Chapter Sixteen
I was no expert kayaker when I walked into Wakpa Paddling and Ski Center and filled out a job application. I mean, I’d kayaked a couple times at summer camp, but not at any level to write home about.
The tutelage of Ray, my boss, coupled with my subsequent ten thousand or so trips down the Big D these past six years, had gotten me halfway to expert, though. Skiing was all right—I’d done that too as a kid, though breaking my leg on a slope had soured the sport for me—but kayaking was my one true love. There’s nothing like the peace of gliding through the water as small paddle strokes let the boat almost move of its own accord, like it’s come alive.
That’s how it feels in peaceful waters. Then there’s whitewater, nature’s rollercoaster. The jerk of the boat against rocks u
