My Happy Place

I've always loved the water. Growing up, summer meant daily swimming lessons at the local pool and returning in the afternoon for the public swim. Visiting my mother's relatives in far northeastern Oregon meant swimming lessons at Radium Hot Springs in Haines with my cousins. Yearly summer camp at the Episcopal church camp in Cove had daily sessions in the hot spring-fed pool  where we'd dive for the smooth black river rocks at the bottom of the deep end.

As kids my brothers and I played for hours in the freezing ocean water off the Oregon coast—it was easy once your legs went numb—and dove into the swimming hole at Cline Falls in the Deschutes. There were myriad camping trips in Central Oregon's Cascades, and diving off rocks into the deep clear waters of alpine lakes.

A town kid, I didn't grow up with boats, but when friends took us out on their double-masted ketch and the engine shut off, the sails unfurled and the only sound was the prow cutting through the water and the wind whipping the rigging, it was as if I'd come home. A writing assignment for NW Palate magazine to go on a paddling tour on Vancouver Island was my first time in a kayak, and I was hooked.

Other opportunities came up over the years, but I'd never seriously considered getting a kayak of my own until recently when my good friend, a serious paddler and boat builder, brought a Craigslist ad to my attention. The Delta 12.10 it offered was one he'd paddled himself, and said it was recommended as a solid boat for novices and experienced paddlers alike. We drove out to take a look at it and, with his blessing—he was planning to buy it for himself if I didn't—she's come home with me.

After yesterday's debut excursion to exquisite Estacada Lake on the Clackamas River, you can be assured there will be many more bulletins to come—she might even whisper her name as we glide through the glassy water. I'll definitely let you know.