{"id":31862,"date":"2024-02-13T16:01:02","date_gmt":"2024-02-14T00:01:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/?p=31862"},"modified":"2024-02-14T19:22:42","modified_gmt":"2024-02-15T03:22:42","slug":"the-lasting-effects-of-cousins-kayak-camp","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/2024\/02\/13\/the-lasting-effects-of-cousins-kayak-camp\/","title":{"rendered":"The Lasting Effects of “Cousins Kayak Camp”"},"content":{"rendered":"

There I was, upside down in 35-degree water on the Wolf River in northern Wisconsin. I pulled my skirt and vowed I would never kayak again. I was ten.<\/p>\n

Two of my cousins, my brother, and I were at \u201cCousins Kayak Camp,\u201d organized by my Uncle Dan, an avid whitewater kayaker. His paddling career had spanned multiple decades with descents on most major Western rivers.<\/p>\n

Uncle Dan was optimistic that after four days of kayaking lessons on the Class II\/III section of the Wolf, we\u2019d be hooked. He was right\u2013eventually.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Cousins Kayak Camp circa 2002<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Every day, my two cousins, my brother and I would hike to the gear shed from our gravel campsite. Uncle Dan had booked instruction through a look outfitter for the weekend. Our instructor, JJ, would set us up with damp booties, musty wetsuits and faded PFDs. The neoprene would prove to do little to keep out the cold.<\/p>\n

JJ would then help us get our kayaks to the river and patiently hold the skirt on the back of the cockpit while we stretched it around the perimeter.<\/p>\n

We paddled around in slow-moving current. JJ taught us how to peel out of eddies, how to ferry, how to master the ever-important wet exit.<\/p>\n

Uncle Dan paddled around effortlessly in his yellow surf boat, helping JJ clean up the carnage each time we flipped and pulled our skirts, which we did every couple of minutes.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Cousins Kayak Camp circa 2002<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

After practicing our peel-outs and ferries in Class I, it was time to float downstream and progress our skills with more current. Our orange and blue boats scraped into each other in a clumsy bid to be next to JJ, paddling skills forgotten. Our bickering echoed through the Wisconsin forest as we pushed each other out of the way with our paddles.<\/p>\n

We floated into the Class II section. The riffles might as well have been waterfalls as cousin after cousin flipped on every eddyline, crashed into every shallow rock. Children were strewn about, flaunting our perfectly executed wet exits. We floated proudly downstream with our feet up as JJ had told us to do, paddles and boats abandoned. Uncle Dan and JJ frantically collected the debris, shouting at us to swim to the muddy shore.<\/p>\n

At the end of day one, we dragged our feet back to camp, exhausted from paddling and, mostly, swimming. Uncle Dan helped us carry our kayaks back to the warehouse, our booty-clad feet squelching with cold water.<\/p>\n