Our family took a short cruise up the Sea of Cortez in Mexico in January, just before school resumed. It was a wonderful nature cruise that offered up-close glimpses of wildlife, hiking, snorkeling, and sea kayaking.
I'm not a person who enjoys water. I can tread water, but going out in deep water causes me to panic, due to some early childhood trauma involving my dad throwing me in a lake in an attempt to teach me using the old "sink or swim method." I sank. Like a rock wearing a toolbelt. I don't like inhaling saltwater, so snorkeling has never held much appeal to me either.
Frank and Alex, on the other hand, are like a couple of friendly, inquisitive sea mammals and would rather snorkel than walk on land any day. I was feeling a little left behind sitting on the beach with my People magazine, and so when the opportunity to kayak came along, I decided to "feel the fear and do it anyway." I trusted that my husband would save me if we tipped over, and felt pretty sure that I wouldn't drown with the industrial-strength inflatable life vest I had strapped on my chest.
Neither Frank or I had ever been sea kayaking before this trip. Alex was happily building sandcastles with a half dozen or so other kids from our boat, and one of the other moms agreed to keep an eye on him. So, we squeezed ourselves into a 2-person kayak and paddled out to sea.
We made it out of the protected lagoon with ease, gliding on top of the water as sea birds swooped down to feed on fish swimming near the surface. It was beautiful and calm, with a light breeze making ripples in the water. We could see other kayakers out in ocean, paddling along with no problem. There was something very serene about gliding along on top of the azur water, surrounding by ocean and craggy mountain peaks. Though we could see other people in the distance, the two of us were alone in our little boat, calmly paddling out to sea to face the unknown.
Earlier, I had gone on a nature cruise in a zodiac with our expedition leader, Larry, who pointed out an interesting clump of mangroves in another lagoon south of our landing beach. I told my husband about it, and we agreed to go take a closer look at the mangroves. We paddled in, trying to get near the trees growing out of the water. We approached, and suddenly, we got caught in a current or the wind caught us, and our boat turned and headed back to sea.
"What are you doing?" Frank asked. "Why are we turning around?"
"I don't know. You're the one steering this boat. I thought you were turning us," I replied
As we discussed this, our kayak decided to take another turn toward a moored sailboat in the middle of the lagoon. We paddled furiously to try to turn ourselves around. We would get close to the mangroves, only to be swept back around and out toward the sea.
Frank got frustrated. "I think you're doing it wrong," he said. "I'm supposed to dip my left as you dip right, and you're matching me. When I call left, you should go left and I'll go right."
He called, "LEFT!" and since I am left-right challenged, I did it wrong. "Not that left! The other left," he said, laughing.
"Hey, no need to get crabby, Mister. Since the eyes in the back of my head are apparently not working, maybe you should follow me." Frank, who is nothing if not logical, sheepishly agreed. We tried this opposite-paddling strategy for a while, but it only seemed to make the circle we were going in worse.
"We are stuck in the vortex of doom!" I shouted and we both started laughing so hard I thought the boat would tip over. After about the 10th time circling the sailboat and three near-collisions with it, Al, the geologist from our cruise came sidling up to us in a single person kayak.
"Hey, you folks need help? I've been watching you go around in a circle for about 20 minutes and I thought I'd better check it out." Al said.
"Yes, we seem to be stuck in the VORTEX OF DOOM!" my husband said, making us both laugh and shake the plastic kayak.
"You know," Al said, "I see this happen a lot. Married couples come out and kayak together for the first time and get stuck. There's usually yelling involved. Sometimes swearing. Sometimes tears. I've never seen anyone handle it quite like you two. You guys were laughing so hard I thought you might be doing it on purpose."
He gave us some instructions on how to get out of the Vortex of Doom (paddle together, matching stroke to stroke), and we were able to make it back to our landing beach. We got stuck again about 30 feet from shore, and Carlos, one of the marine biologists, came out and towed us the rest of the way into shore.
Of all the memories I have of our life and travels together, this is one that seems to define our marriage best. We do well when we work together, and when we work in opposition to each other, we go in circles. Our marriage has not been perfect, but how we handle the rough patches has always been constant. We can't always avoid getting stuck in a Vortex of Doom, but we know that a little humor, a little hard work, and a little help from wise counsel can go a long way toward smooth sailing ahead.
Adapted from a post originally written for Silicon Valley Moms Blog.
Photo by Glennia Campbell.
