They say the surface of the earth is three fourths water. Of course I have no way of proving or disproving that fact. So whoever ‘they’ are, I’ll take ‘their’ word for it.

I started my adventure of the 75% the summer I turned six. I was at a YMCA camp and took a Red Cross canoe course. To pass the course, you needed to accomplish a number of tasks. Paddling between buoys, paddling in a straight line; forwards and backwards. Draw strokes, sweeps, they all needed to be done correctly. I passed. All who passed got to go on an overnight whitewater trip on a local river. I was hooked. For life.

The past few years I haven’t paddled much. Happenstance I suppose. This summer the water drew me back in. Of all the different types of boats and rivers and lakes and oceans that I’ve paddled, a solo canoe has always been at my heart and soul. Maybe because at six years old, it was my first experience in a little boat. I don’t know. There’s something about gliding past a pair of nesting Bald Eagles as they watch intently. Maybe it’s watching a Kingfisher catch breakfast on the fly. The benignity of a small efficient boat and the approachability of one quiet person on the water. Who knows. It works for me.