Solo a.k.a. Misery Loves Company Happy New Year - 2021! These are exciting times on the Florida Circumnavigational Saltwater Paddling Trail (CT). As of the November, there are ten active CT’ers, with five starting their quest at Big Lagoon State Park in northern Florida. Personally, I avoid the Florida panhandle this time of year. Since November, we’ve had almost weekly back-to-back cold fronts. This can work for (and against) the CT’er… I dislike the cold and its one reason why I moved south. And for my northern friends, please come visit me to experience the damp cold of Gulf of Mexico or cypress swamp winters…..you’ll quickly understand. That said, my current efforts & focus are on southern Florida. Paddling the CT, I don’t care where I start or stop, as long as I’m with chipping away toward my overall goal, I’m happy. To date, I have completed 870.5 miles, most of which were paddled with friends versus solo; often a topic of discussion amongst kayakers. There is nothing better than kayaking with another friend, especially a best friend. There is laughter, rhythmic paddle cadence & comfort in silence. And there is the essence of a shared experience, which are powerful because it not only brings people together, but is proven to enhance each person’s individual experience. An example of this was during my first kayak trip to the 10,000 Islands. Leaving Goodland, there were frolicking dolphins. Paddling the outer edge of this expansive national wildlife refuge, we observed 300+ American White Pelicans congregating in a cove. Later, after camp was set up, we watched the same squadron of pelicans flying south in unison, like pearls on a string, against a glowing orange canvas only a Gulf of Mexico sunset can deliver. If that wasn’t enough, there was that breathtaking morning sunrise and breakfast on a sandbar waiting for the tide to come in. Sure, if I were solo, it would have been nice, but the essence of it was extra special, because it was a shared experience, with a best friend. Shared experiences can also make challenging situations seem less daunting. Like the time I launched from Anna Marie Island in rough conditions, stealth camped in near freezing conditions…then paddled ten hours/25 miles, including an 11-mile Lemon Bay crossing with 15 mph headwinds. It’s been said “Misery likes company.” Despite the challenges faced, since I was kayaking with a good friend, it somehow felt a hell of a lot ‘easier’. Since last August, I’ve logged more than 55 CT trips, 17 of which have been solo. Solo in a kayak is an experience, on multiple levels. There is a solo that provides the rare experience of complete silence, including the liberating feeling of being out of cell phone range. Its solos like this which allows you to hear the wind beneath pelican wings or unknowingly glide past deer searching for food within the mangroves. Then there is the first-time solo, with the essence of a parent letting go of a child’s hand as they are learning to walk. Solos like this, can feel a little scary, yet you feel like you own the world after you’ve done it. Many of my solos have been memorable ones, but when faced with truly challenging conditions, it’s the shared experience with friends that make it easier to tackle versus by yourself. When you’re solo, you’re alone. The only hand you have to hold is your own. And with this kind, you better like the person you are with. This kind solo is exposed when challenged, including the mental dialog within you. After a picture post card worthy segment in the 10,000 Islands, my focus turned towards the next 18.5 mile segment; Solo. Solo. Queue: Three Dog Nights song One. Those who know me well know I invest a lot of time preplanning (routes, tides & weather). But when the kayak gelcoat meets the saltwater, you’re often faced with different weather conditions than what our Weather Channel Jim Cantore forecasts. While safety is always first, kayaking the CT teaches you to live in the present moment. You adopt a “It is what it is” attitude. So with my vehicle in place at the takeout point, knowing I would have a SSE 10-15mph headwind along my 18.5 mile route, I launched from South Naples. Destination Goodland. Launching, the stench and view of dead fish surrounded me. This persisted for more than half of my route and yet I was amazed at the amount of wildlife present, despite what we have done to their environment. I always wear a buff, but the one time I removed it...a boat passed me in the intracoastal, churning the water. My eyes burned and my cough turned into heaving. My preplanning did not include checking for Red Tide. Solo. Mental dialog: Present Moment and “It is what it is.” Now eight miles into my trip, I’m Crossing Johnston Bay north of Marco Island. And despite talking/asking deceased relatives for a break from the wind, the SSE not only wind persisted, but increased to 20 mph...So much for that Ouija Board. Solo. Mental dialog: Using the rhythm of my paddle stroke like a metronome I repeated. ‘Slow and steady win the race’ (my good friend Gus’s advice). And now the mental/physical chatter has decided to ride along ‘My core hurts’…”Ignore the physical.” I set my sights on and paddle towards distant green-grey islands, then once there, I would find respite on the lee side of massive mangroves or buildings...and reward myself with a short break and a protein bar. Days are shorter during the winter months, so on long segments, your have to keep breaks at short. I’ve been paddling almost nonstop for almost 4 hours. My core is aches; like I’ve completed the Marines physical fitness test sore. As I approached the Capri Pass on the north side of Marco Island, I was tired and energized at the same time. This was the half way point and I had less than 10 miles to go! The incoming tide was in my favor as I approached a sea wall, that somehow manages to hold up colossal columns of condominiums (and was blocking the wind). As I round the ‘condo’ corner and entered the channel, I am… Solo. I am no longer protected by the wind. The wide channel, more than 30 feet deep in some areas, combined with an incoming tide and SSE 20 mph wind (opposite direction) was the equivalent of riding the mechanical bull at Gilley’s honky-tonk in Houston, Texas. I kept my eyes on the wildly churning water while simultaneously setting my sights on a sandy beach by the bridge...a mere two miles away. With each ‘slow and steady win the race’ paddle stroke, my core burned more. This solo was using the muscle memory of all my kayak trainings to date. Solo. Mental dialog: …are now spoken words… I talked to my kayak like she was my horse in the Kentucky Derby...‘Come on Big Blue, we can do this!’ After 11 miles & more than 4 hours of focused grit, I landed at the distant beach. I patted Big Blue with my wet gloves on both sides of the cockpit like a jockey after winning a close race. I wish I had a rose garland to drape across her compass. I was physically exhausted. Solo. Mental dialog: With physical exhaustion there is no mental dialog. I slowly climbed out of my kayak and looked back at the last two miles in the Capri Pass... then broke down & cried. After catching my breath, I suddenly realized that the red tide was no longer present & I could finally breath again...paradigm/coincidence? I found, that despite physical exhaustion, there remained an energy source that was driving me to keep going. As I climbed back into Big Blue, the wind seemed to lessen (or I was just numb/could no longer feel it). The last 8 miles was in a narrow (and wind protected) channel leading to Goodland. Several boats passed me on this final intracoastal leg, but one boat, with four Yamaha outboard motors, stuck out. Its’ passengers, who had obviously been supporting the brewery industry, yelled out to me. I couldn’t make out exactly what they said, but it sounded obnoxious. Solo. Mental dialog. ‘If they only knew.’ and ‘My core still hurts, but I won’t have their beer belly!’ Calm conditions accompanied by resistance from the tide were with me during my final miles, then a very welcomed sight appeared as I rounded the last curve of the channel; the bridge to Goodland. Only 1.8 miles to go...Boston’s song More than a Feeling echoed in the cove as I passed by the Paradise Found Bar. I recently read an article that said the worst experiences make the best memories. When I shared my recent solo with a good friend, they responded “Everyone needs a challenging trip so you can appreciate the good ones!” My response “OK, so next time I see you, I’ll slap you upside the head so when I stop, you’ll appreciate it!” While this trip did not fall into the ‘worst experience’ category, because I was solo, it wasn’t one of my favorites.
Back to that topic of discussion amongst kayakers: paddle with friends or solo? I've only been doing briny kayaking quest since August last year, but right now, to me, kayaking solo is like masturbating; the orgasm is good, but its sure a lot more fun when its a shared experience.! Solo. Mental. Physical. Emotional. Misery definitely likes company. Solo: The Goodland boat ramp now in sight…no dead fish. Only the same frolicking dolphins in the nearby channel, playing the same way they did when good friends left Goodland just two days prior…
5 Comments
Frank Oley
12/31/2020 09:05:34 am
Another awesome read Dorsey! I felt drained as if I had just had the experience with you. I can draw a lot of comparisons to experiences I have had on the hiking trail, sometimes solo is the way to go, and sometimes having friends along is awesome too. I think for me, and I suspect for you too, that the important part is just being out there, whether by yourself or with others. It's a happy place where I find the most comfort.
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Janice
12/31/2020 11:30:51 am
Wow lady..... I am exhausted and fearful just reading it. It does go to show you that you can accomplish just about anything with determination!! You are amazing!
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Bob Everson
1/3/2021 12:56:10 pm
Wow! I had to read twice to really try capture what “solo” means to you. I guess I’m to dependent on having some sort of communication tool with me for having that security blanket. Your adventures warrant a novel for all to enjoy. From your starting dates and timelines to your finish dates. I loved the pictures you captured. I’m sure there are some events that you weren’t able to capture but wish you did. Thank you so much for sharing.
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Kelsey Wilkerson
4/2/2021 09:06:36 pm
So compelling and inspirational. I truly hope to be as strong as you one day!
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Dorsey
4/3/2021 08:22:32 am
Kelsey,
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AuthorDorsey DeMaster embraced kayaking after retiring from 38 years in aviation. She lives near Crystal River, Florida. Archives
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