Life Vests, Kayaks & Wake Boards

The sunset-seekers were stationed per usual on the slatted wooden viewing platform at Stop 35, the entrée to the sliver of beach before Indiana becomes Michigan.  There were folks in shorts and T’s, bathing suits and cover-ups, sun worshippers that had lounged on the beach since mid-day. There were couples that had sauntered down from their cottages in the woods after an early supper.  There were cyclists taking a water break, milling and stretching, lining up cell phones for a photo. All were clustering at the stop sign to witness the splendor of the sun beginning its dip below the horizon.

On such a clear evening, nature’s show was certain to be magnificent. No ticket was required.  It was free, just like the drama playing out amongst the whitecaps further down the shoreline. Two young men had paddled out amongst the roaring surf atop their wake boards, heading straight for the warning buoys.  On such a windy day, Lake Michigan’s undertow was predictably strong. Dangerous. Wiser beach goers strolled the shoreline for beach glass, not daring to dip a toe into the manic waters. Not a soul in the water, except two young men atop wake boards bent on skimming the surface of an unruly and unpredictable Great Lake.

The folks loitering at the beach’s access point, high in the dune, were not just mesmerized by the surfer’s antics, they were riveted.  Concern had slotted most of the bystanders into active parenting mode. The surfer boys either ignored or never observed any of the frantic gestures to get out of the water. The wind swept away the shouted warnings to put on a life vest.  None of the assemblage had thought to bring a spare life vest to this chapter of summer sunset viewing. Nor were any preservers visible on the shore near the wake boarders.

While the tongues wagged and worry bandied about on the wooden viewing platform, my mind drifted to a scenario when a life vest actually got in the way of fun on the waters.  My husband and I, along with another couple, had ventured to the Galapagos for a bucket list vacation. Aboard the National Geographic Expedition, we were enjoying open water snorkeling, kayaking, photographic hikes, and lectures by naturalists.  When it was our turn to sign up for an afternoon kayaking session, the only remaining slots were for single kayaks.  While I was disappointed that the doubles had been nabbed, I would later be grateful that my husband was the commander of his own vessel.

Colorful kayaks bobbed along the side of the Explorer like strings of junk jewelry. The naturalist hooked one, pulled it close to the launching steps, and assisted our small group adorned with life vests, hats, and waterproof cameras.  I was one of the first settled into a yellow single kayak. Many seasons had passed since I’d kayaked, having learned on Lake Michigan when my kids were in grammar school, so I got to work testing my paddling skills. So consumed was I in getting situated, adjusting my sunglasses, readying my camera for sightings of sharks, stingrays, and turtles, that my spouse being offloaded into his red kayak was not on my radar.

In the retelling of this story, my husband admits that his feet were not steady as he slid into the seat well. The kayak listed to one side. He over compensated by shifting his weight in the wrong direction.  When I heard a splash, I lifted my head. Buoyed by the orange life vest, my spouse of thirty years floated alongside the launch gripping the edge of his red kayak, his tan Tilly hat tight across his brow. When the life vest deployed, it effectively incapacitated him.  He could not roll or shift in any direction without bobbing onto his back, nor could he hoist himself back into the kayak. He looked like a toddler’s floating bathtub toy. To prolific cheers, the naturalist hooked him, swapped out his life vest and resettled him into the red kayak.

This memory from the Galapagos, my husband’s battle with the life vest, flashed its warning message as I observed the surfers crest a whitecap. It occurred to me that the boys playing the surf didn’t need life vests, didn’t want them, never considered them.  In fact donning a life preserver might be incapacitating and dangerous, could impair the quick reflexes an athlete needed to ride the waves. The surfers had the concern of the sunset crowd and they had youth, agility and skill in their favor. Just as the pair of beaming boys emerged from the surf and toweled off, the sun glowed a heavenly pinkish-orange. There was a prolific ovation from the wooden deck and stairs.  Interacting with Mother Nature is always spectacular.