My brother-in-law and his wife own a condominium on the ocean's shore. At 71, he likes to stay active by bike riding, walking, and kayaking.

One day, he invited me to go kayaking with him. "Our neighbor has a kayak you're welcome to borrow. How about a week from Saturday?"

Not being very fond of the open water, especially aboard a tiny boat, I was hesitant, and with good precedent. When I was ten and my brother was sixteen, we rowed halfway out onto Lake George. My mother, who stood watching from the shore, said I made her nervous as I dangled my feet from the rear of the dingy. And there was the time when I capsized a sailboat while my wife and I were on our honeymoon in Nassau. (See: "Newlyweds in Nassau" - https://www.wattpad.com/1142108069-newlyweds-innassau). However, two years later, we went on a small trimaran cruise in the Mexican Caribbean without incident, but I wasn't "driving."

"Sure," I replied half-heartedly.

I may have been in error when I described the condo as "on the ocean's shore." It's actually within the quiet confines of a tiny cove, which is additionally protected from the vast Atlantic Ocean by Long Island. But the waters still run deep!

It was a beautiful sunny summer day as we set sail. My brother-in-law boarded his navy blue kayak, and I wiggled my butt into a borrowed faded red one.

We didn't venture as far out to the Sound as I had imagined we would. Instead, we maintained course within a few hundred yards of shore. As I paddled my way out to sea, I remembered a neighbor of mine who would kayak clear across Long Island Sound at midnight once a year. This is nothing - I thought.

The water was mainly smooth, maybe an occasional small wave from a light gust of wind or a distant motorboat - one reason we stayed close to land.

I began to enjoy our little adventure on the sea. But, I soon found myself struggling a bit to keep up with my brother-in-law, who is not only taller than me - thereby gaining more leverage as he paddled, but more athletic and more experienced in kayaking.

As we made our way toward an inlet, I remembered there was a brewery not far upstream called the Stony Stream Brewery. "Hey!" I shouted to my brother-in-law, who was now about 10 or 12 yards ahead of me, "Why don't we go farther up to the brewery and have a beer? I don't think it's too far."

Our plan to proceed to the store of suds was quickly nixed as we came upon a myriad of boaters in our path. Besides, I was getting tired of paddling upstream. I thought kayaking was supposed to be relaxing. My arms were tired, and my legs were numb. I was exhausted!

A few weeks later, when discussing our maritime adventure, my brother-in-law confessed, "I found out later that your kayak had a hole in it."

"Nice."

Story, Cover, and Photos Copyright © 2024 by Michael DeFrancesco