These kayaks have been sitting on my my dad’s balcony for what seems like ten years, resting in the sun and dreaming of the three or four times we actually used them. They had that terrible air of lost potential, a hobby picked up and dropped within moments.
But today we gave them life again, and with more vivacity than before. Rather than paddling around the stagnant waters of Aquatic Park, we braved the flow of the bay, a broad expanse of rippling green-gray. Anton here is sheltered from the waves by the marina, but further out we could really feel the ocean roll. The water came in perfect cosines, our kayaks hopping over the peaks and digging into the troughs of each wave, and thin skins of the sea slid over the nose of the boat as it came up to point at the sky again.
We tried to paddle out to Emeryville, but halfway there we found ourselves growing tired in a vast emptiness. We turned back before our arms gave out, but perhaps we can make the journey another day.
When we returned to shore and the sun dried us off, the seawater left behind specks of salt on my arms.
My dad seems very excited about the prospect of navigating the waves, so we will have to return soon.
Sounds like a really good time!
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