2008 Final Trip Report
This page contains photos and comments about the completed trip.
2008 Photo Gallery
Lynda and Mo’s Final Reflections: Paddlin’ for Paws 2008
(Lynda has written this final report for the two paddlers, who brainstormed notes together about their trip highlights.)
I can’t believe this trip is already behind us. After months of intense preparation and uncertainty (Would we bring in money? Where would we tie up our kayaks each night? Could we safely paddle that feared last leg?), we have returned to our “regular” lives. My frequent email and phone communications with Mo will now turn to figuring final trip costs to work out between us, and in five or six months we’ll get in touch about what next year’s adventure might be. (One exception is that we will play in a three-on-three basketball tournament at the end of September, which happens to coincide with my 51st birthday. This is my final year of an 18-year run with this tourney. Mo has served as a sub for the past few years.)
I’ve had trouble finding time to get to this final report now that my semester is in full force. Even though I must now be consumed with other things, I’m sure I will pause now and then to remember this event fondly.
A number of highlights stand out in our minds when looking back on Paddlin’ for Paws. We liked being challenged in the face of uncertainty regarding logistical details, our physical condition, and lake conditions. There was a wonderful sense of freedom and serenity in jumping into our kayaks daily and paddling at our own pace around one of the world’s most beautiful lakes. We particularly liked the peaceful feeling and calm waters of early morning.
Both Mo and I love meeting and swapping stories with strangers during our travels. So, that was a cherished part of this event, along with the more spontaneous moments. Missing our intended lunch stop the second day led to a kayaker inviting us to sit on her lakefront patio to enjoy a great view and snacks we toted with us. Our host Lin told us the story of her rescued cat Sluggo, a sad story with a good ending (although my animal sensitivities led me to fixate on the sad part for some time after I resumed paddling). A man in the lunch line with us at Chambers Landing told us a corny animal joke that he thought we might want to share as we’d make our way along the lake. (I will spare the details here, but feel free to email me if you can’t stand the suspense.) We had a nice lunch conversation at the Beacon Bar & Grill at Camp Richardson with Dawn Armstrong (Executive Director) and Liz Maul (Outreach and Education Manager) of South Lake Tahoe’s Humane Society and S.P.C.A., an organization we served during this trip.
For many years I have wanted to kayak out to visit the remnants of the late-1920s stone teahouse atop Emerald Bay’s Fannette Island. I have also wanted to participate in a full-moon paddle. I got to do both at once, and Mo and I remember this as one of our more treasured trip moments. By coincidence we camped at Emerald Bay on the night of a full moon. With Dennis Liebl and two other Lake Tahoe Water Trail members, as well as two of our “paddle pals,” we paddled the three-quarter mile or so trip on calm, black waters under a bright, round moon. We secured our kayaks and trekked up to the teahouse, where we sat and enjoyed the evening sights and sounds of Emerald Bay in the company of other paddlers.
Despite the threat of dark skies and thunder, it was pretty cool to paddle the last part of our Sunday leg amidst big raindrops falling on and about us. This day portended bad weather to come, as the wind and waves really kicked up thereafter. Luckily, the next day was our shortest, which helped us stay optimistic and prepared us for the final day. But we sure liked seeing paddle pal Celia Ranson’s Paddlin’ for Paws t-shirt as a yellow speck in the distance waiting for us at Cave Rock at the end of that day.
We also loved the final 2.5-3 miles of our 72-mile journey. Seeing chimney beach, which represented familiar turf and close proximity to our finish, completely changed our moods on that final, most-challenging day on choppy, potentially dangerous waters. The lake suddenly felt like an amusement park that swapped serious demeanors and noncommunication with whoops of fun and wave-riding and photo-snapping. There’s something exhilarating and liberating about making it to safety under threat, but we realize these scenarios could easily have gone another direction.
For once our usual focus on food paled in comparison with other parts of this trip. But we certainly do remember with tingling taste buds our first sit-down meal an hour after beginning the trip. We particularly recall this breakfast buffet at the Hyatt’s Sierra Café in Incline Village, as well as our Baileys-enhanced hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream on the beach of Zephyr Cove our final night. It seems that our best food memories were at the trip beginning and end, which seems fitting.
As with any rich and worthwhile life event, this one had its challenges. Because I was the point person for the media, paddle pals, and visitors during the trip, in addition to having necessary contacts with my house/cat sitter and engaging a work-related call or two, it seemed that my cell phone was glued to my ear the first two days, both on and off the water. That was necessary, but the level of use, which thankfully subsided for the latter part of the trip, detracted a bit from my experience and probably somewhat from Mo’s due to me not being able to be fully “present.”
Except for our especially early start the final day (under duress, of sorts), we struggled to launch at our intended times. Getting gear together and chatting with paddle pals and such delayed us almost daily. Good weather early on and our faster-than-expected paddle times also caused us to become a little too comfortable. But the end part of the trip taught us to respect the lake, and we would know that for next time. If we were to do this again, we would also like to simplify, perhaps by carrying our own camping equipment so there would be less coordination with others and less commitment to afternoon/evening schedules.
Portaging our kayaks and gear, in addition to knowing where to tie them safely, were regular challenges. For two middle-aged women with neck/back problems, trying to tote these unwieldy boats, made much heavier by stored equipment, was difficult, especially when moving uphill. We bungied a small tote cart onto the front of one kayak throughout the trip. That was helpful at times, but it couldn’t be used in soft sand. And some places were not prepared for overnight kayakers. We were told to put our kayaks on top of our cars (which we didn’t have) for the night, carry them to distant camp sites, rent a $50+ boat slip to store them, or tie them up along the water some distance from us. At Meeks Bay Resort & Marina, someone erroneously told us to enter the boat storage/launch area. We were subsequently told more than once we shouldn’t be there but waited as instructed amid boat traffic for at least half an hour until someone finally told us what to do, which was to carry the dang things to our camp site. Wish they’d told us that earlier instead of subjecting us to wasted time, boater glares, and being yelled at by busy staff: “Miss Kayaker, get out of the way!”
Of course, we had physical challenges, hard to admit for two aging athletes/outdoorswomen who want to believe we can continue to “do it all” for the rest of our lives. My severely burnt lower lip on day two (due to my laziness in not applying sunscreen) nagged me greatly throughout the trip. I felt like I had had collagen injections and that my lip was about to burst. I also realized that the bad burning sensation was a ring of ulcers that had developed along the inside of the lip. My student (and webmaster, house/cat sitter) Stephanie, when visiting on Saturday of the trip, told me she had thought I was wearing lipstick and hadn’t planned to mention it until I complained about my lip. (I jokingly asked why she would think I’d wear lipstick on a kayaking trip when I don’t wear it any other time.) My right arm went totally numb the last four of six nights from campground sleeping or paddling or both. Mo also experienced ongoing numbness in her right hand. Both of us could be seen shaking out our right hands to try to revive them, but we knew that wasn’t the issue—it was stenosis, degeneration, and bone spurs in our lower neck that only a physical therapist could address later. We both also had multiple bruises on the upper back half of both legs for whatever reason. Those and a few bushwhacking scratches seemed small, though, compared to the other ailments.
As noted, the weather during the last part of the trip was a challenge. I had hoped to be able to make many stops during that last 13-mile section to break it up. I had wanted to sun on rocks for snack breaks, swim in briskly cool waters, and listen to my new iPod while kayaking. But we mainly paddled furiously without talking to maintain alert senses amid cold, choppy waters.
All in all, this was an amazing experience that—like all good things—passed too soon. We greatly appreciate people who helped us pull off this trip, individuals and businesses who showed generosity by donating to our effort, visitors who came to see and support us during our journey, paddlers who joined us for a few trip segments, and the strangers we met along the way. As the one responsible for the Paddlin’ for Paws email account, I must add that I continue to be touched by the emotion, gratitude, and support evident in some of the email messages we have received. This was also true in face-to-face encounters at times.
Mo and I are very excited to be able to provide funding to several animal-welfare organizations. We will probably extend our donation deadline to the end of October. (I will be the guest on a local television program called “We the People” to be taped Sept. 3. Because it will air in late September or October, we want to keep the money channels open a little longer.)
The amount of time I put into this event over the past several months was staggering but “all good,” as they say. I had intended this as a one-time event, but we received many requests during and after our trip to do it again next year, with some people expressing interest in joining us. A few days after the trip, I thought it wouldn’t be possible to commit that amount of time to this again. I’d be spared some groundwork, of course, but there is still so much to do. And just when I’d reached that somewhat soft conclusion, I received an email message from Landess Witmer, Publisher of the popular regional PetFolio Magazine. She heaped praise upon us for this event and told me an avid reader of the magazine pledged $1000 for Paddlin’ for Paws 2009. I told her we were still collecting money for this year’s event and wondered if the donor might provide the money now. But the money was specifically earmarked for next year.
So now I wonder, can I afford to not go after that sure thing as substantial seed money for next year’s pot and a promise to needy animals if I do my part? I will now give it serious consideration. If I do it again, I will probably organize a six-day, five-night event (one day less than this year), and I will invite anyone interested to join me as long as they raise money for the new animal organizations that I would designate. I’m not sure whether Mo would join me again, due to limited funds and vacation time, especially since she would have to again travel across the country for this. Although I would love for Mo and me to repeat this event together, I’m sure Mo would simply be thrilled to see our legacy continue with a flotilla of do-gooders enjoying nature and physical activity while they paddle to improve the life quality of our animal friends.