My mother took this photo of my niece Rachel and me a couple of days ago:
For a paddler, there's no mission more sacred than the sharing of the sport with the young ones in his life, that they may grow up to be just as eccentric as he.
This morning Mississippi Sound was as placid as it's likely to be this week, so I got up and out for a good steady hour-long paddle to work out the kinks from yesterday's workout. I felt tired in the boat and just tried to relax and take good strokes in the sort-of-choppy water.
My shoulder also hurt a bit--I seem to have strained it, but I don't think I did so paddling. The house we've rented this year has terrible water access for canoes and kayaks: the backyard is some five feet above the water level, requiring paddlers to climb down a vertical concrete retaining wall into their boats. The process is particularly challenging with my tippy surf ski, and I think I've aggravated my shoulder while lowering myself down into the boat at an awkward angle.
I have a feeling beachfront property developers don't think much about paddlers when they build docks and wharves: the dock we have is perfect for a yacht or houseboat but not for any sort of human-powered craft. I also expect that low docks aren't common on a barrier island like this because of the fluctuation of tides. The truth is, I'm a bit spoiled by my situation at home, where I enjoy a nice low dock attached to a floating marina that's always right at water level. I'll be glad to be back there.
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