Adventures in Night Kayaking

            As hinted in my last post, night kayaking has occurred and it was fantastic. I joined a group going paddling with Atlantic Sea Kayaking on the edge of an inlet just as the sun had set. We piled on layers, including waterproof-trouser-suspender-type-jobs, a waterproof jacket, life vest and a spray skirt that fits over the cockpit and keeps your legs dry, then, with a short lesson on how to hold your paddle, headed for the boats. Everyone but the two guides were in double kayaks, and I was paired with Matthew, whose face I must have seen for approximately 30 seconds, but who was a really lovely guy and an experienced instructor at another business down the coast. According to one of our guides, he was "alright, unless you let him listen to techno music." I gladly let him steer, and he proceeded mostly on course but occasionally bearing down full speed on buoys, rocking the kayak, challenging me to row as fast as I could, turning us around so we could row backwards, and pondering whether, as rumor had it, swans could break a person's arm with their beak (we saw three swans, all apparently unfazed by our presence, but very possibly doing some devious scheming).

            Light disappeared early on in our 2.5 hour trip, fading until the main points visible were the skyline, the lights on piers and of the houses in nearby Castletownshend, the neon vests worn by those steering, and most importantly, the red headlamps of our guides, one flashing, one steady. Every so often, the guides would gather us to speak about a point of interest, such as the nearby Spanish graves or the castle where the ghost of a pirate is said to appear punctually on such-and-such a day every year. Mostly, though, we were just paddling, past caves that sucked the water in and spat it out again, past moored boats and indistinct trees. Then, at one point, the dip of our paddles in the water began to stir up tiny trails of shimmer --bioluminescent plankton that flash when the water is disturbed. Close to the shoreline, as the night grew darker, the plankton were plentiful, sparkling in great clouds when you pulled your paddle deep, and winking along the ripples if you skimmed the water or sent splashes along the surface. Tiny underwater constellations. We would get so distracted flipping our paddles beneath the water that we would bump into trees that had toppled at the water's edge, or ram passing fellow kayaks.

            All in all a wonderful evening, and tomorrow I pay for it with a few hours gardening. A good deal, I reckon.