We’re not what you or anyone would call “in shape”, but neither are we complete slugs. After a lost summer in 2020 (Weather: much too hot; Isabel: too much work), this summer we’ve revitalized our 13-year-old relationship with our kayaks. Hallelujah! We (well, one of us) can still lift the kayaks onto the car and we (usually both of us) can still get in and out, although it ain’t always pretty. And we don’t always stay dry.
As landlubbers, our fixed cost of kayaking is high. The time to lift the kayaks off their garage-wall holders, strap them into their rooftop holders, drive to a watery venue with a reasonably accessible shoreline, lift them off the rooftop holder and into the water, reverse the process when we’re done, offload the kayaks into their garage-wall holders, and stow all the gear – all that is at least half of the 90 minutes or so that we can kayak and still stand up when we finally extricate ourselves. It would all be so much easier if we lived on the water.
Indeed it would, but we don’t. Not now, not ever. And so we do what we can, and look for ways to make it easier so we can keep doing what we can.
Our exits and entrances might not be things of beauty or grace, but the lakes and rivers around Awatto are worth some effort and an occasional dunking. Think of great blue herons, green herons, cormorants, ducks of unknown species, kingfishers, merlins, dragonflies, floating lily pads, and turtles the size of dinner plates and the size of my palm. And endless reflections that tie together the water, land, and sky.
The Olympics are for only a select few, and fewer still actually win anything. By contrast, the Geezer Olympics are open to anyone, there’s something for everybody, and there’s plenty to go around.