Peace and meaning...beyond the calm.

Rarely do we experience the ocean this calm - not a breath of wind or even a residual ripple from the night-time breeze that, only several hours before, had refreshed the air from the previous day's heat. I took this image of Andrew in his Derek Hutchinson-designed Gulfstream as we completed the final few paddle strokes of our three-day circuit of Salt Spring Island. Entering Maple Bay, Maple Mountain is gently reflected on the left and the rising heights of Salt Spring on the right.

For me, wind is desirable - up to a point, of course. The wind makes for waves. Waves cause the kayak to yaw and pitch and roll - weathercock and broach will be terms well known by paddlers. The movement is invigorating, exciting, adrenaline-producing...and sometimes, nerve wracking. The sea kayak was built a thousand years ago by the Inuits, the Aleuts and others to venture into a marine environment - sometimes placid, sometimes stormy, almost always unforgiving. Wind and waves from straight ahead offer an exhilerating sense of motion and speed as the bow plunges into the crests and salt-spray refreshes your smiling face. Waves from behind thrill you when you "catch a wave" just right and the kayak accelerates dramatically, doing its best imitation of a surfboard! Waves created by a cross-wind are simply annoying until you reluctantly lower your rudder and gain at least a little purchase in the direction you want to go.

The bottom line: waves give texture, not only to the surface of the sea, but to excursions on the water. They can make for good sport but they can also capsize you, strand you on an island campsite for days on end, and generally humble you in ways beyond imagining.

Time on the water, in our narrow craft, teaches so many lessons. The "winds and waves" of life give texture and meaning to our days. They challenge us, they sometimes frighten us, they often humble us. They can turn us upside down but they can also bring out the best in us as we navigate each crest and each trough. In being willing to live fully and bravely, their very existence enables us to develop skills and strategies that ultimately make us strong and resilient. Waves can overpower us - but they can also empower us. The paddler who avoids all waves cannot develop the skills required to fully participate in the sport of sea kayaking. And so, I believe, we live most fully when we accept the "gifts" of life's "prevailing winds" - not always easy but always profoundly meaningful...especially in connection with one another.

In a world where life is not always easy for so many, together, we will traverse the swells and foamy crests. Together, we will survive the stormiest of life's unpredictable events. The alternative is to never leave the "shore" - and that wouldn't be the way life was meant to be. The inscription on a poster from university days has always stayed with me: "A ship in a harbour is safe - but that's not what ships are for." Yes, I think that's true.

D.