On an average day, I put on a suit and tie, jump in the car, and drive to work. At the day's end I loosen my tie, get back in the car, and drive home. This ritual does not demand much of me, physically or mentally. Paddle commuting is different, and not just in terms of physical exertion. Paddle commuting requires forethought. Some might say this is not my strong suit.
On the afternoon of Monday, June 6 my schedule was filled with meetings. By the time they were all wrapped up, it was late and I was tired. Perhaps it wasn't the best day for river commuting. So I got a ride home from a co-worker who lives in my neighborhood.
On the morning of Monday, June 13, I woke up eager to paddle to work. Unfortunately, my boat was already at work because I hadn't paddled it home yet and instead left it at Thompson Boat Center all week. Fortunately, a neighbor right across the street (not the ride-home-giving co-worker neighbor) had previously offered me the use of his kayak whenever I needed it (nice neighbors, right?). At the time, I saw no need to borrow his boat because it is the same model as my own, only blue. But on this morning, it was the same model as my own, only...available. Once again, good neighbors had overcome bad planning!
It was a beautiful early summer morning, and I was looking forward to soaking in the sights and sounds of the Potomac. On my way home from walking my kids to school, I gratefully picked up my neighbor's boat. Shortly thereafter, I was on the canal heading downstream and downtown.
Arriving at Fletcher's, I pulled the blue kayak out of the canal and carried it down towards the river at Fletcher's Cove. Walking out on the dock with the boat on my shoulder, I felt the urge to check my Blackberry to review my schedule for the day. Hmmm...it appears that I have a meeting in just under an hour...and I still need to paddle from Fletcher's to Thompson, stow the boat, walk the rest of the way to my office, shower and put on a suit, pull together what I need for the meeting, and get to the meeting on time. Hmmm...forethought...might not be my strong suit.
Just then, my next door neighbor pulled up to the dock in one of those flat-bottomed fan boats like you take on alligator-hunting expeditions in the Everglades, and offered to tow me in to Foggy Bottom. That last part wasn't true. You are not allowed to hunt alligators in the Everglades. Oh, and my neighbor doesn't have one of those boats either. I only wish he did. This time there was no neighbor to save me from myself.
The only sights and sounds I can recall from this morning's ride are: 1) my watch, and 2) my panting.
Upon my breathless arrival at Thompson, I hauled the blue kayak inside the boathouse only to find a yellow kayak already in my rack. Hmmm...can two kayaks fit in one rack space? Barely. Phew. Now if I keep hustling, I just might make it to my meeting on time.
As I took my place at the conference table with minutes to spare I was filled with an irrational, private self-satisfaction. Then a thought occurred to me. Hmmm...now I have two kayaks at work and none at home. I'm going to need to give this situation some thought.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Day four, Monday, June 6, 2011 - Free Fishing Day
I am not a fisherman, nor do I play one on TV. So, I was not aware that as part of National Fishing and Boating Week, June 6 is a "free fishing day" - a day on which a person may legally fish in the District of Columbia without a fishing license. And there I was, up the river without a tackle box.
When I arrived at Fletcher's Boat House and pulled my boat out of the canal, I immediately saw more activity than usual: at the bait and snack concession, on the dock, and on the water. I carried my kayak down to the dock, and as I set it in the water of Fletcher's Cove I was disheartened to see much more trash than usual bobbing on the surface. Looking out on the river, I could see no fewer than a dozen red, rental rowboats full of fishermen with their lines in the water. Not being a fisherman myself, I jumped to the conclusion that fishing season had begun, and that I would be encountering this level of activity all summer long. On one hand, I was pleased to see so many people out enjoying the river at 8:30 on a Monday morning. On the other hand, I was sad to see so many people simultaneously appreciating and depreciating their river. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?
(music swells) It's like ray-i-ain on your weddin' day...it's a free-ee ri-ee-i-ide when you've already paid...it's the good advice, that you just didn't take...and who would've thought, it figures. (music fades) Alanis Morissette flashback. My apologies.
Paddling out of Fletcher's Cove into the river channel, the boats thinned out quickly. By the time I rounded the first bend downstream, there were very few rowboats in sight. Soon, I had returned to the familiar solitude of the Potomac. While it is possible that the best fishing is right in Fletcher's Cove, I suspect that this morning's crowd was simply in no shape to row too far to catch a fish. They didn't bear much resemblance to the rowers I typically pass, skimming by in sleek skulls. I'm just sayin'.
Continuing downstream, I was troubled by the thought of encountering this garbage-strewn congestion all summer long. And, I was concerned for the river itself. I determined to get on the web and look into the duration of fishing season as soon as I arrived at my desk. In the meantime, I would enjoy the beautiful morning.
Most notable this day were the families of ducks and geese. It must be that May is the time for Make Way for Ducklings-style cute lines of fuzzy baby birds trailing behind their mamas. June turns out to be the time of avian adolescence. Gangly, mottled goose and duck teens were hanging around with their parents on the shore, the rocks, and the water. They didn't travel in coordinated lines, but rather in loose groupings with some straying off on their own, some mixing in with other groups, and many just lounging in the sun - napping, chattering, bickering. They were a lot like human teens without Facebook...and with beaks.
When I eventually arrived at Thompson Boat Center I saw rowers, and no fishermen. I racked my boat, walked up the street to my office, turned on my computer, opened a browser window, and Googled "DC fishing season." The first page to come up was "Fishing in the District" on the District Department of the Environment website. You already know the punchline. I learned that it was "free fishing day"- not the start of fishing season and a months-long assault on the river and its finny inhabitants.
Having had "free fishing day" sprung on me like this, I now find myself terrified of searching for a street spot on "free parking day," walking through Rock Creek Park on "free hunting day," and of being groomed by a lowland gorilla on "free the animals in National Zoo day." You just never know what to expect in the Nation's Capital.
When I arrived at Fletcher's Boat House and pulled my boat out of the canal, I immediately saw more activity than usual: at the bait and snack concession, on the dock, and on the water. I carried my kayak down to the dock, and as I set it in the water of Fletcher's Cove I was disheartened to see much more trash than usual bobbing on the surface. Looking out on the river, I could see no fewer than a dozen red, rental rowboats full of fishermen with their lines in the water. Not being a fisherman myself, I jumped to the conclusion that fishing season had begun, and that I would be encountering this level of activity all summer long. On one hand, I was pleased to see so many people out enjoying the river at 8:30 on a Monday morning. On the other hand, I was sad to see so many people simultaneously appreciating and depreciating their river. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?
(music swells) It's like ray-i-ain on your weddin' day...it's a free-ee ri-ee-i-ide when you've already paid...it's the good advice, that you just didn't take...and who would've thought, it figures. (music fades) Alanis Morissette flashback. My apologies.
Paddling out of Fletcher's Cove into the river channel, the boats thinned out quickly. By the time I rounded the first bend downstream, there were very few rowboats in sight. Soon, I had returned to the familiar solitude of the Potomac. While it is possible that the best fishing is right in Fletcher's Cove, I suspect that this morning's crowd was simply in no shape to row too far to catch a fish. They didn't bear much resemblance to the rowers I typically pass, skimming by in sleek skulls. I'm just sayin'.
Continuing downstream, I was troubled by the thought of encountering this garbage-strewn congestion all summer long. And, I was concerned for the river itself. I determined to get on the web and look into the duration of fishing season as soon as I arrived at my desk. In the meantime, I would enjoy the beautiful morning.
Most notable this day were the families of ducks and geese. It must be that May is the time for Make Way for Ducklings-style cute lines of fuzzy baby birds trailing behind their mamas. June turns out to be the time of avian adolescence. Gangly, mottled goose and duck teens were hanging around with their parents on the shore, the rocks, and the water. They didn't travel in coordinated lines, but rather in loose groupings with some straying off on their own, some mixing in with other groups, and many just lounging in the sun - napping, chattering, bickering. They were a lot like human teens without Facebook...and with beaks.
When I eventually arrived at Thompson Boat Center I saw rowers, and no fishermen. I racked my boat, walked up the street to my office, turned on my computer, opened a browser window, and Googled "DC fishing season." The first page to come up was "Fishing in the District" on the District Department of the Environment website. You already know the punchline. I learned that it was "free fishing day"- not the start of fishing season and a months-long assault on the river and its finny inhabitants.
Having had "free fishing day" sprung on me like this, I now find myself terrified of searching for a street spot on "free parking day," walking through Rock Creek Park on "free hunting day," and of being groomed by a lowland gorilla on "free the animals in National Zoo day." You just never know what to expect in the Nation's Capital.
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