I have no idea where my fear of kayaking comes from. The rest of my stupid fears at least have a root cause in something. Bears eat you. That sucks. Failing out of law school would bring shame and humiliation. NOT failing out of law school may lead to being a lawyer. Logical progressions, you know? But, none the less, I have long been afraid of kayaking. The fact that my mother adores kayaking does not help. Enough of thirteen year old me exists somewhere inside that I rebel strenuously against enjoying anything my mother strongly recommends.
So, when it was raining as we left Ardbeg, I was relieved. Because if it rained too much, we wouldn't have to go sea-kayaking. And I had promised. I had promised to try and be brave, and I would probably end up being brave, but, you know, a well timed downpour and cancellation wouldn't hurt anyone.
I was not, however, so lucky. And soon, I'd be in this:
All photographs here are courtesy of E, who was smart enough to bring an old camera to take out with us.
The weather cleared up around 2, right when we were scheduled to head out on the water. So, with what felt like a lump of coal in the pit of my stomach, we traipsed over to the beach from the hotel.
Our kayaking tour guide, David, met us at the beach. We proceeded to put on an excessive amount of silly looking gear, and head out into the bay.
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| Our departure point |
There were about ten times during our departure from the bay where I was about two seconds away from telling them that I quit, I was turning back and I'd happily sit on the beach drawing pictures in the sand 'til they came back. I'm not sure what stopped me - I'm quite stupid at kayaking, so I was constantly unable to turn around, maneuver and go where I was supposed to, which made me full of both fear and embarrassment. Maybe I was trying not to have a complete mental breakdown in front of David and E, maybe I was trying to prove something to myself, maybe my inherent politeness prevented me from causing even more of a scene. I don't know what exactly caused my hesitation, but I'm glad it did.
We took a gentle, uncomplicated route around the bay. I was grateful that David had chosen such an easy outing for me. I was still uncomfortable, however, until we rounded some rocks in the bay. And then, we ran into some company.
Sadly, I don't have pictures of the company. They are gentlemen and don't take kindly to American paparazzi. But, for a good twenty minutes, whenever we turned around, we'd see this in the water behind us:
We were, in fact, being followed by loose seals.
This changed everything. I love seals. Everyone loves seals. You can't really meet a seal and not love it. So, from this point on, this whole kayaking thingy was simply a necessary evil to get up close and personal with seals!
(Also. I learned to sort of not die. And the rest of kayaking was really fun and beautiful)
David and E were both incredibly patient with me. The trip was fairly short and through calm waters. We saw a lighthouse, which was square, and stopped at a beach named Singing Sam's. I thought there would be some sort of jolly pirate story behind the name, but, if there was, David was unaware of it. We could see the old Port Ellen distillery and almost all the way over to Laphroaig The weather even held up until we were heading back into the beach.
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| Port Ellen distillery. It's shut down now but the leftover whisky in there is rare and expensive |
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| In Americatimes, lighthouses don't usually come in square! Also please note the size ratio of the light to the lighthouse |
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| Singing Sam's beach |
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| And the peat fires again burn at Laphroiag |
We were soaking wet and slightly tired when we got back on the beach. But we had more yet to accomplish that day...
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