over to the marina and plunked down the credit card for two hours time in the boat.

That was the easy part. Then we had to actually get into it. The boat rental guy gave us life vests and said that, although we didn't have to wear them, we had to have them in the boat. Joan asked what happens if we fall in and he said that the crocodiles don't like animals as big as me, so we'd be fine. (Joan noted that she wasn't as big as me, but he avoided that question.) So, with the guy holding the boat against the dock to stabilize it, Joan tried to figure out how to get in. We decided that she would take the front seat, and I would take the rear, mostly because the rear seat was bigger. Some canoeists, of course, sit on their knees in the bottom of the thing, probably because it adds stability, but there was no way either of us had the knees to do that for more than about 30 seconds. So it was the butt-in-the-seat approach.

Joan finally figures out that she should sit on the dock and sort of slide her butt off the dock and into the chair, rather than try to step into the boat. Once in the seat the boat wobbled a bit and I thought she would bound back onto the dock, but she didn't. And I tried to repeat the process using my over-size butt. Unfortunately, I didn't get it centered on the seat right off and so I had to shift my weight a bit. That sent Joan into a tizzy saying that she would never forgive me if I dumped her into the brink. I promised I wouldn't do it on purpose, which didn't exactly soothe her anxiety. The dockhand gave us our oars - a big one for me and a little one for Joan and gave us a gentle shove off the dock. That was it - no instruction, no guidance, just a sly little 'You'll figure it out!' Followed by a grin.

There was a slight breeze that pushed us down the canal a bit. So we thought we were doing really well. But honestly, we probably looked hilarious as Joan, afraid that looking at me would topple the boat, kept yelling 'OK which side are you paddling on now!'. I tried to tell her that she should paddle on the side opposite the direction she wanted the boat to go and that I would follow her lead and try to keep the boat headed in the right direction. It took us about twenty minutes and three times running into the mangrove trees before we sort of figured it out. I figured out that by simply sticking the oar in the water and holding it there broadside, I could get the boat to make a fairly dramatic turn. But nothing seemed to work when a gust of wind caught us and the wind seemed to change directions frequently. Once we had to paddle furiously to keep from getting entangled in the mangrove roots.

But we did! Although it was comical, I think we ended up figuring it out. We went down one side of the canal about a half-mile and then paddled back up to the dock. We, feeling very confident in our abilities, were going to go out into the bay, but the dockhand said the winds were probably a bit too much for us at that point (Had he been watching us??) So we paddled back down the canal, a little further this time and had a dickens of a time getting back through the tunnel created by the highway bridge.

On our travels, the water was as opaque as it could be, so we don't have the faintest idea what was below us - that was probably a good thing. We did see a crocodile sunning itself on the edge of the canal. Unfortunately, he wasn't there when we returned prompting Joan to ask whether he could be under us. 'Of course he could'. I said. She didn't like that answer. And she wondered whether a manatee could surface and cause us to overturn. Possibly, but not too likely.

Joan did enjoy the encounter with another crocodile who was swimming up the channel, while we were going down. Right there on the water, with his mouth, head, back and tail clearly visible, he looked at her as we went past. Joan had her 'close encounter' with no negative consequences.

One thing that did concern us was the power boats coming up and down the channel. Usually Joan would just shout out 'Student Driver', and the boaters would realize they had to be careful. They are supposed to be wakeless just so us canoe novices can stay above water. Most of them were thoughtful. But one of them seemed to ignore that little rule and so we frantically turned the boat to meet the wake head on. Not sure what would have happened if it had hit us sideways...

So after about an hour and a half of rowing up and down this little canal and marina, we decided we had seen the canal and its resident crocodiles close enough and our backs and shoulders were getting a bit sore. (My legs were cramping and falling asleep, so I was in a bit of pain.). We fought our way against a stiff breeze back to the dock and traded in our oars for the credit card.

Joan frequently amazes me with how she conquers her fears. And now, at least under controlled circumstances, we can add canoeing to our ways of exploring a park. And Joan has another notch on her belt of accomplishments. (17.1.30)

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Photos

IMG_0365
Joan Paddling Like a Pro

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There's a Crocodile in those Mangrove Roots

IMG_0368
Later we ran into those.

Comments

[MIckey]

Oars to Credit Card
Love your blog with all the details. Funny too