A-Ok(ee)

I arrived to the swamp earlier than I had planned, just before 9am.  I wanted to give myself as much daylight as I could to paddle the 7 miles to my first camp spot.  I had driven through the smears of magenta and orange the evening before as the sun set.  I had glanced at the clock.  5:37pm.  The days were short, the nights long, it was almost the winter solstice, the time when the Northern Pole would begin its slow gravitional tilt towards the sun once again.  But for now, the days were shortening and I had absolutely no idea how long it would take me to paddle that far. 

I had paddled before.  I grew up going to summer camp where I had leared to slice and push the the water with a novice knowledge and skill. In my later years, I had the occasional opportunity throughout my life to practice my skill in a strong adult body.  I swam all summer long, my torso trim and lean, stroke after stroke, toning the muscles.  But I had never paddled as far as that alone.  And in a swamp.  I hoped I could do it.  I knew I would strive to reach that goal in whichever way I could. 

“Now listen,” twanged the park employee with his South Georgian accent checking my canoe before I pushed off, “I don’t want to go messin’ with your stuff, but I think maybe you should move around your things to balance the canoe a bit more.  I don’t want you loosin’ balance and endin’ up in the water,” he chuckled although fatherly concern sat in his eyes.  I was sure he had daughters.  I smiled at him.

“Whatever you think.  I have a feeling you spend a lot of time on this water.”

“Oh yah,” he replied.  “I grew up here.  My wife and I go out all the time,” he told me while organizing the boat to its optimal arrangement.  “Now have you paddled before?”

“Yes.”He nodded his approval.

“So many people come out here never having paddled before.”

“That’s crazy,” I said. “Especially if you’re paddling far.”

“Agree,” he said tying my things down.  “Now you got about 2 miles to the split.  Make sure to stay left.  From there, you go another 5ish miles until you get to the platform.  You feel good?”

“I feel nervous but strong,” I replied.

“Don’t worry, you got this.  Most people average 2 miles every hour.”  He saw me into the boat, helped me push off, and watched with parental concern as I took my first few strokes.  By the time I had taken my 3^rd stroke, there was no longer the feeling of fear, but the feeling of adventure.  With a few more strokes, I disappeared behind an island of cedar tress and hanging Spanish moss.