Problem — I can’t go back to the great divide trail right now. It’s simply not going to happen. On the other hand, I do seem to have twenty days on hand to play with. On the other, other hand, I’m wasting away the time at home with little to show for it. I need a kick in the ass. Unfortunately, all I have is a credit card!
After untold hours on the internet, I settle on a plan. Car. Kayak. Bike. I have the bookends but I need a kayak. A really good husband would discuss this with his wife, but instead, I drove to a sports shop and bought a kayak. If we were rationalizing, we would say that it was about the same cost as roundtrip airfare back to the rockies with a bicycle box both ways. Who’s kidding whom? As midlife crises go, this one is pretty tame. No red miata, no girlfriend. I bought a tandem (two person) that handles well solo and I’m hoping to convince my sweetie that I got it for us. So that we can spend more time together. She’s probably reading this right now! Hi Sweetie!
The best part? I made sure that it actually worked by testing it in the Hudson last night. The Hudson has a pretty strong current, but I’ve read Mark Twain, so I knew that I could minimize the pain of working against the current by staying close to shore. The problem with using fiction for real-life advice is that it’s not always as applicable as you might think. My 15-minute jaunt south turned into a half hour slog back upriver in the gloaming.
I left the next morning for Raystown Lake, PA. Now it’s 24 hours from last nights jaunt in the Hudson and I’ve just spent an hour or so exploring the waters near my tent. I’m still tense, but beginning to unwind. The other attraction here is the mountain bike trail system — 30 odd miles of singletrack. I didn’t even bring the trailer, since I’m using the picnic table by my campsite, and my car, for storage. That means clean clothes for days!
Plan for tomorrow? Kayak. Eat granola bars I baked last night. Drive to coffee. Bike. Eat. Nap. More bike. More kayak. Sleep.