Blind Bartimaeus: Alaska: July 10

It was the windiest, rainiest, coldest, wildest day of kayaking I’ve ever experienced. And it was great.

Josh bought us a 4-hour sea kayaking adventure for my (very) early birthday present, so we loaded the dogs into the car and headed south to Seward.

The adventure began with salmon-induced changes. Just that morning, the Silvers had started running and the company we went with was using all available water taxis to charter eager fishermen to waters flashing with silver temptation.

That left a small, uncovered motorboat to carry us four kayakers and our lengthy tandem boats to Kayaker’s Cove for our paddling expedition. We buckled our life jackets tight and squeezed in for the 30-minute ride through wind, rain, and rolling sea.

I must admit I was originally a bit sour about the rain and clouds. I think I’ve shared before that rain is my least favorite weather condition. Still, as the bow of the boat rose into the mist, hovered in the space between waves, then fell again, I closed my eyes and tried to simply feel the adventure:

The wool of my winter cap stretched tight over my ears and tied snug beneath my chin.

The rain drops rolling down my nose.

The spray of Alaskan sea water dotting my cheeks.

The rhythmic slap of our boat on the surface of a drum 800 feet deep.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the fingers of snow-covered peaks reaching down through the rising mist to bathe in the ocean. I saw island domes -- green with pine -- dotting the horizon. I saw blue. And I saw red. Our kayaks were ready for adventure -- and so was I.

We disembarked, donned our spray skirts and slid into our boats. I paddled front, and Josh steered from the back. We toodled around a small bay, getting the feel for tandem paddling. We bobbed and swayed. Water dripped off our paddles and down our sleeves. The guide warned us that once we left the bay, the wind would rip and we’d have to paddle HARD.

So we did. We sliced red and swift through that Alaskan sea, stopping here and there to gaze at waterfalls dropping from cliff to ocean and islands rising from ocean to misty sky. We gawked at jellyfish -- orange, clear, wiggling, creepy, beautiful -- in the water below our paddles. We marveled at this cold (40s), harsh, salty view of Alaska that was yet another reminder to me of how small I am and how big God is.

After a few hours, we pointed our noses toward the shore. The waves rolled large beneath us, but we made it. We were soaked through and shivering, but we made it. It was the windiest, rainiest, coldest, wildest day of kayaking I’ve ever experienced. And it was great.