13 Life Lessons from the Seat of a Kayak (Part 2)

by Annie Yorty

Kayaking is a great metaphor for life, so I’m sharing part two of 13 life lessons from the seat of a kayak. If you haven’t already done so, read the first four lessons learned from the seat of a kayak.

God uses all the adventures, twists, and turns of life to teach us. My paddle down the Antietam Creek in Maryland last fall was no exception. After a precarious beginning, I continued downstream to find more thrills, spills, chills, and shrills, as well as more life lessons learned from the seat of a kayak.

The Second Five Lessons

1. When you encounter obstacles, try to learn from others who’ve gone before.

The experienced kayaker watches for clues of what’s underneath the surface by the water’s color and direction. The trick is to stay in water that is deep enough to keep from grounding and avoid hidden rocks that might hang up your boat. On the Antietam, we encountered many hidden hazards as well as numerous rapids caused by rock jetties and fallen trees.

Sometimes I was the first in my group to make it to such obstacles. I prayed hard and used the wisdom given by God to navigate past them, hoping to pick a path others could follow. Sometimes my judgment was off, but even then, I could warn the ones following to try a different route.

When I was back from the lead, I watched those who were in front. Inevitably, a couple of the leaders would try to head through a pass from two different angles. The screaming and splashing alerted those in the rear about the problem areas. Some of us furiously paddled to position ourselves to follow the one who successfully made it through. But there would always be one or two who perhaps weren’t paying attention or grew impatient and went the same way that had previously failed.

Lesson learned? We’re designed to live and learn about life in community. None of us knows it all, and we should be humble enough to learn from the experiences of others.

2. Sometimes you need to rock the boat, especially when you’re stuck.

When I, a somewhat more ‘mature’ woman, kayak, I don’t want to rock the boat. Especially on a rocky, freezing cold creek, I’m all about minimizing the risk of accidental dunking. As you can imagine, though, the teens paddling in the group with me down the sun-dappled Antietam that golden October day rocked their boats. A lot.

So when I say you sometimes need to rock the boat, I want to clarify that most of them did not actually need to. They were teetering and tottering, just for fun.

But when I found myself literally wedged between the proverbial rock and hard place a few times on that creek, I had to consider rocking the boat. The first time was when I grounded on the ledge early in the morning. I didn’t dare rock the boat off that rock because I would surely have ended up kayak over heels.

The other times were less severe. I was just stuck. And I needed to get myself out. When traditional methods of leveraging with the paddle didn’t free me, I rocked the kayak from side to side and back to front, allowing water to flow underneath to dislodge me.

Lesson learned? In life, rocking the boat is usually discouraged. We’re supposed to go with the flow. But sometimes the flow slows to a trickle. That’s when we need to switch it up to get unstuck. To bring new ideas to the situation. To grow in a new direction.

3. Pause every now and then to enjoy the scenery.

After my initial excitement, I settled into rhythm of paddling. Left, right, left. It felt good just to focus on following a straight course over calm water on the way to the next adventure of the creek. But then I paused to look around. To notice.

Sun filtered through the few golden yellow and brown leaves still clinging to branches, creating sparkling diamonds on the tips of rushing water. I studied the depths, murky and mysterious here, yet clear enough to see every spotted pebble at the bottom there. Leaning back, I stretched toward the cloudless blue sky, inhaling musty earth smells. A light breeze stirred my hair and sent a shower of leaves fluttering. My ears reveled in nature’s harmony—bird notes carried and melded by that breeze across the water and through the woods in an endless song to God.

Lesson learned? The scenery adds depth and richness to life. Don’t overlook it.

4. Nourish yourself along the way.

I had been told beforehand we would have lunch on the creek. I wasn’t exactly sure if that meant we’d be eating in the kayaks as we paddled or if we’d pull out for a group picnic. It soon became clear, however, that we should just eat whenever—whenever we felt hungry and had the rare opportunity. I was glad I packed small accessible snacks that could be nibbled during the very brief lulls in action.

Lesson learned? You need to take care of your needs, both physical and spiritual. Feed yourself so you’re strong and equipped for the journey.

5. Laugh a lot.

I heard and added to the giggles and happy shrieks all up and down the Antietam Creek that day. Amidst all the thrills, spills, chills, and shrills, laughter relieved the tension. Nerves, a hole in a kayak, low-hanging branches clawing at our faces, a flipped kayak, and a spider as big as your hand crawling out from underneath the seat all lose power to derail the fun. (And to those wondering, I most definitely am NOT exaggerating about the size of the spider.)

Lesson learned? Laughter is essential in life. If you happen to be humor-impaired, at least learn to laugh at yourself. If nothing else, laughing releases endorphins to improve your mood when you’re wet to the skin and chilled to the bone.

To Be Continued. . .

These are just five of 13 life lessons from the seat of a kayak. Please come back for next week’s final installment to vicariously experience more of my thrills, spills, chills, and shrills on the creek.

Join the conversation:

How do you maintain a sense of humor when everything in life feels so serious? Please share your tips in the comments.

Happy paddling!