It’s been a tradition of several years’ standing that I kayak on July 4. My most faithful partner in this activity is Chris, but this year he didn’t visit River House; and I wondered if my holiday ritual was in jeopardy.
Enter Pat and Frank, a couple who takes the same fitness class I do. Turns out they are avid kayakers, as I learned one morning while we were all trying to master various weight lifting machines. We exchanged emails — doesn’t anyone exchange telephone numbers anymore? — and the rest, as they say, is boating history.
This morning we put our flotilla of kayaks in the water about six miles upriver from our house — you want to paddle downriver whenever possible — and got out at our dock where Earl was waiting. Along the way we looked for herons without success. In fact, the only wildlife we saw was one complacent duck. Even the bugs were on holiday.
I don’t believe I mentioned my Fourth of July tradition to Pat and Frank; rather, it was serendipity at work that I got to kayak today. And we’re already making plans to do it again. So an old tradition may now have new life breathed into it.
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