Kayaking on the Potomac
Transcribed from a voice recording.
You know, I spent the week arguing with myself about this kayak trip. Ahmad floated the idea after work so casually that my hesitation seems almost embarrassing. From his side I probably looked more than willing from the jump, but truth be told some part of me knew I would rather go home.
However, as these things tend to go, the river made its case once we pushed off from the dock. The Potomac is not the world’s cleanest (by far), nor did the weather cause me to shout for joy, but what they say about large bodies of water is true. There’s something about being out on open water that really does do something to your psyche; the first few strokes of my paddle moved my mood along with the boat. Clouds sat low, the Potomac moved with the wind, and surprisingly, I was having a great time. The automatic, non-compulsory smile that comes on whenever you do anything fun was on before the 2 minute mark had passed.
We lined up our kayaks and raced just to race, then let the boats drift until they turned lazily in the current. At one point we spent too long debating whether to paddle over to two girls under Key Bridge before admitting the moment worked better as a joke than as a mission. Planes close overhead, low enough that the sound wrapped around us. By the time we pulled onto the rocks at Three Sisters Islands, it already felt like we had stepped outside the whirlwind of the city that is DC. I will say, getting off the boat was much more difficult than it was getting on. Ahmad snapped the photo of us on one of the islands after we climbed up, and we chatted about many things. Cool guy, Ahmad.
However, the moments that stay with me most are the ones where I stopped paddling, where I let the boat turn however it wanted, floating, listening to the knock of water under the hull. I wish I had a notebook and pen tucked somewhere in the life vest, because open water is a wonderful muse and I could feel ideas unfortunately dissolving with the current. I might have called my mother, I can’t recall, or maybe my brother.
All throughout the trip, I was looking for a chance to snap a scenic picture of the seagulls on the water. That chance finally came on the way back from the islands, where we found a flock of them clustered around some rocks. A single seagull stood all tall and scenic-like. I tried to glide in close enough for a clear picture and still ended up zooming more than I wanted to before the bird lifted away.
I climbed out of the kayak with sore shoulders and a looser grip on how I think about this city. DC still feels like a temporary home, but I feel less tight around how I spend the time I have here. I aim to go back on the Potomac again before I leave, and I’ll bring something to write with next time.