When in Rome, Grab a Paddle

One more month to go on my Flatistan Tour of Duty.  I’m going a little crazy. I miss my mountains and motorcycles.  Last week, on my day off, I threw myself onto the bed in a dramatic manner unsurpassed by any 13 year old.  I’m boooooored!  There’s nothing to dooooo here!!!  Pilot Guy suggested my sulking would be more effective if I locked my bedroom door and spent the afternoon drawing unicorns with a sparkly pen in a pink and purple spiral notebook.  “Add a rainbow or two,” he suggested.  It didn’t help.

I really, really need a Florida Friendly Activity.  So yesterday, in an emergency procedure,  I bought an inexpensive “recreational kayak.”

These are my feet, but they are not in my kayak.  This photo is from my
 pre-purchase rental trial day at Delnor-Wiggins State Park. 

Creepy mangrove trail.  I'm not looking forward to my first alligator sighting.
But I have a paddle, and I'm not afraid to use it.

Today I took her for her maiden circumnavigation around my parents’ neighborhood.

Three miles and change, I think.

I noticed a funny thing while paddling around this winding watery racetrack.  When the going got tough (read: headwind),  I unconsciously defaulted to the cornering lines I know best. So far, I corner significantly better on the Ducati than in the kayak. 

Otters, herons, ospreys, ibis, anhingas, a duck with a dozen just-in-time-for-Easter ducklings... all sorts of things to see!




There were some notable comestibles as well.  Plenty of coconuts lined the shore, which prompted me to add "hacksaw and/or hammer?" to my kayak adventure pack list. A few of them had the surprising habit of getting up, walking a few feet, and plopping into the water, at which time I reclassified them as turtles.  And there are some ducks that for all the world look like Barbary ducks, origin of magret, that succulent like-filet-mignon-but-better red meat (yes, red!) duck breast capped with a golden crust of mouthwatering, crispy, fatty skin... oh my!  I could not convince even one of those ducks on board.

But if I ever do, my kayak has little hatch in which to store my magret picnic lunch.

As you can see, my kayak is a shade of orange only a KTM rider could love.
I've no idea what species of waterfowl this specimen is.  Is it time to invest in a waterproof bird book?

Next up, the 99 miles of Wilderness Waterway in Everglades National Park?

For all you Ducati people out there, I call her “The Des-NO*.”  Get it?  I crack myself up.

*For you non-Ducati people out there, Ducatis are known for their proprietary “desmodromic” aka “desmo” valve operating system.  Get it now?  Desmo?  Des-NO? Yeah, I’m that clever.