We landed on Man Island, a mostly barren hump of rock rising
above the bold southern end of the Great Wass archipelago, and the
group meandered to the grassy summit, where we gazed out at the broad line of
horizon over the open ocean and the late afternoon sunlight coating our
surroundings in the oversaturated sort of glow that makes everything feel just
a bit unreal. The feeling might have been enhanced by this being the end of our
sixth day together – six very intense days of training conducted both in the
classroom, on the ocean and in the pool, during which I rarely stopped heaping
the students with information and tips on personal paddling skills, leadership
and group management, as well as critiques of their newly-learned abilities.
Every trip has its high and low points, and on a trip that
doubles as leadership training, those highs and lows are probably more
pronounced. This one felt like a high point in both the geographic and
psychological sense. On our first day of class we’d demonstrated various
leadership styles, accepting that there can be a time and a place for each, but
lately I’d needed to use the authoritative or “drill sergeant” style more than
I liked. I had needed to be very direct at times, and perhaps not so polite,
and yet by urging the group on to this place, I was also hoping that it might
help them discover what I like about sea kayaking, and have a little fun with
it: a tough balance.
During training, we tend to come-up with a lot of hypothetical
situations. We give pre-trip briefings and paddle lessons to the rest of the class,
pretending that they haven’t already heard it a bunch of times. We pause at
anything vaguely resembling a channel crossing and get the group lined-up in a
tight formation. We discuss what all the possible things that could go wrong
might be, how we might prevent those scenarios, and what we might do should the
worst happen.
The danger in all of this role-playing and make believe is that
the students might start to treat sea kayaking as if it is all one big exercise
or game, losing sight of the true potential, or simply the fact that we might
have a good time out there.
We’d stopped earlier to set-up camp and eat lunch, and
before we headed-out for our afternoon paddle, the leader-of-the-moment shared
plans for what seemed a rather short and unambitious trip, so I interjected and
suggested a few destinations. When we were a short distance from Man Island,
which seemed unmistakably awesome, I once again interjected when the leader
announced that it was time to head back to camp. I think everyone, including
the leader, was pleased. As much as any kayak trip might be more about the
journey than the destination, it occasionally helps to find yourself in an amazing
place.
I gave the students a break and took over leading along the
southern, exposed stretch of the islands, out around the lighthouse, and handed
the reins back over in more protected water. Again, I think everyone enjoyed
it, and I hoped that it might be inspiring. Of course, over the next couple of
days we had plenty of ups and downs, but I hoped that the glimpse of potential
might make it more obvious why it’s all worth it, and why we’re out there in
the first place.
2 comments:
Love the image with the two green tents around the pool.
But I have to wonder, all alone like that, does the near tent person snore? All alone, away from the others.
That near tent is out on a cool rocky outcrop with ocean all around. I think the others were a little hesitant to be in such an exposed place, but it was a beautiful night. After the kind of long days we have, I wouldn't know if anyone snores... hopefully not me.
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