A leap of faith

I’m leaving for a kayak trip on Lake Huron tomorrow with some friends. I had announced it on our paddling club’s web site, noting that a participant should have some experience with open water crossings. From some of the responses, I knew that wasn’t a universally understood term.

About six years ago, I signed up for a kayaking event around an island on Lake Erie. As I approached the shore, a storm intensified and it appeared they might cancel ferry service to the island. I watched the large craft approach the dock and noted it was tossed around like a cork. I made the last trip before they suspended operations and it was an adventure in itself.

The next day, the seas weren’t much calmer and three quarters of the paddlers dropped out. I was among those who paddled. I recall my mouth getting so dry that my tongue stuck to its roof. We were all quite pleased with ourselves for braving the tumultuous waves, even though we were almost always within a tee shot of shore. I still thought that was really something.

It was nothing. A few years later, I would make my first open water crossing. I don’t know what the accepted standard definition is but it entails covering a significant distance between land masses on big water. My definition is a leap of faith.

Aside from navigation, little more is required in the way of skills than paddling a bit offshore. It’s more of a confidence or psychological thing. Can you keep it together for the time you’re well between the rocks with no safe harbor? Are you able to maintain your poise when a storm or rogue wave might be just over the horizon and there’s nowhere to hide?

That’s what I meant when I posted the event. I don’t care if you have the endurance to paddle a few miles. What I want to know, and the group needs to know, is if you can handle the pressure when the going gets tough out there.

On the plus side, there is a great feeling of satisfaction in putting to sea. Now that is something.