Got out in the kayak this morning and did 4.69 km, according to my little watch gizmo. Two things about that. One is that my whole route around the island is just over 5 km, so I'm working towards that goal. I think maybe tomorrow I could go all the way around?
The other is that I actually went a bit further than I intended because at one point I got disoriented. Not lost, exactly. I've been exploring other shorter routes in my quest to build up my abdominal stamina, and this morning I ventured out and around a different island I'd never navigated before. It looked exactly farther enough away to push me just a little, but also close enough to home for me to easily make my way back. No problem.
But islands can look a very different shape from one side of them to the other. And the cottage properties, the docks and such, are not familiar to me, so no reference points there. The rising sun is a pretty good orientation, and I knew the general direction I should be heading. But I caught myself in a dead end that I expected to open up to where I wanted to be. It didn't.
You need to know that a fear I've had to overcome in my Georgian Bay life is getting lost in the array of islands that, when you aren't familiar with them, for all intents and purposes, look exactly the same. Water, rocks, trees. I don't think island dwellers who were brought here as babies have this fear. It's just instinctive for them. But for me, arriving at the post-instinct-absorbing age of 16 years, it was a thing.
Learning to get from the marina to our cottage all on my own (thank you MIL Mary B for insisting) really pushed me past that fear, and it's been a long time now since I've even thought about it.
But this morning there was a flicker. A moment of wondering if I really got lost, how would I make it back home?
Writing now from the comfort of my lounge chair on the deck, all is good. I was just fine. Had the presence of mind just to turn around and reroute myself until, oh yes, there is it, I found the other side of that island and headed for home all la-dee-da-nothing's-happening-here-that's-exactly-where-I-meant-to-go. And I had the guts to do it, and by this I'm talking again about my abdominal core (yes, still talking about that eight weeks out!), and not the risk factor involved.
Truth is, I take my phone with me. And I know Ken would, in a heartbeat, come find me (with those island baby instincts of his) with the Big Boat and bring me home.
And yes, there's a life lesson in there, of course there is.
Luke 15 is a trilogy of parables about lost things. One sheep out of 100, one coin out of ten, one son out of two. And in every story there is an all out effort to find and bring home.
In a heartbeat.
Got me some Monday morning blue jay action happening on the deck. I was hoping to post a picture of a very young one that is, for some reason, not as skittish of me as the others. At least I think he's young. Not quite as blue and still a bit scruffy around the edges. But even though he's a tad more relaxed, I still couldn't get him to pose for a picture. Kids these days!
So happy Monday to you!
I'll let you know if I make it around the island tomorrow!!!
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