Inflatable Kayak Blog

By Guest Author: Dee Owens

Taking the family pet kayaking is becoming a more and more popular family sport. What is your dog if not a part of your family? Before you load up your inflatable kayak and head to the water there are a few things that you need to do first.

Your first thought is probably whether ‘Fido’s’ toenails will damage your inflatable. It should be a concern but unless they are super sharp, most of the higher quality kayaks made today will stand up to the challenge. Putting down an old piece of carpet can help ease your mind as well.

One really nice thing about inflatable kayaks is that, unlike hard shell enclosed style kayaks (where your pet would not be able to join you) or hard shell sit-on-top kayaks which have no sides, the side chambers of an inflatable kayak make like walls, similar to how a canoe is designed. It’s a perfect setup for both of you.

Most inflatable kayaks will be able to hold the weight of you and your dog, but your should check to be sure. Two person inflatable kayaks shouldn’t be an issue, however those that are made for solo use may.  If the kayak is too small then you can run into complications such as capsizing the kayak. That can be avoided by a “cargo canoe”, a small craft that will attach to the back of the kayak.

Next on the list is to make sure that you and your pet have a Portable Flotation Device, also known as a Life Jacket. Buying the right life jacket for your pet is extremely important, it can be the difference between a fun filled day on the water or not. Also be sure to have a harness for your pet. This will allow you to get your pet back into the water easier if he or she jumps out.

Take your time and chose a location where the water is calm and the weather favorable. Choppy waters are not the best idea for taking your dog with you at any time. Once you know where you are going, it is time to take the pet out onto the water. Take it slowly with your dog the first time and practice commands before going out. You want to know that if you tell him or her to sit they will without delay. Spend time allowing your pet to get used to riding in the kayak as well, remember this is their first trip out with you and they might be a wee bit apprehensive or slightly over excited.

When you feel comfortable with your pet in the kayak, then it’s time to plan your day trip. Take some of their favorite treats with you so you can reward them throughout the day for their good behavior. Always remember to not over tire yourself or your dog, kayaking with your pet is meant to be a fun, relaxing day for you both.

The Author, Dee Owens has published two novels and a variety of articles online.

by Vivian Miller (Guest Author)

When you go swimming with your children and you catch yourself packing a fishing pole and bait that is a sure sign that you are hooked on fishing. The good news is that there are no 12 step programs for this addiction only one step program, acceptance. After you reach this step there are many helpful tools out there to make your outings more worthy of bragging to your support group (Fellow fishing addicts). Many of these tools are free. It is a rather cheap addiction.

The first thing you will need to do is get your fishing license. You are not required to obtain this if you are under the age of 16 or if you are legally blind or disabled. I would still stop at my local dept of wild life and game to find out what papers I should carry with me to prove this. This way I can be sure to avoid the dreaded ticket for fishing without a license. They will be able to answer any questions you have about your local laws seeing as they are the ones we rely on to enforce them.

Next is your standard paraphernalia, also known as tackle. Luckily not all addicts are after the same fish so your tackle will vary slightly from one angler to the next. If you are already admitted addicts (anglers) then you probably already know the fish that gets your heart pumping when it is at the end of your line. This will help you in picking out your paraphernalia.

Let’s start first by discussing the ever important pole that you will need to pick out. An ultra light rod is great for trout or the ever abundant brim. However I would not hit the rivers in search of catfish with this rod. If you do you will find yourself going home with broken dreams and a broken rod. For this kind of the river I would go with a medium heavy duty to a heavy duty rod. They are more substantial and able to withstand the pull of the current and the fight of a heavy and well muscled fish on the end of it. If small mouths are what gets your motor running then you will want a medium pole. They give a good fight and this pole will make it lots of fun to reel them in without missing the bite all together like you would on a larger pole. You also want to think about the type of water you will be in. The stronger the current the longer the rod is a good rule of thumb.

Live bait is great however you should check with your local conservation dept. Some live bait can harm your favorite fishing spot if it is not native to the water source you are fishing. Also live bait does not do well in your tackle box in the trunk for weeks. So I would find an alternative to keep in your tackle box long term. Lures and rubber worms do well so does stink bait. Do not give up on the live bait though. It is a great thing to have in your arsenal for a well planned fishing trip; however, your more durable baits that stay in your tackle box are great for the unexpected fishing fixes on the fly.

On a side note … you may be content to fish from shore during these “addiction attacks”, but for those who really need to get out on the water, there’s always the handy dandy inflatable fishing boat that can be easily stored in your car trunk and inflates via foot pump in less than ten minutes.

I hope this has helped all my fellow addicts to take that all important and last step in our program: Acceptance.

Safety should be a top concern anytime you’re on the water, no matter what type of boat you are in. Personally I believe that you should “think safety” first because attitude is a key component to any endeavor. Then you need to think about gear. A properly fitting life jacket isn’t the only kayak accessory you should consider. Other items like alert whistles, first aid kits, tow lines, dry bags and paddle leashes might be needed depending on the type of kayaking you’ll be doing.

Matt Preye is a kayaking expert and instructor with fifteen years of experience as a recreational and a whitewater kayaker. He made this video about kayak safety gear that every kayaker should watch. Even though he’s talking about hard shell kayaks, remember that all these safety tips apply to folding and inflatable kayaks as well.

(Candace Clayton is an author who’s written novels, poetry and other short stories. She was kind enough to write this fictional adventure series specifically for the Inflatable Kayak Blog about ‘The Traveling Man’, a kayaker who tells us tales about his youthful adventures with his buddies on the rivers where he grew up. We hope you enjoy it!)

When last we met up with The Traveling Man and his buddy, John, they had gone fishing with Ed. John fell off the pontoon and saw a mysterious creature in the water. Thinking it was the mermaid who started their adventures, both young men searched to no avail. Once they had climbed back on the boat with Ed, he told them the sad legend of the young Indian Maiden, Talulah, the first mermaid. Let’s rejoin The Traveling Man and see where his quest takes him next.

Louisiana Swamp …

Well, Howdy Friends! Ain’t it just a beautiful day? Perfect fishing weather, I said to myself this morning. I grabbed my pole and my bait can and headed down to this here river. Oh, I see you youngsters are going river kayaking. Back in my day, I spent many a hour river kayaking. It’s a glorious way to travel. Yep, lots to see from a kayak. I remember back, just like it was yesterday.

My buddy, John and I were paddling in the swamps of Louisiana in an old two-person, or tandem kayak. We were looking for adventure, excitement, and a mermaid. What? You don’t believe in mermaids. Well, you ain’t spent near enough time on the water then! Course, we didn’t figure that mermaid would be in the swamps, but we wanted to see what it was like in there. Being young and pig headed, we didn’t reckon we’d need ourselves a guide. No sirree! We could make our own way.

John and I had been nosing around in those swamps for a good 5 hours afore we admitted we was lost.  Plum lost. Had no clue where we were going or where we’d been. So, we kept paddling that kayak. Up and down the byways of that stinky swamp. We were alright until it started getting dark on us. Then our hard headedness turned to downright stupidity. What were we thinking? Without a clue of where we were, it looked like we would be staying the night in the swamp.

Yeah, we had camped in some wild places, but this was a might too wild in my thinking. We could see the glowing eyes of the gaters watching us as we paddled by them. Every now and then we could make out a snake as it slithered across the water.

The sun disappeared and it got darker. We determined we would keep going; surely, there was a cabin in here where we could stop for the night. By the light of our lantern, we made our way through the dark swamp.

After what seemed like eternity, we finally saw something. Couldn’t make out what it was from where we was at, so we closed the distance in a hurry. When we were close enough, we saw the mouth of a cave.

That cave was better than sleeping in the kayak, so we headed to the opening and floated inside. Just when we thought the worst was over, the boat hit something in the water and our lantern fell overboard! Yep, there we were in this cave in the pitch dark of night.

John peered over the side and tried to feel his way to the bank, but the kayak hit something again, making us both jump. Wait, we weren’t hitting something. Something was hitting us…. Hard!

Will The Traveling Man and John get out of the swamp? What was bumping into their kayak? Come back next month to find out.

(If you’d like, you can set your computer to receive our RSS feed and you’ll be informed automatically when the next part of the story will be posted. If you’re not sure, click here to learn how to subscribe to an RSS feed)

The author, Candace Clayton, lives in Granbury, Texas with her Husband and family, spending as much time in the outdoors as she can.

Space – Today for many of us space is in short supply. Our “Space” is what will fit in the garage and what we can make room for in the car.

I currently live in a one bedroom apartment with very little storage space. My boat lives in my parents garage, a fact that my mother has been known to remind me of with annoying regularity. I dread that certain tone that comes into her voice when she decides to raise the topic of how much room I have taken up in her garage with my boat. It would be wonderful to be able to enjoy my boat here in California and give my parents back their space, but with a wooden boat that will not happen.

It’s Springtime. The weather is warm, the fish are swimming, and I’m longing to get out on the lake with my rod and reel. Fishing is a call to the water, the wind, the sun, and even the rain. But as you recall, my tried and true companion is back in New Jersey in my mom’s garage.

After lamenting to my best friend about my situation, he asked if I’d ever considered an inflatable boat. “Inflatable boat? Isn’t that designation reserved for life rafts?” I asked. My part adventurer, part professor pal proceeded to educate me on the features and benefits of Inflatable boats.

Inflatable Boats offer their owners:
- Easier transportation ( They do not require a trailer)
- During the off season there is no need for a boat cover
- Inflatable fishing boats save space (In the garage, storage unit, car)
- Smaller boats can easily be carried by a single person before (and often, after) inflation
- Inflation time and weight varies from boat to boat
- Inflatable boats can carry several adults, work well with fairly large gas outboard motors, and some can be used for up to class three white water

For me the biggest issues with my current boat are Transportation and Space. Transportation because my boat is currently residing in New Jersey while I live clear across the country in California. Space, because the available storage in my apartment is minimal both inside and out.

My vacations no longer involved traveling with my boat. They require traveling thousands of miles TO my boat. In my move across the country, finances made involving a boat trailer impossible.

After talking to my best bud, it seemed like I’d found my spring fever reliever. Inflatables offer benefits that make them, in my opinion, a perfect fit for our modern lives. An inflatable fishing boat meets all of the needs of the owner with none of the downsides you can have with their wooden or metal) counterparts. I could get back to the luxury of a boat that I can enjoy with less expense, greater ease, and fits conveniently in apartment storage.

Inquiring minds wants to know… is YOUR boat a good fit for your modern lifestyle?

Innova Kayaks have always been on the cutting edge of creativity with their award winning Helios and Seaker inflatable kayaks and their use of Nitrylon™ and the ultra light LitePack™ materials, which are both PVC free.

The latest Innova innovation is the “Twist” kayak. The “Twist” is made exclusively out of the LitePack™ material, a rip-stop polyester fabric with a coating of natural rubbers on the interior for great air retention, which makes it the lightest, greenest, general recreation kayak on the market. The solo version of the Twist weighs only 16 pounds, the tandem version is 23 pounds. Both come in a nylon bag about the size of a small sleeping bag sack, great for back packing.

Another unique twist to the “Twist” is that the solo version is available in a camo color as well as a yellow/gray combination. Fishermen and hunters might like the camo “Twist” not only for the color but for the speed of paddling a kayak compared to rowing a one man inflatable pontoon or foot paddling a float tube. The tandem version comes in the yellow/gray and a blue/gray, but not the camo color.

The styling of the “Twist” is totally in line with the detailing of the higher priced Innova kayaks. The three main chambers have new high-quality bayonet-style valves and the “Twist” kayak is designed to be able to be paddled to shore in the unlikely event that any one of its chambers loses air. A substantial, removable tracking fin is included and gear bungees are installed behind the seat. Best of all the solo Innova Twist inflatable kayak is under $500 and the tandem version is under $600.

Webster defines kayak as “man’s boat.” It is interesting in this politically correct world that you would find a definition using such a connotation.

But, alas it is springtime and the romance at this change of season leads one to thinking. What should I do now since spring has sprung? Some would say I’m too old for such an adventure but “too old” is not in my vocabulary.

The long winter cold nights are only a memory and the love of nature and the beauty it beckons await the “man” and his boat. Where to vacation is as broad a spectrum as the types of kayak available. Should one consider the overdue fishing trip or a white-water adventure?  Would a gentle path for the casual paddler coupled with viewing the beauty of nature be best? So many decisions and what delight in the process of planning the “man” trip now that spring time has emerged.

Memory of past trips reminds me of bouncing off rocks as the fast-moving water splashed in my face. Am I ready for freestyle and competition or do I want to put off that vigorous training for a more relaxing journey?

I am considering a trip to Kentucky to visit friends which would entail a paddle down the Green River in Mammoth Cave National Park. I can imagine the sunny afternoon and the blue-green grass of the “Bluegrass State” that this journey would provide.

However, I could stay in Hawaii in my piece of paradise on the Island of Maui and paddle with my friends.  I do lead our group and they respect my skills and my delight in the adventure. At least I think that is what they enjoy the most. It could be the picnic that I bring along or the ukulele music and hula I perform for the evening entertainment after our day’s journey out in our kayaks.

I hate those days that you have to make tough decisions, trying to pick from visits with old friends in Kentucky or old friends here at home. Ah, but if I go to Kentucky and enjoy Green River kayaking, then I can then go on to enjoy Churchill Downs and the horses. Wonder what else the “red hat” ladies would like to do? I hear Indiana has some great places to paddle a kayak too.

Submitted by San Dee Crabtree, a “red hat” lady. This story was inspired by Queen Adele who in her late seventies is a top kayaker in Maui. She visits Kentucky and enjoys our change of pace and trying to keep up with Ms. Adele is a joy to behold. She has ladies all over kayaking and treasuring their days.

Written by guest author Sam Wright

My accountant (wife), informed me last year that our vacation fund for 2010 was being cut in favor of increased rent, utilities, and other necessities. I offered MY ideas on how we could cut expenses, but she just wasn’t going for the whole PB&J and Ramen Noodle diet and for some reason ditching the apartment, buying an RV and living in State Parks wasn’t tickling her fancy either. So, in an effort to keep the peace and avoid the couch, I agreed to her notion of having a “Staycation” this year.
“Staycation” is the new term for taking a vacation either at home or nearby. To my chagrin, the wife put me in charge of ferreting out a few destinations and activities that would be fun and not break our budget. He, he, he. Little did she know what she was getting herself into.

After a little research on our State Park websites, I ran across a few articles and advertisements expounding the benefits of kayaking. Surprisingly, kayaks were easy to find, cheaper than ever, and now made with new materials that produce great portability. From any city, I could search online and find an appealing lake, an old mill stream, or some other challenging waterway. There was even a kayak for every imaginable use and skill level.

This was the sales pitch I gave my wife as I searched for the perfect kayak and the best water way near my hometown. I presented my findings and the overall reasonable price of “our” new endeavor and she was impressed. So much so, that we ordered two Sea Eagle 330 inflatable kayaks! Who would have thought our discovery of such a novel hobby could produce such renewed excitement back into our lives?

Now we don’t have to wait until summer vacation. We just pick our escape weekend, grab our inflatable kayaks, and then focus on the beautiful scenery and the joy of having fun together.

Currently, I am awaiting our next adventure, but the wife said it will be a few months before she can join me. It appears that we had a little too much fun on one of our weekend kayak trips, but the grandparents are looking forward to the new addition in our life. Maybe I’ll look into the training requirements for my own future rodeo kayak team.

In the previous blog I posted about the compatibility of inflatable boats and recreational vehicles , RV’s. I found this video on YouTube that demonstrates how a compact, inflatable boat can be transformed into a sturdy craft for two. The boat shown is the Sea Eagle PaddleSki catamaran style kayak. It weighs only 49 pounds and packs down to a 20 inch by 10 inch by 36 inch area. You can currently find the Sea Eagle PaddleSki kayak for as low as $799 for a package that includes pump, paddles and kayak at PortableKayaks.com.

by Carole Ann Moleti

Liz walked across the wrap-around porch. Rotting wood sagged under her feet. Her hands fumbled with excitement, and she struggled with the old brass lock. The double doors creaked apart. A sense of déjà vu, a chill, a fleeting vision of the house bustling with activity disappeared into dead silence. She opened the mullioned windows, banging until her wrists hurt to loosen the reluctant sashes.

Her footsteps echoed like leaden boots on bare wood floors. A dust ball under an end table turned out to be the remains of a rat, eye sockets empty, teeth visible in a jawbone, desiccated fur barely holding onto the long tail. Bile rose into her throat.

Liz fashioned a rodent scooper from a piece of cardboard. Holding it at arms length, she pulled open the back door and thanked God it wasn’t swollen shut. She stepped onto the porch and tossed it into the yard. The rat broke into two pieces as it bounced off the chest of a man walking up the path through a pine grove bordering the property.

“Now there’s a brave lady.” He watched it drop and, nonplussed, spoke with a heavy Cape Cod accent. “Not only doesn’t she scream for help when she sees a mouse, she heaves it at the fella who’s got the nerve to come walking up to her back door unannounced.”

“I’m so sorry, sir!” Liz looked up as he ascended the rickety steps. About the same six feet as Gerry, he sported a neatly trimmed gray moustache and beard. His voice was more lilting than his broad chest and arms suggested.  Muscles bulged under his “Yankees Suck!” tee shirt.  His eyes, framed by delicate laugh lines, were the same shade of blue as the sky.

He removed his cap and winked. “You must be from New York. The ladies from down there don’t put up with anything, particularly from Red Sox fans.”

“It was a rat, and I wanted to get rid of it. I’m from Boston. Liz Levine.” She extended her hand.
He grabbed it in a gentle but firm handshake. “And I didn’t even ask which hand you used to pick up the rat.” He walked back down and kicked the carcass under the privet hedge that stood against a broken picket fence.

“Now it’s fertilizer. Mike Keeny from just up Stony Brook Road. I came to see who bought the house. Had my eye on it for a while, but the cost of real estate in Brewster is sky high and this place needs some restoration.”

“So you appreciate historical property, Mr. Keeny.” Finally, someone who didn’t think she was crazy moving from a Beacon Hill townhouse to a dilapidated Victorian loaded with original period furniture and tales of bad luck for a rapid succession of owners.

“They don’t build them like this anymore. And it’s Mike. So where is Mr. Levine?” Liz looked down and struggled to hold back the tears. “He’s deceased.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry. Is it okay for me to call you Liz? Or do you prefer Mrs. Levine?” Mike grabbed her hands. “I lost my wife two years ago. I know how terrible it is, and I’m a shade older than you.”

“Liz is fine. Being a widow isn’t pleasant at any age.” Her hands slipped from his grasp.

“No, it isn’t. Well, I better get going. I live at 68 Stony Brook, the small colonial. Nothing as grand as your 1875 Victorian, but Brewster is the prettiest town on the Cape, nonetheless. If you need to use the phone, or anything else, it’s a short walk.”

“I have a cell, thanks.” She wished he’d leave.
“I don’t have any technology. Just an old-fashioned kind of guy. Don’t even have cable. Jeez, the things they show on that HBO.”

“Thanks for stopping by, Mike.”

“I’d like to see the place, once you’ve fixed it up.”

“Of course.” Liz turned to go back inside hoping he’d take the hint.

He tipped his finger in a lopsided salute, put his Red Sox cap on, and strode back through the pines.

Something about him seemed familiar; maybe she’d seen him on the beach during one of the summer seasons. Liz burst into tears and cried for a few minutes. Mike was trying to be neighborly. Why had she been so mean?

Gravel scrunched in the driveway, and she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. An army of young women jumped out of a van, each carrying a bucket, a mop, and a vacuum. A stout redhead got out of the driver’s seat and bounded up the front path.

“I’m Mae of Mae’s Irish Maids. You must be Missus Levine.” Mae grabbed her hand and shook it; the grip of her calloused, cracked hands firm.

“Yes, please call me Liz.” Was everyone around here this friendly?

“I’ve got my best crew with me, Lizzy. This place needs a bit of freshenin’, don’t she now? Run along. I’m the hired cleaner. If yer goin’ to be stayin’ here tonight, ya best be gettin’ some groceries and linens.”

“Linens are in the car. But I do need groceries.” Liz gladly picked up her purse and fled.

Liz unloaded two carts worth of staples and gadgets into the spotless pantries. The smell of ammonia drifted down the stairs. Whooshes of running water muffled the brogues. Liz stayed out of the way, arranged her clothes in the antique dresser and armoire, and made her bed.

By five p.m. the redheaded tornado departed. An eerie silence and chill returned. Liz walked through the rooms. They still needed painting and decorating, but the house looked better than she had expected.

Hunger knocked for the first time all day. She walked down to Paine’s Creek Road and Kate’s, the local hot spot.

“I’ll have the fritta and chowda special,” she ordered, noting how her Boston twang got more Cape Coddish.

Families, friends and couples laughed, shared French fries. Impossibly big ice cream cones dripped down happy children’s arms, staining tongues funny colors and raising multicolored dots on their clothing.

“Numba 63,” called the counter clerk.

“That’s us,” she said. Embarrassed she forgot she was alone, Liz  sprinkled malt vinegar on the fritters and found an empty table.

“You look like you could use some company.” Mike Keeny smiled down at her, holding his hat in his hand.

He looked like the last puppy left in a litter, wondering where all his mates had gone.
She didn’t want to be alone, she didn’t want to be with anyone, she didn’t want to cry. What she wanted was Gerry to be back beside her sharing a clam plate and raspberry lime rickey. She wanted this all to be a bad dream. Yeah, she wanted company.

“Sure.” Liz patted the seat next to her.

“I ordered already.” Mike perched on the edge of the picnic bench on the opposite side.

“Don’t wait for me to eat. Nothing tastes worse than cold fritters.” He studied his receipt. “I’m numba seventy-six, so it’ll be a while.”

“Why don’t you share them with me while you wait?” Might as well act neighborly. “This chowder needs to cool off anyway.”

Mike beamed. “Great idea.” He waited until she moved the plate into the center of the table and took one before he helped himself.

The need to chew masked awkward silence.

“Numba seventy-six!”

Mike clambered out of the bench and returned with a clam strip plate and raspberry lime rickey, with two straws. He couldn’t have known. He’d ordered before he even saw her. He couldn’t read minds. Whether or not it was a sign from Gerry, Liz decided to interpret it as one.

He sat next to her this time-at a polite distance-and pushed the plate next to the now empty fritter container. “Here, share this lime-rickey with me. I’d prefer a Heineken, but they don’t serve it here. Anyway, I’m going fishing after this and beer and boats don’t mix.”

He popped two straws into the top and offered it to her first. The lipstick she’d put on came in handy to mark whose was whose. They made quick work of the clams. Mike enjoyed his fries while she polished off the now cooled chowder.

Heavy comfort food, but Liz’s heart felt lighter than it had in a while. “I need to walk this off.”

“How about a ride with me on the marsh? I’d rather show off my new toy than fish.”

“Excuse me?” She must have misunderstood.

Mike’s cheeks blushed crimson. “Jeez, I meant my new kayak. Never was considered the most well-spoken person in the world.”

“I’ve never kayaked.” Liz always feared the currents at Paine’s Creek.

“No matter. The tide is on its way out so the trip in will require some effort. But on the way out we’ll just need to steer. Got a sweatshirt?” He was either oblivious or not giving up.

“No. I guess we’ll have to do it another time.”

“Naw. I have a spare, and insect repellant. Those green flies can be rough.” Oblivious.

He put Liz at ease—like she’d know him a long time. She was not going to act the same way she did earlier.

He interpreted the silence as agreement. “All set. We want to get out of the marsh before 7 p.m. Can’t miss the best sunset on the Cape, but I’m not prejudiced.” Mike beamed like he’d engineered the topography to take full advantage of its unobstructed view of the western sky.
Liz thought of sitting on the rocks next to Gerry, his arm around her, lips brushing her cheek, whispering a promise about the night ahead. Her stomach churned, mixing comfort food and guilt. Gerry had only been dead nine months, and she was on a date. She grabbed the tray and dumped the trash.

Mike was at her elbow. “My truck is just over there.”

They walked to his pickup, the space between them wide enough to accommodate the ghosts of their deceased spouses. Both lonely, neither alone.

Liz slid into the passenger seat. Her heart thumped as hard as the door. The pickup eased over a rise.

The panorama of shimmering azure water and golden sand bathed in the peachy glow of evening sunshine never ceased to cheer her. High-pitched squeals of kids crabbing filled the air. A father and son tried in vain to get their kite aloft.

“Great night for a paddle.” Mike dragged a silver and blue pile toward the end of the load bed. He plugged a hose into an outlet in the back of the truck and, within minutes, a sleek inflatable kayak morphed out of what looked like a rubber raft that had scraped over barnacle-laden rocks once too often.

Mike slung a backpack over his shoulders and lifted the craft effortlessly. Liz scrambled to help him carry it over the sand, but he handled it with aplomb. The guy was likely in his fifties, but fit. “I’ve got this. Grab the paddles, please.”

Liz picked her way over the rocks and shells, stopping to transfer the paddles to the opposite hand, slip off her sandals, and roll her Capri’s up over the knees. Mike, in the water up to his ankles, held the craft steady while she waded in and climbed into the front seat.

Her eyes met his, which glinted with sparks of happiness.

Postponing the fishing expedition certainly hadn’t upset him. “For some reason, I feel like we’ve known each other for a very long time. You look so familiar.”

“Yes, I suppose we’ve seen each other at the beach. I’ve spent summers up here for years.” If she told him her deceased husband had arranged the date, he’d think she was nuts.

He waded up to his knees and hopped over the side. “Life vests are under the seats.”

The steadiness of the kayak had reassured her, but she complied.

Mike buckled into his. “Never know what can happen-especially with the currents and unpredictable winds. Habit I’ve gotten into, even on my Boston Whaler. He spritzed on some insect repellant and passed it to her before paddling the kayak into a labyrinthine creek.

“What should I do?” Liz experimented with hand position.

“Circular strokes.” He demonstrated the smooth motion. “You just have to get a sense of the timing.”

They slipped into a tandem rhythm and cut through the powerful onrushing current like a needle through cloth. The exercise worked Liz’s upper back and arm muscles into a comfortable athletic stretch. The setting sun still warmed her skin, but neither was breathing heavy,

The rhythmic motion and timeless beauty of the marsh blurred time. It could have been one hour, or one day, or a century ago that they’d entered the narrow channel winding through the sea grass. Tides rose and fell everyday, no matter the season or who was there to witness them.

The creek meandered in one direction, then reversed upon itself in a seemingly endless series of turns.

The kayak skimmed the surface like a dragonfly.

Liz couldn’t see Mike’s face, and alone with her thoughts and memories, lost herself in the peace. She sorely needed this serenity after the turmoil of moving into a house in desperate need of repair and renewal-like its new owner.

“How’re you doing, Liz?” Mike’s voice drew her back.

“A perfect end to the day, Mike. I’m sorry you missed fishing though.”

“I’m a fisherman by trade, Liz. Go out everyday in the summer and most in the off -season. But nights get lonely. Why waste such beautiful evenings and pleasant company?”

Liz turned to look at Mike. Not a whisper of tension etched his face. A tiny smile curled his lips. He paddled, his blue eyes took her in like cold lemonade on a hot day.
The pleasurable tingle of being admired by a man faded quickly to a clutch of remorse in her chest.

“I’m…oh look at the osprey!”

Just in time to cut the tension, the large white bird alighted on the platform built to offer a safe nesting space far from interlopers. The current ran faster as the tide receded. Liz was glad to have Mike’s powerful strokes moving them forward. Sweat dampened her neck. She paused to dip her hand into the chilly water and splashed some over her arms and throat.

“Good idea.” Mike did the same, the kayak jolted and swiveled when he stopped paddling.

She picked up her pace and got them back on the correct track.

He took a bottle of water out of the backpack and offered it to her. “I didn’t expect company so I only have one. Ladies first.”

“I’m okay, Mike. You’re doing most of the work.” She grunted with effort.

He took a swig. “Let’s turn around here. We want to get back before sunset.”

He back paddled, and she did the same. The kayak spun and ran with the current toward the beach. Only an occasional swipe was needed to keep it from getting caught in the eddy.

Rock crabs scampered under them. Small fish clustered near the bottom. Green strands of seaweed streamed like mermaid’s hair in the rushing water.

“Think we’ll make it out before we’re beached?” She didn’t relish the thought of slogging through the mud barefoot.

“Kayaks sit high in the water and only touch bottom near dead low tide. Another reason I like this for fishing. If I have to pull, it glides. Easier than carrying my gear and walking.”

They emerged from the creek and were back at the crescent shaped beach, now packed with people trying to get the best vantage point.

They only scraped bottom at the shoreline. Mike stowed his paddle and climbed out. He steadied it for her, then pulled the kayak well up onto the beach. He piled the paddles and backpack on the sand, then opened the valve. While it deflated they stripped off the life vests. Cool night air raised goose bumps on
Liz’s damp skin. She rubbed her arms.

“I’ve got sweatshirts.” He strode over the sand with the kayak and rummaged in the truck.

She gathered the rest of the gear and followed. Mike draped a huge sweatshirt over Liz’s shoulders and gallantly helped her up onto the rocks. They sat close enough for their shoulders to touch briefly. The orange ball plopped like a giant egg yolk beyond the horizon. Everyone around them oooh’d and ahh’d, and smooched and giggled. Being alone here would have been miserable.

A sense of peace, of relaxation settled over her. Today she’d left her old life behind, not by choice but rather by necessity. The timeless, tireless tides, the serenity of the salt marsh, the glory of a gorgeous sunset enjoyed with a companion offered respite, renewal, reassurance.

Mike helped Liz off the rocky ledge, his hand strong, warm, gentle. There wasn’t much left to say on the short drive back to her house.

“Come in.” Liz unlocked the door.

A warm breeze blew through the floor to ceiling windows, banishing the chill. Mike followed her in.

“Would you like to stay awhile?” She imagined he’d look at the house, but he only had eyes for her. “I’d love to, but you look exhausted. Big day, moving, cleaning, unpacking, getting settled. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Thanks for a wonderful evening, Mike.”

A smile spread over his face. “How about I take you to Chillingsworth one night? They have a great wine list.”

“Actually Mike, I’d rather go to Kate’s. We can bring our own wine down to the beach- for after the paddle–and watch the sunset.”

“You let me know when. Remember, I’m just up the road in case you need anything. Goodnight.” He picked up her hands. After a gentle squeeze, he dropped them, gave his little salute, and disappeared into the pine grove.

Streaks of purple clouds drifted like gnarled fingers through the sky, now tinted pale orange. She, and the house, had come back to life.

(The Author, Carole Ann Moleti writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance with such a light touch, you might not notice the witches, ghosts or fairies. Can you spot any in this interlude from Unfinished Business, her novel in progress set in the historic town of Brewster Massachusetts)

(Carole is an avid outdoorswoman who enjoys winters on the steep, icy slopes of the Northeastern United States and Canada, and summers on the waters of Long Island Sound, upstate New York, and Cape Cod Bay. She’s packed her Sea Eagle 370 and is headed for new adventures, which she’ll be sharing here in the months to come.)