This is an email I wrote when I got back from learning how to paddle in white water. I debated whether to include this story here, as it doesn't really fit the theme of my other kayak stories. But it is kind of funny, so I went for it.

I started out my summary of the whitewater trip as a narrative, but I found that it led to many very boring pages. As I’m sure my kayaking buddies will want to hear about the paddling, my car buddies will want to hear about the VW, and miscellaneous people will want to hear about the vacation element, I’ll segment the story.

I apologize in advance for the length of this email.

The Set Up:
I suppose I should start by saying that my expectations for this trip were not just a little unrealistic, but kind of outlandish. Needless to say, they weren’t met. Not to say it was a bad time; it was just a pretty good time. Let’s go back a little.

A couple weeks ago my friend Steve returned from a trip rafting through the Grand Canyon. His descriptions planted a seed in my brain. I decided to learn to whitewater kayak; an investment for potential future trips. Besides, I was slow at work and needed an adventure getaway.

The plan: two days of whitewater kayak instruction at a school in Jim Thorpe, PA. I got a room at The Inn at Jim Thorpe and reserved a VW Rabbit from Zipcar.

The Kayaking:
Let me start by saying that I know that Northeast PA Kayak School doesn’t control the weather. Unless they spent the day painting yard furniture and waxing their cars, they can’t be blamed for the massive lightning storm that hovered for several hours over the lake where they instruct.

Overall the instruction is decent, if a bit slow paced. We spent much time just kind of standing around, even when we weren’t waiting out the weather. On the second day, when the sun finally returned, I got the impression that the instructor simply didn’t have any travel mugs, so we couldn’t leave until he finished his coffee.

The lead instructor was a really goofy guy, but an extremely competent paddler. Because of the rain delays we packed the entire eight hours of scheduled instruction into four. I personally could have taken it all in one hour, but I was the only one with any prior paddling experience. We did learn to roll, however, which is unusual for a first lesson.

On the second day we actually got on the river and I found that I really enjoy rapids, though I don’t really enjoy rocks smashing into the bottom of the boat. I keep my butt at the bottom of the boat and it was taking a pounding like it was my first night in prison.

Rapids are pretty awesome. It’s a bit of a thrill, though it’s over a bit too soon. You can make your own jokes on that one, just keep them to yourself. I did enjoy the technical aspect of climbing back up a rapid, ferrying from eddy to eddy. But then we spent a disproportionate amount of time working on “surfing” a rapid, which I just wasn’t into.

I’ll say this: there’s nothing like seeing the NYC skyline from a kayak, but when that’s all you ever do, it is quite amazing to see nature from a boat. You can paddle up to… nature things… for a closer look. I can definitely see the appeal of getting out of the city.

Unfortunately, whitewater kayaks are about the most uncomfortable conveyances I’ve ever been in. The nature of these boats is that there isn’t much room to move around in them. You’re sitting with your knees up and slightly out, like a frog. When relaxed, your knees rest against the barely padded walls of the boat, and your ankles are always flexed. There is no way to straighten your legs without getting out of the boat. After a few hours the discomfort becomes pain. Then the pain becomes distracting.

They are fun, though. Where a sea kayak is long and cuts into the water like a knife, a whitewater kayak is tiny and lies on the water like a spoon. It takes a lot of negotiation to keep the thing going straight. Still, it was fun to be able to throw the boat around the water so easily. I felt like a big rig driver who suddenly found himself in a go-kart.

In stark contrast to the boat itself, my gear provided me with limitless comfort. In particular, points go to my new Kokatat Gore-Tex paddling jacket. It kept me dry in the rain, kept me warm in the cold, and when the sun finally came out, it didn’t cook me. Although it’s not a dry-top, I was able to fully submerge a few times and it kept my thermal top dry underneath. If I got hot, I’d just do a high brace to get my arms and shoulders wet and I’d be cool for 20 minutes. I strongly recommend the jacket.

So the instruction was a bit too basic for someone with any kind of prior experience, that stretch of the Lehigh River had not enough rapids and too many rafting groups, but paddling in nature is amazingly relaxing and visually amazing.

Jim Thorpe:
Here’s where my bizarre expectations come in. I figured that, since Jim Thorpe appeared to be a jumping off point for Pocono adventure vacations, it would be a treasure trove of 5-star restaurants and exceptional but quaint hotels. All at extremely reasonable prices, of course. Basically, I was thinking it would be Aspen, just in driving distance and at a fraction of the price.

Jim Thorpe is most decidedly NOT Aspen.

I think, rather than the rich and sophisticated visiting New Yorkers, Jim Thorpe is the preferred destination of working-class Pennsylvanians. I’ve known these people all my life and evidence of them was everywhere.

This was a beef town. Pennsylvanians love their meat, and a vacation means steak for dinner every night. My first night, I glanced over the hotel-restaurant menu and found mostly steaks on it. There was fish, but considering the considerables, I guessed it wasn’t very fresh. I got a steak. It came with a twice-baked potato and some very depressed vegetables. All edible, if inexpertly cooked. Much better than my second night.

The second night, the pub next to my hotel seemed inviting if for no other reason than my feet felt like elephants had been dancing on them. Of course beef was the star of that menu. Any place that has “24 oz steak, $14.99” painted on the side of the building is probably a place where you order the steak. Failing that, I should have gone for the chicken fingers. No, dumb-ass me orders the “Yankee Pot Roast.”

I had visions of fall-apart tender beef and thick, rich, velvety sauce in my head – an old family recipe lovingly prepared. To my credit, I even asked the waitress about it. She said it was great and that “everything is made from scratch, even the gravy.” I’m not sure what the definition of “scratch” is in that town, but if the mashed potatoes are any indication, “scratch” is some sort of boxed powder. All I’ll say is that you shouldn’t need a steak knife to cut pot roast.

Look, I know that vegetables are considered garnish in small-town Pennsylvania, intended to be pushed around the plate and forgotten, but what did they do to the carrots? Carrots aren’t tough when they come out of the ground and they only get softer with cooking. What did these people do to the carrots?

My hotel, while architecturally interesting from the outside, had a tiny room and the faint but ever-present smell of pee. Its resemblance to a nursing home didn’t end there; the only other people I saw in the halls were ancient and showed evidence of a great many steak dinners. There was a big veranda in front where I sat and wrote and watched the local hoodlums congregate.

My first night in town, I went for a walk. I saw a skunk. Nature. I was musing silently on small towns when I passed a large, bearded gentleman who said “yo” to me. I thought to myself, “Ah, small towns, where people still pause to say ‘yo’ to you in the evening.”

Not such a fan of Jim Thorpe, PA.

The VW:
Ah, the VW rabbit. I walked 13 blocks and passed several other serviceable Zipcars to get the VW. This was one of the wiser decisions I made on this trip. It was a damn fine car.

I would seriously consider buying a Rabbit. Pulling out of a rest stop, I timed it: zero to sixty in just over six seconds. Sixty to eighty took no time at all. It hugged the curves, was very agile, and an amazingly comfortable ride.

As a usability specialist, I couldn’t help but notice that all of the controls were exactly where you wanted them, and most made sense. The learning curve for this car was almost nonexistent.

I was sorry to return the VW. We shall ride again.


The Aftermath:
I have a deep bruise on my shoulder from carrying the kayak. I have raw bruises on my knees from where they rested against the walls of the boat. My arms and lower back muscles are sore from constant sweep strokes in my attempt to steer straight. I can only imagine what’s going on in my intestines, considering I ate naught but beef for 2 straight days. I’m exhausted from discomfort as well as lack of sleep. And I have the worst tan lines ever: I’m bronze on my hands and white from the wrist up.

Since I couldn’t take a “buffer day” off, I’m in the office writing emails about the trip and eating salad.

They can’t all be perfect vacations. My enjoyment outweighed my misery, though, and I did learn some skills. I’m going to call this a good one, if not one of my best.