My First Canoe Trip, And Breaking Up Is Hard To Do... I Know, I know, I know That It's True

Went on my first canoe trip yesterday, and I did a solo. Part of my initiation into newly gained freedom. Not gonna let anybody or anything keep me from doing what I wanna do, anymore. Part of regaining my lost identity. Part of living and breathing, inhale, exhale. 1.7 miles. Was supposed to be 1 1/2 hour trip, finished in about an hour. Since I was the only one paddling, picture taking was out of the question, because the boat kept on moving, making it necessary for me to keep on paddling. Next time, will have a small, lightweight rope with tiny anchor attached to throw across a limb... then again, maybe not... read on.

Speaking of limbs, there were trees across the South Edisto River that I had to pass underneath, numerous times. We're talking black water here, cypress stumps everywhere. The trees were so close to your body that you sometimes touched them to pass underneath. I started my trip out very observant, since the folks who got out of the water, just before I got in, showed me a pic of a HUGE ASS water moccassin that was sunning on one of those limbs one has to pass underneath. They had back paddled and gathered sticks to throw in it's direction, in an attempt to get it to move on, and had said that this had taken forever, before it finally gave in and slithered away. "Great!" I'm thinking, this will have ticked the snake off just enough to make sure I am it's next victim. No small wonder the family of 4 in the canoe ahead of me stopped to let me get ahead. I would be the first lucky one to encounter the deadly beast, should it choose to dive into the first oncoming boat! I had thought it horrible that they had thrown sticks at it, the poor thing! After all, we were invading it's territory. "Are they aggressive?" I had asked, "Will they jump down on you?" What a stupid question, I realized later, once I'd seen where they could lay, and the small space I had to pass, underneath. Wasn't gonna give the snake even a small chance of accidentally slithering off onto my back, no way. I could only hope and pray that my back paddling would be sufficient enough for an emergency stop and full on reverse!













I'd paddled in fishing boats, before. Even paddled a kayak, once. Maybe even a canoe. But not in moving waters. Was interesting, to say the least, getting the knack of paddle strokes. I over stroked in the beginning... until I learned a few paddle movements to gently guide me around the sharp curves. Whhhoooaaa! wwwhooooaaaa!... as I slithered and slided along the way. Was a little freaky, however, at times, when my canoe went a little too close to the bushes, with the memory of that cotton mouth scorched into my brain... wasn't much better when I ran across an unseen log and imagined over turning and being eaten by water mocassins, with all traces gone save a lone, empty canoe floating aimlessly down stream, perhaps discovered by some fishermen I'd encountered, at the end of the long lazy day. What was even more freaky, was when I looked to my left and noticed the family of 4 "across the way". How did they get over there??? They said this was their first trip here! I had taken note of the number of tight spots that I had passed through, and now I was recounting them, as they left me wondering if I might soon run up on some scary and grotesque swamp monster just around the next turn. Had I taken the wrong trail??? I didn't even notice any other, going in this direction! Maybe I should have taken that turn that was going upstream??? Now I'm recalling the term "ox-bow" that those folks had mentioned, the ones who had been kind enough to share the picture they had taken of that lovely snake... or was it ox-bow turn???










The Dock






I was a little disappointed when I saw the dock. Why, I had at least a half hour left, according to the ranger's time keeping. Maybe I should have stopped at that grassy spot where the toilets were, stretched my legs a bit. Oh, well... I could do this again. I slid right up to the dock, then glided right past. Ooops. The dock looked like a set of cement steps, with long aluminum handles attached to the base of two of those steps. One step, I was floating on top of, and there was no way I could reach the handle. The second step was so far away I couldn't reach the handle. Was I suppose to hook my paddle inside that piece of aluminum? Away I went again, after several tries of going in circles. Finally, here comes the family of 4. "I'm having a bit of trouble docking," I said, "Are you supposed to stick your paddle in that silver handle to dock??" I asked. "I don't know," was his reply. "but we'll help you," he said. I moved out of the way so they could dock up. Without a tiny anchor on a rope to throw across that handle, it really did take two to dock this canoe, without falling into the water. Guess I wasn't expecting that. Next time I'll be more prepared? And another thing... this was a two man canoe. I would have faired better in something much shorter. But I don't think a kayak is called for... too easy for snakes to crawl into!

















At the end of the day, I hadn't expected my shorts to be so wet, nor had I expected to make so much noise, banging my paddle against the side of the canoe. I tried very hard to be quiet, but was able to achieve that only ocassionally. What about that guy I had seen gently gliding across the smooth water there, a couple of weekends ago? A little misleading, the put in spot. Just wait till you get around that curve! Then again, maybe all that paddle banging served to forestall any would-be snake attacks.

There was one spot where scores of brightly colored gold finches flew from tree to tree, back and forth across the water, their beautiful songs filling the air. It was worth it, just for that moment. The fact that I couldn't take pictures, because of the fast moving waters, made it all the more special... pure, pristine, unadulterated... with nothing but the ability to simply behold the beauty, saving it's memory in my satisfied mind.

After spending the next hour looking for something else to do before heading back down the trail, towards home, I had to fight back the urge to call my ex-significant other. I wanted to tell him about the gold finches, just in case he might wanna get some shots. He's a pretty good photographer, he has a good eye, and it helps to have a good camera :) After a good long while, I did call. In just a second, I realized it had been a mistake.

Breaking up is really hard to do... but I'm looking forward to my next adventure.