My dad was a skilled canoe paddler and water reader, as was my grandpa. I can’t remember a day when I wasn’t paddling down (and up!) rivers. This included plenty of nighttime frog hunting forays. One day, when I was very young (maybe 7), dad turned me around in the bow of the canoe and he sat facing me in the stern. We were in some swampy backwaters. He had me practicing and perfecting many canoe strokes that we then translated to the river.
Eventually, I started paddling kayaks around as well, particularly sea kayaks on big bodies of water. I think that helped my endurance; not so much my skill.
When I was about 30, my dad pronounced my skills had surpassed his. I don’t think that’s true. I may have gotten a bit bigger and stronger than him, but I never met anyone that could read a river and choose a route like he could. Miss that guy.
Eventually, I started paddling kayaks around as well, particularly sea kayaks on big bodies of water. I think that helped my endurance; not so much my skill.
When I was about 30, my dad pronounced my skills had surpassed his. I don’t think that’s true. I may have gotten a bit bigger and stronger than him, but I never met anyone that could read a river and choose a route like he could. Miss that guy.