Fun Things To Do In Jersey That Won’t End In The ER

Surfing nearly killed me, so I thought I’d try something fun, but less likely to result in facial deformity.

Kayaking seemed innocuous.

I see kids in kayaks all the time. Smiling. Excited. Having a great time.

This is something I can do, I thought.

But not alone.

After attempting to lift myself onto a surfboard while negotiating relentless waves with no one but a random stranger interested in the outcome of my experience, I thought I shouldn’t try anything I’ve never done before alone, no matter how innocent the endeavor.

I suggest kayaking to my boyfriend, Robert. He has lots of arm strength, useful for propelling us forward, and even better, he’s done this before.

Robert was into it, so this weekend we went to the Manasquan Reservoir and rented some kayaks.

The wise people at the reservoir won’t let you go out without a life vest, something for which I soon become grateful.

We get our paddles, put on our vests and walk down to the kayaks. There are single kayaks, double kayaks, and kayaks with and without back rests.

We choose a double kayak with back rests and no water in it – this means there’s no leaking – and then it’s time to climb in.

I step into the back seat but Robert tells me not to – I should be in front.

The front, I ask.

I imagine a rogue wave popping up in front of us out of nowhere.

I want to sit in the back, I say.

The person expected to do more work sits behind, he says.

Why does nothing ever happen the way you see it in your head?

I sink into the clammy front seat and am immediately face-to-face with lots of sobering water. It’s a whole different perspective from standing yards away.

The kayak is in the mud so Robert pushes it further into the water. I stick my paddle firmly into the earth and ask Robert when he’s getting in.

He needs to shove the kayak out to get some buoyancy he says, and not to worry, he would be getting in.

For a moment I think I could float away by myself. Then what would I do? I’d be the only person ever to kayak the reservoir who would have to use the life vest.

But, I tire of being afraid and think, it’s only water and I can swim – what’s wrong with me?

I ease my paddle out of the earth and let Robert push the kayak further in.

We get some buoyancy, Robert climbs in, and I feel calmer.

We start to paddle and the first thing I notice is there are waves in the reservoir. Waves that come right up to the side of and into the kayak. Onto me. And my pants. And shoes.

It hadn’t occurred to me that sitting in a kayak, I could get wet.

I’m wearing yoga pants and sneakers and am quickly soaked.

But, it’s OK, because I’m kayaking, and now that I’m out in the water and not panicking, it’s actually kind of fun.

I’m placing my paddle into the water, swishing to the right, then swishing to the left. I’m doing a pretty good job, I think.

We paddle for a while and get a distance away from shore when Robert says he’s going to take a short break from paddling.

You take a break, I say. I’ll keep us moving.

Robert stops paddling while I continue. The kayak goes nowhere.

I’m taking a break too, I say.

It’s a windy day and the water wants to take the kayak to the left. To keep on track, we choose a spot to aim for across the water and recommence paddling.

Because I’m in front, I need to keep the kayak going in the right direction.

When the wind blows the kayak to the left, we paddle right, paddle right, paddle right. This works, but a little too well. Because now the kayak veers to the right, so we paddle left, paddle left, paddle left.

The sun is beating on my face and this is more work than I thought it would be, even with me doing practically nothing.

We get close to our destination and Robert spots what we think is a swan. I say no, it’s too big for a swan. It must be a boat.

We get closer and closer and it goes from a swan to a boat to a swan to a boat to a swan.

Robert begins to paddle in its direction.

Did you know swans are killer birds, I tell Robert. They’re really not very friendly.

You aren’t afraid of the swan, are you, Robert asks. He moves us closer to the bird.

Before I can answer the wind blows us to the left and I overcorrect to the right, and then we veer back onto our chosen path, away from the swan who, we eventually realize, is a heron.

Robert checks the time and we’ve been out close to an hour. We only have 25 minutes to get the equipment back.

We turn around and paddle back, expecting it to be much easier with the wind and waves at our backs.

But it isn’t easier.

The wind seems to be blowing in every direction, wanting to pull us first this way, then another.

I tire from letting Robert do all the work and take another break.

I look around and can’t believe how fortunate I am.

The trees, the water, the air. So pretty. I live five minutes from this breath-taking spot.

My reverie is short lived as another couple comes swooping in on their kayak. All this water and they have to paddle by us.

Jersey is pretty, but hopelessly overcrowded.

We make it back in plenty of time and my wrist is hurting from all that pretend paddling.

I wonder if my down dog will be affected, and for a moment, regret my kayaking expedition.

But only for a moment.

It was fun. My down dog is fine. And I’m ready to face more of those rogue reservoir waves.