One week to go!

Greetings, Gentle Reader,

One week to go.

Seven days from today, Brian and I will be pulling our first blades of water for real. He’s by the pool, of course, and I’m in a dark corner of the gym on Cross Street, but in one week all of the preparatory philosophies and practices will go into the waste basket and every physical and mental lapse in preparation will be exposed and ruthlessly exploited by wind, current, and distance.

Sounds like fun? It will be!

I’ve just read Steinbeck’s classic Travels with Charley. As he anticipates his journey across America, he writes, “A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all the plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find…that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us…Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the-glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away.”

Steinbeck reminds me, as I should already know from prior journeys, that the preoccupation with myriad details of planning and logistics will fall away the moment we settle into our sliding seats, grasp the perfect smooth cylinders of the oars, coil, and gently pull. At that moment we will be in the moment. Right now, all is future. In a week it will all make sense.

Gosh a’gory, Brian, it’s still hard to believe that I’m now using a plural pronoun. “We” seems so much more purposeful and indefatigable than “I”. “We” means we’re going to push off next Tuesday come what may. “I” might have meant that something could come up like, um, say, a doctor’s appointment or a busted pipe in the basement or finally getting the car in for a tune up. “We” means it all waits. “We” are leaving on the 21st. Will there be strength in numbers? Will we in fact be more capable, safer, and more resolute as a “we” than as an “I”? I am reminded of the quip on daughter Kate’s coffee cup, something to the effect that “No one of us is any dumber than all of us.” It makes sense on a cup…but will it also prove to be true on the mighty St Lawrence? Brian, I am so excited to have you along. I just hope I can keep up; you look so buff by the pool.

Gentle Reader, last time I promised to write a bit about my boat, the silent but more capable partner in this journey, and so I will shamelessly promote and illuminate. Note that in praising my vessel I also praise Brian’s, the difference being that mine is constructed of Kevlar with cherry trim while Brian’s is built from exquisite cedar, cherry, and other all-natural composites and is a story in itself…a thing of beauty that he is about to place in peril. In doing this, Brian has already proven his courage.

The link to Adirondack Guide Boat on this blog tells the tale better than I can. Suffice to say, the Adirondack Guide Boat is form following function. Double ended and round-bilged, the waterline increases as you load it, increasing both hull speed and stability if you keep the center of gravity low enough.. While from a distance it is often mistaken for a canoe, it is an entirely different vessel: once underway it tracks as if on rails, carries its own momentum with kindness, and is remarkably resistant to crosswinds. When on my sliding seat I can sustain a pace of 3.8 to 4.0 mph with relative ease in still water. I’ve seen as high as 11 mph on the GPS, surfing down huge rollers off New Jersey (scary!), and -5 (yes, minus five) just trying to stay upright while facing a stiff blow on the Delaware River (more scary!!), but the truth is that the Adirondack Guide Boat makes a trip like this possible because its many long suits compensate for my many shortcomings. There are faster boats and more stable boats and more high-tech boats, I suppose, but I don’t know of any boat that hits the sweet spot of compromise like the Adirondack Guide Boat. For a trip like this, which commands a compromise of speed, stability, and load-carrying ability, this is my boat. And, she is pretty.

One week to go. One week to go. One week, then row.

Finally, select Gentle Readers, thanks to you who have contributed to the fundraising initiative. The Pledge Paddles are beginning to move, and your generosity of spirit is most appreciated. Last Friday I said goodbye to my eighth graders as they graduated from Middle School, and truth be told, I’m suffering from a bit of separation anxiety from both them and my colleagues. Your donations to financial aid enable more than a few families to sustain the gift of a wonderful education to their sons, and that I get to participate in the experience and see the outcome of your generosity first-hand is yet another gift.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Mo’ Latah’!

Mr Frei