I tried stand-up paddle boarding for the first time on the weekend and fell completely in love. This was after several summers scoffing as paddlers in beachwear became a common feature dotting the shoreline, disregarding it as neither exercise nor sport nor transportation.

The weekend was the first camping trip of the summer up at Alice Lake, just north of Squamish, and my friends Vincent and Anjeni came fully prepared with the kit to kite surf, paddle board and snorkel. Surveying the tranquil waters of the dime-sized lake, Vincent pulled this MEC inflatable paddle board from its backpack. I was begrudgingly intrigued. I’m a sucker for self-propelled, foldable, lightweight equipment and was impressed how quick it was to pump into a firm but easily portable board. I watched him paddle around the lake with the same wary eye – it’s nothing impressive to watch.

“It’s an incredibly calming activity.” Anjeni mused in a faraway lilt that hinted at glorious, exotic hideaway beaches she – my world-traveling friend from Trinidad – must have paddled.

 

Then it was my turn. And so, here are my 3 lesson that I learned from the board that day.

1. Delight is finding the familiar in the new.
From the first stroke of the paddle, I was transported back to my farm, eight years old and learning how to canoe with my dad in the little heart-shaped lake on our land – marveling at how our strokes made the boat edge forward through the water – “am I moving the boat or the water?” I remember thinking.

“Oh! It’s just like paddling a canoe and I love to canoe.” I exclaimed to Anjeni and Vincent who watched from the boardwalk. As an undergraduate, I became a canoe instructor and spent three sun-soaked summers leading voyageur canoe trips for happy campers down the North Saskatchewan river in the heart of Edmonton. I loved the magnificent synergy of the group as we surged down the river, the same river that Quebec and Métis voyageurs from Montreal or Hudson’s Bay traveled hundreds of years ago to trade whisky, tobacco and other goods for beaver pelts and pemmican from the natives and trappers at this most northern post. I had forgotten this very primal joy and was delighted to discover it again in this very unassuming activity.

2. Trust yourself to balance.
Everyone has a script they run through when they’re trying something new for the first time.

Will I be able to do this? Will I look silly, stupid, foolish? Is anyone watching me? What if I fail?

Some verbalize it while others deeply internalize it. I have learned to externalize my inner critic, summoning up a samurai warrior whose words are a swift sword capable of piercing my armor of confidence. I have trained this warrior to balance on that sword instead of using it against me. From the moment I pushed off from the boardwalk, my samurai sat cross-legged on the bow of my board, surveying with satisfaction the open water and possibilities of routes ahead.

“You looked so balanced, so comfortable on the board, Jodie!” Anjeni exclaimed when I returned to shore. “Thanks! It was very relaxing, just like you said.” I responded, feeling like a peaceful warrior.

3. Get comfortable in the uncomfortable.
The next day we headed to the choppy seas along the Squamish river dyke so Vincent could kite surf. The winds were gusting at 20 knots/hr – perfect for catching the waves and the dyke was alive with a flock of kites. I was going to try paddle boarding again out of harms way from the surfers zipping and flipping through water and air in the adventurous head waters. Squeezing myself into Vincent’s old wetsuit, grunting and gasping to get it up and over sticking points that he clearly didn’t have a problem with as an 18-year-old!

Once ensconced and zipped into my life jacket I pushed off on the eastern side of the dyke towards calmer waters.

“Make sure you can…” Vincent hollered after me, as I paddled confidently away out into the centre, his voice getting lost in the wind. In a few easy strokes I was 50 metres away.

“What?” I tried for a j-stroke to come back to shore and then quickly realized I was dealing with a different beast. I could hardly control the board, the wind and current a dual-force that rendered my gentle paddling ineffective. I needed to focus on getting back, using core muscles to keep upright and firm strokes, pulling in time with hard breaths, zig-zaging my way back to shore.

“What was that?” I asked, shaken, but not stirred, once safely back on shore.

“Make sure you can come back!” was the apropos advice. Right! I headed out again, determined to learn the rhythm of this strange waters. In the struggles with the waves, I forgot all that was familiar, paddled erratically, trying this and that, until eventually my samurai gleefully slapped my board with his sword and I skidded off the stern and splash! into the ocean I went.

My samurai gleefully slapped my board with his sword and I skidded off the stern and splash! into the ocean I went.

I gasped out a laugh – it was refreshingly cool as I hadn’t realised how much I was overheating in my vacuum-packed suit. With a few hearty strokes I collected my board and paddle and wriggled my way back with all the grace as a sea lion mounting a sun rock. It was only then that Vincent’s other piece of advice rang clear, “Drop to your knees if you need to find your balance.” Right again! After that I practiced dropping to my knees and getting up again, in one fluid motion. Again and again. I became comfortable with the uncomfortable and kept my eyes on the shore.

And with these lessons, I’m already scheming my next adventure: paddling home from UBC one day after work! I’d walk down to Wreck Beach after work, pumping the board up and paddle the English Bay shoreline. Care to join me on this adventure!?

Photos by the lovely Anjeni.