January 15, 2024
After my last post I got a email from a wise friend. He was wondering whether Swiftee may be experiencing any lack of seaworthiness, due to age and the craft’s polyethylene exposure to UV light. He told me it was the case of a canoe he once paddled with his wife. While paddling the stern broke completely off. He told me it might be worthwhile to give Swiftee a physical this winter.
Of course my mind began envisioning terrifying scenarios. Not just myself but what he and his wife actually must have went through. I will not take his suggestion lightly. Come spring an inspection will happen, for eventually, if not retired, there is some straw out there that will brake Swiftee’s back. Damned if I will do it in the winter. He’s in the garage and it’s cold out there.
I have stated before that when, and if, I reach The Arch, I will retire Swiftee. I just have to make it from Liverpool, IL (where I left off in 2023) to The Arch. Which will be about 175 stressful miles he’ll have to to endure.
My wise friend also inquired about Swiftee’s pronouns. Why do I refer to Swiftee with male pronouns when historically it seems every boat has been designated with she/her pronouns? Well, I do not have a definite answer, other than I look at him as my trusty pal, or my bro.
Yet, it made me wonder, when did I start referring to him as, my guy? I would have thought from the very beginning, Christmas 2004 when I got him. Or say, April 2005, when I began journaling our adventures? I was curious to know, so I delved into 19 seasons of kayak journals. After exhausting more time than the answer was really worth, I came up with an answer. It wasn’t until our chronicles were well into the ninth season. That being in Newark, NY on the Erie Canal, during the Runyak for Liberty. DAY 69 to be precise. In the write-up of October 26, 2013 were these paragraphs:
The dock was adjacent to the office of Newark Chamber of Commerce’s, “Welcome and Interpretation Center.” So, after pulling Swiftee onto the dock I went into the center to get permission to leave him overnight.
In the center I met Renee. She showed me where to cable Swiftee. He’s never had nicer confines as he did in Newark. Murals painted on the surrounding walls made it look as if Swiftee spent the night in a castle.
Why after nine years did I stop thinking of Swiftee as non-gender? I think I might have an explanation.
On the previous trip to the Erie Canal in August of 2013, along with me was a true real life trusty pal, my bro so to speak, Lonnie Rich. I always say that the 2,430 mile runyak from Oxford, MI to NYC was a solo runyak, but fact is Lonnie was with me on a 5-day trip near Rochester, NY. So, I did have a paddle partner for 31 miles of the total 1,200 paddle miles (<3%).
The first of the 5-days (DAY 63), after a 12 mile run, which Lonnie mostly biked, I didn’t have the key to the padlock that cabled Swiftee to a utility guy wire. I’d left it in my van, which was now 12 miles away. In the journal I wrote:
I became very unsettled but Lon remained calm. Not thinking straight I said I'd ride the bike back get the key, then drive the van back. But that meant there would be no van when we finished kayaking. Lon’s first idea was to bike into Albion, which was a mile away, buy a hacksaw and cut Swiftee up to the free the cable.
“No! Don’t cut Swiftee!” I moaned. He later said it looked like I was about to cry. Seeing my reaction he come up with a second idea - buy bolt cutters and cut the lock instead.
I like to think of myself as a rational man, but obviously, I’d become emotionally attached to an inanimate object. I don’t believe that’s what human emotions were designed to do.
So, is it just a coincidence that in the following trip’s write-up I began writing about Swiftee with male gender pronouns?
I do have one other inanimate object that is as dear to me as my kayak, that is my guitar, which once in a while I do refer to as Martin or Marty. If ever I walked into a room and saw Martin smashed to bits, I’d breakdown, screaming and wailing. Kind of like when the Tinman saw this dad, (the water tower) destroyed:
Any person (my opinion) who can get that emotionally attached to inanimate objects should not be allowed to have pets. Because I choose not to have pets, people may think of me as a cat or dog-hater. It’s more the opposite. I can’t handle the mourning process that occurs when they die. I already have enough humans that I have to go through that process with in my life.
In my twenties I had a dog. His name was Comrade. He is the only dog, or cat I ever claimed as my own. I don’t plan on having another pet, unless there comes a time I’m in need of a comrade.
The next six or seven publications, until May, will be like the last two published. I’ll not be writing in a captain’s log style about Runyak DAY #. I’m looking for topics. This episode came about by a reader’s question and concern. If you have any questions or concerns please send them. They could be helpful.
Great history of Swiftee! A trustworthy friend, indeed.