Feature-Women in Paddling: Kayaking for the Soul

June-July 2000

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.

by Meredith Martin

I'm sitting at the Arts Club Theatre Lounge on Granville Island in Vancouver with my friend Len. It's October 23, 1992. 6 pm. Drinking Friday night beer, eating the Friday night Nachos. The typical art student pastime after hours of laborious creativity. An ocean kayak skims by on False Creek. Softly sliding across the glass-like surface. So far removed from the noisy realities of the city all around. So peaceful. At that moment I'm hooked, and I know it.

Meredith found a new life for herself in kayaking

Ocean kayaking is for me a place I go for peace, to find that quiet space. The place where my soul touches something precious. Where something precious touches my soul. My shoulders drop, my breath becomes quiet and steady. Life makes sense. It's a spiritual space where God, Spirit, Buddha, whatever name fits, sidles up and says 'Hey-let's spend some quality time.' I always accept.

I started kayaking at 42 years old and for the first year spent at least some of every day in my boat. A boat that was more than a boat. A haven, an escape. A friend. Hours spent together. I learned how she moved in different water and weather conditions, how she responded to different paddle strokes. Forming a deep solid relationship that encompassed understanding, sharing of experience, learning mutual trust.

The second year of kayaking I started working for Don and Erin at Comox Valley Kayaks. It was a wonderful year of washing boats, talking, eating, breathing kayaks. Learning so many things and eventually becoming the manager of the Courtenay shop, with all its pressures and pleasures.

The kayak industry is high paced, with seasonal pressures. An industry where you have to juggle how many boats you need, how many lunches-was that one or two vegetarians on the daytrip? Who in the heck is going to fix that rudder before you load the trailer? And you can't forget the times when customers are late returning from a trip, and although you try not to, you worry about their safety and breathe a great sigh of relief when they pull into the parking lot.

The kayak business is also an opportunity to meet some of the most wonderful people, people who get out there and experience nature, people who want to do more, who love great food on the beach, people who don't mind a little sand in the supper (that's normal isn't it?), people who are always willing to share their story, their knowledge, their favorite paddling area and their opinion as to which is the best boat on the market and why. It's a great learning ground, a wonderful opportunity to make new friends.

When I later moved from the Comox Valley, it was wonderful for me to phone the local paddling group and be welcomed with open arms, to be invited to join their excursions, not to mention the offer of a boat while I am temporarily boatless. The warmth, the generosity and the hospitality of ocean kayakers is endless. When I started to think about writing an article on kayaking, I realized that kayaking had completely changed my life. What started out as a simple urge to grace the water as I had witnessed that Friday evening at False Creek had turned into a job, a passion, an incredible journey. It has been a doorway into things I had never done: teach a lesson, load a trailer, drive the damn thing and even worse back it up-a few embarrassing moments there for sure. It has brought new people into my life, with their enthusiasm, their warmth, their joy and commitment to the sport. I recognize myself from 7 years ago in the courage of the newcomers, their willingness to try new things, their endless curiosity.

I had never envisioned myself a gear freak but alas! here I am, the proud owner of endless paraphernalia. How could I possibly survive without that outback oven-you really do need fresh pizza camped on the Curmes Islands, or that new style of paddling jacket! And we mustn't forget that perfect paddle, the one you just dream of owning. It became difficult to take home the percentage of my paycheck I needed for food and accommodation after the kayaking essentials were paid for. I have to admit that I didn't stay faithful to that first boat. I cried when I sold her but greener pastures, bigger hatches and faster speed called to me.

My day excursions turned into multi-day trips. Never one to enjoy tenting, I was surprised to find myself totally comfortable with kayak camping.

Paddling up to a new beach, searching for the best site, getting the gear unpacked, the food out, setting up to cook a better meal than the ones I prepared for myself at home. Sitting around the fire at night, sipping wine, swapping stories, the only other sound being the sound of the waves connecting with the shore. Crawling into the tent at night pausing long enough to sit on the bluff and gaze at the stars and breathe in the silence.

I must remember the times I was caught out in rough seas, the hard paddling, the fear and excitement, and those endless days of paddling in the rain. I loved those times as well, some a little more than others. I must admit that I could do without those days when my breath caught in my throat and I worried about my ability to handle the conditions. I think of the seasoned paddlers I have paddled with and of their self-assurance and the feeling of security that their knowledge brought to the experience.

When I think the word 'kayaking', all of these things come to mind, the preciousness of it and how important it is to me. I am surprised to think back to that evening at the Arts Club Theatre Lounge in the middle of Vancouver and realize what a difference that one moment had made to my life. The spirit has charted a true course from that day in False Creek, to times of peace and serenity and the promise of many more. I am forever grateful.

Meredith Martin is an artist living in Nanaimo, BC. ©