Conquering Vertigo

Ramming speed!

As an experienced kayaker -- two oceans, a gulf, several bays and numerous rivers -- I thought a row boat excursion on Stow Lake at Golden Gate Park would be a walk in the park. So to speak.

Ha!
Luckily, Ricky crewed at Georgetown and had small craft experience in the Navy, so Robin's struggles didn't doom us.

If you're unfamiliar with Stow Lake, it is at the top of a hilly ridge in the vaguely central area of Golden Gate Park.

The lake encompasses an island with a tall-ish peak and several smaller islands, and features marvelous bridges, a water fall, a pagoda, lots of wildlife, and a boat house. Even in fog or rain it is beautiful.

The boat house sells concessions, rents an interesting variety of bicycle surreys, and rents boats -- paddle boats, motor boats, and row boats. You're allowed to take dogs (and picnics if you wish) on the row boats, and so on Sunday, the man, the dog and I set out for Stow Lake.

As we stood on the little pier, boathouse workers were winching a motor boat up out of the water -- it had sunk to the bottom just before we arrived. Yet another vote for rowing!

We threw a couple of flotation cushions into the row boat, then I stepped in and sat down in the stern. Bryn jumped in after me, and Richard tossed me the dry bag (camera, wallet, fleece, water bottles, cookies, etc.) before settling himself on the middle seat and picking up the oars.

With deft, sure strokes he propelled us away from the pier and out into the lake. Sitting with his back to the bow and therefore unable to see where we were going, Ricky relied on me to say "starboard," "port," and "paddle-boaters ahead." Spying a small island with a partly submerged tree stretching bare limbs at a convenient height, we tied up the boat and relaxed for a while. Water, cookies, book, crosword puzzle. The dog desperately wanted all the ducks and sea birds paddling by, but she doesn't yet realize she can swim. So she stood alertly on the bow and "pointed."

Before too long (the boat rental is charged by the hour), we unhooked and set off again, Richard still rowing. We passed through one of the arches of a "Roman" stone bridge, then entered the part of the lake where you can see the waterfall on the main middle island.

The cold wind was whipping small waves, and we switched rowers. Immediately, I realized this wasn't like kayaking, and the ease with which Richard had piloted us was based on college crewing and Navy experience. Knowing how to row a boat well is very different than kayaking, even kayaking on the open seas or through river rapids.

And genuine rowing about is nothing like the rowing machine at the gym. We didn't hit anything, anyone, or overturn. In fact, we avoided an out-of-control rowboat and successfully passed under another bridge. But fifteen minutes into my stretch of the rowing, after having spun us inadvertently into yet another 360 circle, I was nearly crying in frustration at my inability to do this well, and ready to switch back.

Richard was very kind. Lots of: "it takes time to learn," "you're used to kayaking, which is very different," and "really, you're doing quite well." Once I was back in the stern seat, and Ricky was skimming us masterfully along, I realized two things:

1. It looked so easy when he did it because he's good at it. (And isn't it a pleasure to watch someone do something well, particularly someone you love?)
2. Next time, I'm bringing a little drum I can beat as I chant "stroke, stroke" while Richard takes us up to ramming speed.

No wet suits needed, Justin, but we did wear fleece.

posted by Woman In Love @ 7:19 AM