SNOWBIRDS

When we visited the Salton Sea last January, we soon realized we were surrounded by RVers from Canada who had fled the cold Canadian winter to enjoy sunshine and warmth. This winter, the Salton Sea is probably crowded with “snowbirds” from most of the United States as well; so far only California and Arizona seem to have escaped the punishing record cold.

Of course, the Canadian snowbirds go back north in the springtime to escape the Salton Sea’s heat, which can be wretched in summer.  Death Valley, not far to the west, is actually a test of survival for some people: When we were there one March, a man from our campground  wandered just a short distance into the desert, where he became lost. Search-and-rescue crews were unable to locate him, and he died in the heat.

RVers can migrate easily with the seasons, avoiding both fire and ice. Fire became a threat for us when we spent a few days at Lassen Volcanic National Park in 2012. Forest fires in the surrounding area became so intense that the sky was blackened with smoke, interfering with the astronomy program that had drawn us to the park, and we left early. In a couple of days we were home, where the skies were clear.

Humans and other animals can migrate to more favorable climates, but plants cannot. In the Sierra Nevada mountains, where the temperature has risen firs and pines are dying at higher rates than usual. It is likely that our iconic giant sequoias will also be affected during the next century if temperatures in California rise as predicted.[1] In Vermont, warmer winters during the past decade have affected the maple trees, leading to less maple syrup production.

Monarch butterflies have a well-known pattern of migration that is changing because of earlier spring thaws. This can ultimately cause the butterflies to remain in Mexico rather than return to the United States at the needed time.[2]

The ocean near southeast Australia is warming at a faster rate than elsewhere in the world, and invertebrates including abalones and sea urchins are in danger. Lab studies have shown their larvae develop abnormally under conditions predicted for 2100.[3]

According to the National Wildlife Federation, “polar bears rely heavily on Arctic sea ice, which is rapidly disappearing due to global warming. In Hudson Bay, polar bears are starving during the long summer months as the ice they rely on to hunt for food melts earlier each spring and later in the fall.”

The examples go on and on, but you get the idea. All life on the planet is likely to be endangered by climate change.

There are still some who deny the reality of climate change. Ignoring data that clearly show global warming has occurred, they point to temporary shifts in weather like the record cold some areas are experiencing this year, and claim the planet will be fine. Some even try to use the Gaia hypothesis to suggest that natural checks and balances will regulate climatic conditions so well that human damage won’t matter. Personally, I think Gaia is pissed off, and not just about climate change. If we continue overpopulating the globe, using resources that cannot be replaced, and polluting our environment, she is likely to abandon us.

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[1] National Parks, Fall 2013.

[2] Scientific American, February 22, 2013

[3] Natural History, Sept 2011

MOTOR HOME SCHOOLING

The KOA laundry room seemed like an odd setting for discussing the philosophy of education, but who knew? The woman who was unloading a pile of sheets and pillowcases from the dryer turned out to be a teacher who was touring the country with her two middle-school children for a year. She had taken them out of their local school to expose them directly to the natural history and  culture of the United States. Being well qualified to teach them most subjects, she had some qualms about mathematics, and so they were also taking some online math classes.

At first I was horrified at the idea. How would these children ever make up the year of school they were missing? When they returned to school, how would they pass the annoying but inescapable standardized tests now used everywhere? (Might this woman be one of those nuts who refuses to have her children vaccinated, wants them taught about creationism rather than about evolution, or endangers them in other ways?)

Then I reconsidered. Was she not simply doing what education experts like John Dewey and Jean Piaget recommended? By experiencing specific instances of geography, ecology, and history, her children could be guided to form general, abstract concepts. We think of education as taking place in schoolrooms, and perhaps occasionally on field trips. However, students in a motorhome can take field trips every day. They can visit national and state parks, historic sites, interesting parts of cities. Museums with unique collections abound. Though these experiences are not enough in themselves to provide a good education, they can be used as starting points for discovery.

History and social studies come alive in visits to places such as the Statue of Liberty, the beacon that was the first sight of America for so many immigrants. Ellis Island provides information about a first step in immigration for the millions who came to the U.S. at the turn of the last century.

The images of four presidents at Mt. Rushmore are familiar to nearly everyone—indeed, they are a cliché--but seeing that gigantic sculpture in person is awe-inspiring. Children who visit Mt. Rushmore are likely to learn something about the presidents as well as be impressed with sculptor Gutzon Borglum’s work. A prepared teacher can ask questions like, “Which presidents are shown? You have heard about Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson; why do you think T.R. Roosevelt was included?”

By keeping a journal of their travels, children can improve their ability  to write and spell (without relying on a spellchecker!). They can illustrate the journals with their own art and photos.   

         

Much regional literature is based on what students may see in their RV travels. Depending on their age and maturity, they may want to read My Antonia, Spoon River Anthology, The Yearling, or The Grapes of Wrath, for instance. They will want to look up information in nonfiction, too;  because of my own RV experiences, I have bought some excellent field guides, biographies, and other books in visitors’ centers along the way. In many cases I have investigated some new interest and found references that would not be found easily elsewhere.

Geology in textbooks can be dull; in the Grand Canyon and other national parks of the Southwest, it becomes real. Paleontology, too, makes much more sense when a student can see fossils still imbedded in strata, as at Dinosaur National Monument. Volcanoes and fumaroles that are seen and smelled at Yellowstone or Lassen Volcanic National Park make an indelible first impression; both parks have much additional information at the visitors’ centers and around the parks.

Every year Acadia National Park has a Night Skies festival lasting a few days. Beginning with simple observations of the spectacular night skies visible on the Maine coast, children can be guided to learning some astronomy. If they learn a bit about the work of early astronomers, they will also absorb some geometry and understand its importance.

Glacier National Park still has a few glaciers, but children will soon learn that they are shrinking. This can lead to learning about global warming, changes in climate, and the effects on plants and animals that are occurring in all parts of the country.

Though natural history may seem like an old-fashioned subject that has been superseded by ecology and other modern scientific disciplines, children who have the chance to see plants and animals in their natural habitats, including the geological underpinnings, will gain an understanding that can lead to sophisticated concepts. Many leading biologists like E.O. Wilson began by studying ants and other living things in nature, not by watching videos about them.

The RV itself provides many opportunities for learning. Perhaps it has a solar panel that demonstrates that source of energy. (“What other energy sources are used in the RV? How are they used?”)  The propane and water tanks have limited capacities, as do the gray and black water tanks, and children can estimate how long it will be before refilling or emptying is needed. At every gas tank fill-up, they can find out how many miles per gallon the RV got on that tankful, and relate the result to the terrain.

Health and safety are continual concerns for those traveling in an RV. Children can help plan nutritious meals that can be easily prepared, make lists of medical supplies to be packed, and so on.

Map skills will emerge if students use a paper atlas instead of relying on a GPS. (“How far is it from here to Chicago? Which direction will we travel in? What are Chicago’s longitude and latitude?”)  They can draw their own maps of cities or parks they visit.

Many national parks have Junior Ranger programs for kids; these are advertised at the parks’ web sites, and a trip can be planned to take advantage of them. Besides being educational, these programs can ensure some contact with other youngsters. 

This informal approach to education is not without problems, of course. For one thing, reference books are usually available In a schoolroom, but few RVs can accommodate heavy books. This deficiency can be remedied somewhat by taking an electronic tablet along and using the Internet for information when Wi-Fi is available. Indeed, probably few modern children would consider traveling without their tablets! Visiting a public library every few days is another option (it makes a good combination with using a Laundromat).  Downloading some often-used references to a tablet or laptop computer is useful, also.

Gaining communication skills also may be difficult when students are not in a regular classroom. In addition to writing and illustrating journals, they can plan “show and tells” to give when they return home.

Soccer and other team sports may have to be sacrificed during RV travel. (I admit to a biased view that  this is not really much of a sacrifice.) Unless too much time is spent on driving rather than on exploring, much physical education happens naturally. Hiking and biking happen, and can make it easier to explore an area while leaving the RV at a campground.

Having spent my professional life as a science textbook writer and editor, of course I feel cautious about recommending this informal approach to education. A parent or grandparent planning to try it should be educated enough to guide a child’s learning. Also, classrooms and textbooks do provide organized curricula, instead of scattered experiences that may not meet national standards. If I could take a child across the country in my RV instead of leaving her in school for a year, I would prepare carefully by reviewing textbooks and standards for her grade level, so that in the excitement of investigating one subject, she would not bypass others. Like the teacher I met in the laundry room, I have some anxiety about math, and would arrange for online courses or tutoring. No doubt I would learn a few things myself.

           

            

RV ENTROPY

More chaos than usual

Some RVs are spic and span, and I suppose their owners’ permanent homes are just as neat and clean. Everything is arranged so well that the spices are probably in alphabetical order, and the towels stacked according to color. Disgusting!

Such perfection seems to violate the law of entropy. Like that in any system, the order in an RV should gradually devolve into chaos. In our Winnebago View, the breakdown tends to happen rather quickly. We may begin the day with everything in its place, but by nightfall the table is littered with pens and pencils, the laptop computer, flash drives, dirty dishes, sketching materials, and perhaps our latest leaf collection. Almost the only thing that moves us to restore order is the prospect of driving, which of course must be done with nothing that can become a flying projectile. 

I would love to have a perfectly clean, organized RV, but it will probably never happen. Even when we have restored order on the surface, and locked the doors on the cluttered cabinets, it is only a temporary fix that can’t last long. What relieves me of guilt is the memory of my favorite book about housework, Nobody Said You Have to Eat off the Floor, by Carol G. Eisen. The author, a psychiatrist’s wife, emphasizes that some tasks are necessary for safety and health, some are important for making it possible to find things and for being considerate of other people, but many can be done minimally or occasionally. Housework can be done according to priorities.

Applying Eisen’s principles  to the RV, we are careful to follow instructions in the owner’s manual about oil changes, tires, and other maintenance; this is a no-brainer, as neglecting the View’s mechanical condition could endanger our lives.  For the same reason, we do make sure that everything is put away in the cabinets and drawers for travel mode. We have a special bag for our prescriptions and other medical supplies, and keep it near the door where it can be picked up in any emergency. 

As we prize being able to take pictures and to keep daily records of our travels, we are usually careful about keeping the camera close at hand; the camper’s log is always replaced where it belongs, next to the entertainment center, when not in use. Being environmentalists, we make sure to leave any campsite at least as clean as we found it. 

To minimize most motorhomework, we start each trip with a clean interior that doesn’t require much work on the road. I am very fond of Murphy’s oil soap, which has an appealing odor. Anything that has been cleaned with it seems to repel dirt.  I use Murphy’s on all surfaces, including the floor. If necessary, a little ammonia can be added for extra cleaning. 

One of the many features of our View that we appreciate is the cabover bed. In the morning we simply spread the Travasak cover to air the inside, then lift the bed to the ceiling. We hardly ever have to actually make the bed. The picture above shows unusual chaos; we don’t ordinarily use the sofa bed!

WINTER SOLSTICE

Today is December 21. The shortest days of the year are past, and from now on they will gradually grow longer. It will be good to see  the sun early in the morning again, instead of this dismal dark sky.

I’m pretty much a morning person. In summer I love getting up early, seeing the new day dawning before most people are awake. It’s harder in winter, though. When the windows are dead black, a wind is blowing, and the house is cold, staying in bed is too tempting.

When I was going to school or working full time, I sometimes sat down at my desk before the sun rose. I could think clearly then, uninterrupted by whatever dark events and thoughts clouded my mind later. One spring, for a class in animal behavior I even went to a nearby swamp at sunrise every day to make a study of redwings’ courtship behavior. It was a magical time of day, with pale golden light filtering through the trees, and only the birds for company.

A few years later, I found myself crossing San Francisco Bay in a ferry boat before dawn a few times a week. The moon and stars shone in an inky sky above the bay. By the time I reached The City, the sun had risen, illuminating the Transamerica Pyramid and Coit Tower.  I had drunk some coffee and read the morning Chronicle, ready for whatever the day would bring.

Today is all too short, and I am much older. The sun rose at 7:20, and will set at 4:48. Less than ten hours of light! I woke early in the darkness, and turned on some holiday lights while breakfasting. Tonight I will light  a candle on the dinner table. I will delay the night.

FED UP!

I’m tired of all the grousing about Obamacare, all the insistence on gun owners’ rights under the Second Amendment, all the right-wing nastiness in general. What has happened in this country to common sense and compassion?

Those who object to contributing to health care that doesn’t immediately benefit them are simply deluding themselves. Do they not realize that at any moment they may be diagnosed with a serious disease, or be in a traffic accident requiring major surgery? If that happens, they will need a great deal of  money—far more than most people have available—to pay the medical bills. That is what insurance is for.

For many years, I paid for health insurance that included obstetrical benefits, though I was unable to have children. Was that fair? Of course it was; when I have occasionally required medical care for other reasons, the health insurance that others pay into has helped me pay for that care. Similarly, for a long period when my late husband was young and very healthy, he paid into the system. When he later had the heart disease and diabetes that required a sextuple bypass and the amputation of his leg, the bills were partly paid by insurance.

This sharing of responsibility extends to other social obligations, such as everyone’s paying for schools and police protection.  Such sharing is part of the social contract that makes a civilized society possible.

Unfortunately, it sometimes seems doubtful that our society is civilized. A year after the massacre of small children in Newtown, there is little progress in limiting the availability of guns and ammunition. Instead, many states have actually weakened restrictions on them.

Even John Boehner has spoken out about how the far right has hampered normal government operations.  Perhaps if Boehner and other Republicans can rein in the Tea Party-backed representatives, there is a chance that Congress will recover its sanity. I am not very hopeful, but it’s possible.

THE COMMA, AND ROBERT FROST

The Robert Frost Stone House museum

When we traveled through Vermont this fall, I was eager to see the stone house where Robert Frost—one of my favorite poets--lived in the 1920s. The house is now a small museum, with family pictures and enlargements of selections from Frost’s books and letters  covering the walls. Though not as spectacular as some writers’ homes, the museum is a feast for any Frost enthusiast.

One piece of correspondence especially fascinated me. It was Frost’s caustic letter to his editor regarding “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” that poem beloved by thousands of us. The editor had added commas to Frost’s original line, “The woods are lovely dark and deep,”  resulting in the familiar “lovely, dark, and deep” we have all seen in the published poem. Frost was obviously infuriated by the change. As a rather comma-happy editor myself, I could imagine myself automatically adding commas in the same places, and felt some sympathy for the editor. But Frost was right, of course—both the rhythm of the poem and the connotation of the line were changed by the added commas.

Coincidentally, the issue of Harper’s that came out while I visited Frost’s home contained a short story by Joyce Carol Oates, “Lovely, Dark, and Deep.” (It did not mention the commas.) Though clearly fiction, it was a slightly veiled sharp attack on Frost’s character. Using various sources, Oates quoted Frost’s children and associates about how he had mistreated those around him.  It is impossible to tell how much of Oates’s material is true, and how much is fictional. Whether Frost is as awful as he seems in this short story (which may well be true, from what I have read in other places) or not cannot be known with certainty. Because I find much meaning in his poetry, I hope he was a finer person than Oates pictured him.                                       

This lack of clarity troubles me, not just in regard to this story, but about combining fiction and history in general. What might be libelous in a nonfiction article is not in a short story, where the author is protected from accountability.

RECORDING NATURE

So many RVers, especially full-timers, have creative hobbies that they continue on the road. Some people knit, do woodworking, or absorb themselves in other crafts.  Some devise elaborate recipes for RV-friendly dishes that can be taken to potlucks at rallies. I envy them; such skills have always escaped me (my head is usually buried in a book). While we are traveling I do continue blogging and other writing, but that is rather abstract until it results in actual publication. I’d like to do something tangible.

Being a member of the California Native Plant Society, I recently read their curriculum guide Opening the World through Nature Journaling, which helps teachers integrate science, art, and literature. One section in particular appealed to me:  instructions for sketching and writing in a nature journal. This could be what I’m seeking as a craft for myself. 

Before photography became possible, naturalists like Darwin and Linnaeus drew accurate and appealing sketches in their field notes. Even today, biologists often find sketches indispensable for making complete notes in the field. 

As a college student, I enjoyed both a basic art class and the botany and zoology classes where I drew hundreds of cat muscles, chick embryos, flower parts, and so on. Though I never became an artist, I learned to use sketching as an essential tool for observing plants and animals closely. During my years as a biology textbook writer and editor, I made many rough sketches for professional artists to use in illustrating everything from starfishes to redwoods.

It is one thing to draw and paint in an editorial office having lots of space and tools; it is quite another to do so in a compact RV. Luckily, the curriculum guide emphasized using colored pencils and small pads of paper. All my journaling materials fit in a plastic pouch no larger than an iPad, and I can easily slip the pouch into a daypack with my binoculars and water bottle.

Living on the western slope of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, I never lack for living things to sketch near home. We have oaks, pines, and deer; even the rare bear may show up (though in that case I probably would abandon my sketching). On the road, the possibilities are even more inviting. We often see living things we want to identify, and take photos of them, but a detailed annotated sketch can provide much more helpful info. When I have a chance later to check a reference book, I can look at my journal to find out whether a plant’s leaves are opposite or alternate, or how many stripes are on an insect’s abdomen—information that may not be obvious in a photo, no matter how attractive the photo is.

It has been many years since my college art class, and I doubt that my colored-pencil sketches will ever be considered works of art. They will be useful for careful observation, though, and the journal will be a concrete result of my new craft. 

THE FULL-TIMERS

Coming home after a few months on the road seems very luxurious. I can relax in a bubble bath, putter with flowers that the deer haven’t eaten in my absence, lie in a bed without climbing a ladder to reach it. I can sign up for a class, attend book club meetings, catch up on local politics. For a while, I want to stay home forever.

Soon, though, life seems boring. I long to see something new outside my window every morning, visit a park or museum I’ve never seen before, meet some new people having kindred interests. I want to get in the RV and go back on the road.

Lately we have cautiously been toying with the possibility of becoming full-timers. According to some Web sites, there are about a million people in the U.S. who are on the road nearly all the time, traveling from one campsite to another every few weeks or oftener. Could we manage it?

We met one retired couple who have been full-timing for the past ten years. After selling their large home, they bought a fairly large motorhome and added a small car as a “toad.” They established a permanent address in a state where there is no income tax, and where their daughter lives. They can visit—and leave—easily. A mail forwarding service takes care of sending mail to them when needed.

Like us, this couple cares deeply about state and national parks. They spend most of the year doing volunteer work in various parks, a few weeks at a time. (There is always a limit in the amount of time a volunteer can stay in one place; the campsite cannot become a permanent residence.)  This gives them free camping privileges and a very small allowance (necessary because food in the parks tends to be quite expensive). During periods when they are not volunteering, they stay in a variety of RV campgrounds and resorts. They seem very contented with their way of life.

The chance to do volunteer work of our choosing is one of the most appealing aspects of full-timing. As retired educators, we are in a position to be of some help with teaching or writing, but local opportunities are not always available or a good fit for us. If we were able to move around more, we could fairly easily find something we really want to do.

Gardening at home can be enjoyable, especially with native plants, but in a national park it could be even better; we could work with others to maintain a natural landscape for everyone’s enjoyment. I once saw a woman working at a Kentucky state park wearing a stylish gardening hat, lineny pants, and so on; she was the picture of a wealthy suburban matron gardening for pleasure. But there she was, happily digging in the dirt and helping contribute to the park’s garden rather than her own. As full-timers, we could do that also.

Long-term learning is important to both of us; we spend a great deal of time in the local library, and depend on it for books and magazines as well as occasional lectures and movies. That might be a problem if we were full-timing; perhaps we could get temporary library cards or invest in a mobile device for downloading books. Even in a large RV, though, we could not have the personal library we inevitably accumulate.

Speaking of books, perhaps the greatest sacrifice I would have to make is giving up my home office. For many years, I have been able to surround myself with the books and tools I need as a writer and editor. In finishing the final draft of a reference book a few years ago while we were traveling across the country, I found it extremely difficult to meet my deadlines. Even now, though I avoid making commitments to publishers, and do more blogging than any other writing, I can scarcely imagine not having a permanent office somewhere.

Some full-timers miss having wall space for displaying art and photos. We have already disposed of the large paintings that could be a problem, and we can look at our thousands of digital photos on a laptop computer. A small bulletin board holds some 3 x 5 photos and sketches.

Financially, the decision seems fairly easy. Even if we traded in our beloved View on a larger RV, which would probably be essential, we would spend no more as full-timers than we do now in a permanent home where we must pay property taxes, state income taxes, and many other expenses. If we remained in the West, we could find plenty of desirable campgrounds within a few hundred miles, and that would hold down the cost of gasoline. On longer trips, we could simply drive fewer miles each day.

Even emotionally—the greatest danger, perhaps—it seems like a good choice for us. We are not so involved in our local town that leaving it would be difficult, and we could always return to visit friends. We could become part of a larger “community beyond these walls,” as one church puts it. The park rangers, fellow RVers, and others we meet would make up much of our new community. There is also an extremely supportive community of RVers. The View-Navion site on Yahoo has helped us for the past few years with using our View, and we have met some of the members in person at rallies and on the road. If we have to get a larger rig, I will greatly miss that site! Many blogs about full-timing look appealing; one I have found good is http://wheelingit.wordpress.com. Joe and Vicky Kieva, who wrote a monthly column for the Good Sam magazine until they retired in 2012, are already well known to most RVers. Their blog is at http://rvknowhow.blogspot.com/. They must have taken retirement seriously, as they have not updated their posts, but the archived posts are still available.

I do have some qualms about the long-term outcome of full-timing, especially since neither of us has children to help us. If one of us becomes ill, will it be impossible to find medical care? What about assisted living when we can no longer drive? Until we learn more and feel more comfortable with the decision, it seems more sensible to maintain a home as a permanent residence. That can become very expensive, but if eventually we decide not to full-time, we will be grateful to have kept a home of bricks and mortar rather than one of fiberglass and metal.

THAT YOUNGER GENERATION

Recent magazine articles have shown some interesting statistics about the millenials. Compared with their parents, young people are driving less and postponing having children for a longer time. Perhaps surprisingly, a smaller percentage of them see themselves as doing anything positive for the environment.

I beg to differ with their self-assessment. While they may be unconscious of their contribution, the constraints imposed by population growth and pollution controls have forced them to have a lifestyle differing from their parents’. By default, they are helping the environment in some ways.

As recently as 20 years ago, getting a driver’s license was an important rite of passage for every teenager. Being able to drive meant freedom! Having a driver’s license and a car, you could get away from home some of the time, go out with your friends, and explore the world without continual adult supervision.  Today, much exploration occurs online, and friends are in near-permanent communication on their cell phones and computers. Driving is much less necessary. Young people even seem to prefer public transportation if it is reasonably priced and convenient. The environmental benefits are obvious: Fewer resources are used for building and fueling cars, and fewer pollutants are being produced. The millenials can be very proud of this change, even if they see it as a personal choice or a necessary evil.

The millenials are staying single longer, too, and living with roommates or their parents for a longer time than we did. By postponing parenthood, which usually leads to having smaller families, they are helping control the population growth that is a major factor in environmental decline. By living in smaller apartments or homes, they are taking up less space on our crowded planet.

Unfortunately, the choices that many of us older people made years ago have resulted in the pollution and crowding that have led to the millenials’ need to be more conserving. We started driving cars as soon as possible, married young, had children in our early twenties, bought homes at the first opportunity and filled them with expensive appliances and furniture. We wasted resources and used fossil fuels with abandon. During the dot-com years, some of us built disgusting McMansions (in fact, some of us are still doing so). We literally ate “high on the hog,” consuming large quantities of the meat that has helped lead to heart disease, diabetes, and obesity; and that required huge investments in agriculture. Many young people today have chosen to become vegetarians rather than imitate us. In that respect as well as others, they are contributing far more to the environment than most of us did.

I do have some concerns about young people. For instance, their dependence on technology in place of direct contact with other people and places seems bad for their emotional health, even if it may benefit the planet. They seem narcissistic, though perhaps young people always seem that way to their elders. On balance, the millenials seem capable of managing Earth better than we did. I wish them well.

FEAR OF KAYAKING

I enjoy being on the water--in ferry boats and similar stable vehicles, that is. Even rowboats and canoes are enjoyable providing the water is smooth. But I am really spooked by kayaks.

When did it start? Probably back in the eighties, when I was persuaded to go whitewater rafting in Colorado. The raft trip itself through rocks and cascades was terrifying enough, but the sight of a kayak turning upside down in the rapids, and the man in it desperately trying to right himself with an eskimo roll, panicked me.

A couple of years ago my partner cajoled me into getting an inflatable two-person kayak that we could take with us in the RV. It travels under the dinette table quite well, almost leaving room for our feet. In theory it is the perfect boat for RVers, being light and portable. In practice it is my bête noire. I have always found an excuse to stay out of it, encouraging Thane to paddle about alone. (He has greatly enjoyed it.)

This couldn’t last forever. Recently we were staying at a lovely streamside campground in Maine, with a small boat dock right next to our camp site. The weather was fine, we had nothing else to do, and I could think of no excuse. So, we inflated the kayak and climbed in. Or, I should say Thane climbed in, and I started to. The kayak put out to sea while I clung to a post on the dock until my grip loosened and I fell into the water. Luckily, the water was shallow, but it was muddy and cold. Never again!