Crushed dreams in Wawa

Okay, I have big dreams. Always have. Used to think I wanted to grow up and be Laura Ingalls Wilder and cross the prairie in my covered wagon and my prairie dress encountering Indians and storms. When I got the chance to go to India, I was imagining myself as a modern day Laura headed to India (my own prairie). As Asha says, my dreams were crushed by reality. Okay, so India is not the prairie and I am not Laura (and I really like toilets, flush ones that everyone who uses sits on and doesn’t squat on with their muddy feet). So I learned that my dreams now needed to include a few modern conveniences. Alaska was next. There was no reason to think we could not conquer the wilderness by way of the dirt road across Alaska, no toilet issues involved. But, I forgot about the flat tire, the alcoholic innkeeper, the theft of my stoli, the room that almost floated away in the rush of glacier waters, the bees. I won’t go into details, suffice it to say that this dream was not quite what I expected. You would think I'd learn (these are only two examples of many). Ask Vive for the sailing story if you want more examples.
Kayaking is (or was) one of those dreams. I could imagine myself in the little boat skillfully maneuvering the paddles around the bay speeding through the water and viewing wildlife and scenery impossible to see from the mere road. Everything must look better from the vantage point of my own portable water device. Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? Well, I forgot to take into account the cold water and the cold air and the fact that they want you to do a wet exit before you get to kayak (and then wear your wet exit clothes for the remainder of your excursion), and the fact that your bare feet are sitting in a sandy boat rubbing against the sand when they aren’t pressed firmly against sandy pedal things getting cramps, and the boat might tip over and you can repeat that wet exit at any moment and repeat it somewhere where you can’t touch the bottom, and it requires you to use all these muscles that you never use (because who kayaks on land?), and then when you’ve done all this and you’ve paddled out to the wild blue yonder (only nothing is blue because the sky is gray and the water is gray and even the scenery seems to be gray and it’s hard to remind yourself that at least it isn’t raining) you don’t see anything but the other side of the trees you saw when you were on land!!!!
And, don’t even get me started on putting on a wet suit (that 100’s of other people have worn before you) and a jacket with mold inside of it (that 100’s of others have also worn) that are damp and Asha has just told you that whatever happens don’t pee in your wetsuit. I have no intention of peeing in my wetsuit but what about the 70 other people that peed in my wetsuit!!!!!! And you have to go change into your wetsuit in this little hut (Ha, hut is too nice a word) in the woods (poison oak anyone?) that has tree branches growing in it and the bench is mildewey and wet and you’re supposed to put your dry, lovely, fuzzy, warm clothes on that bench. And there are all these little tiny pebbles everywhere that get in your shoes (which are getting ruined anyway from the lake water) and between your toes and then you walk to the lake with those little pebbles rubbing away and those little pebbles get into the boat with you!.
Okay, we did it, we survived and we will not be doing it again.
I know people love this. I’ve talked to those people and they don’t seem crazy or from another planet or delusional. So I realize I must be missing some essential component of the experience (maybe I’m just not zen enough or maybe I must finally admit that I am the princess and the pea as Vive keeps kindly suggesting) but I think I’ll watch others kayak with admiration (and dismay) rather than venture into another one again.
My next dream? I think I’ll dream of sitting home one summer and NOT going on a road trip. Now, that would be novel.