We geared up – we swapped out our shoes for knee-high boots (these came in handy later in the story). We donned a “splash skirt”, which fastens around your middle and around the hole of the kayak that you’re sitting in, to keep water out of your lap (came in handy immediately, although outside the kayak they just looked like large blue diapers) and a life jacket (of course). We left our stuff (except the camera) in bins in the truck for safekeeping. Most people ended up tying their cameras to the shoulders of their life vests and then tucking the camera down the front of the vest to keep it dry.
They said that we should pair up, and that whoever wins all the arguments should be in the back. Michael and I argued over who wins the arguments, and of course I won, so we agreed that I would be in the back. Besides, the front does most of the work, and he is obviously stronger. Then, at the last minute, the guides said that the stronger person should definitely be in the back. So, I was in the front (which led to a few backseat driver, I mean front seat kayaker, comments about his steering).
From the beginning, it was beautiful. The water was cold and green and salty, but the splash skirt kept us dry, and only our hands and arms got dripped on. We went all around the lake, and saw huge pine trees, bald eagles, a seal, and a huge salmon jump to try to get away from the seal. The mountains and the Mendenhall Glacier. And lots of weird seaweed. It was all very cool and beautiful, until we started back to the beach.
To get back to the beach, we had to go against the wind and the current, so the guide told us to paddle beyond the dock and then we’d let the wind and the current sweep us in to where we wanted to go. So we paddled and paddled and paddled and paddled and paddled, and when we looked up, we had not made any headway, nor had any of the other kayaks in our group. We paddled some more, and thought maybe we were going backwards instead of forwards. The guide told us all to turn around, go with the wind and current, towards that green buoy over there. It was so much easier, and we thought she had a plan, like maybe just stopping further down the beach. No. We paddled far away from the dock, and then started over the huge journey against the wind, just closer to the beach this time. We paddled for dear life, getting splashed and soaked, it was freezing, with the wind blowing against us. My sunglasses were soaked, my arms were exhausted, and I was wondering how I would lift my violin the next day. I didn’t have it the worst, though – Michaels splash skirt filled up with water and leaked, soaking his jeans and everything in his pockets.
After a hellish half hour (but seemed like more), we finally made it to the beach. We were far down from where we were supposed to be, but we didn’t care. I was so exhausted it took me a moment to even be able to undo my splash skirt and try to stand up. Once I did, the puddle that had formed in the lap of my skirt dumped down my knees. I was already wet and cold from the waves splashing all over my face that I didn’t even care. I just didn’t want to paddle anymore. The boots were quite useful since we had to get out into the water and pull the boat onto the beach. Unfortunately, since we were so far down, we still had to carry the kayak back to where we started. I couldn’t lift my end. We switched sides, and I still couldn’t lift it. We pushed it back into the water, and Michael waded in up to his knees and walked it back (everything of him that wasn’t soaked already were pretty well taken care of at this point in the story, and when we got to the parking lot, he dumped a significant amount of water from his boots).
The bus ride back was cold and miserable.
But we made it back all right, and took hot showers, and put on warm dry clothes, and then celebrated the survival with cheeseburgers.
Pictures:
The Mendenhall Glacier
The "before" picture!
Michael and I - doing american gothic.
The ladies - Lauren and I (Michael and Chad are not pictured)
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