For some time now, one of my backburner dreams has been to kayak on the Merced River in Yosemite, something we've seen other people do at the park with what seemed like genuine joy (as opposed to genuine horror, which would be a completely acceptable response to sitting on a piece of plastic drifting down a stretch of flowing water with strategically placed boulders, logs, and bridge columns, and nothing more than a paddle and one's wits).

This tiny dream is but one part of a larger dream, one in which somebody asks, "What do you like to do?" And I reply with enthusiasm and honesty, "Oh, I like to read, write, hike, play fake instruments, and kayak."

At the moment, I can't credibly say I like to kayak, since I've done it all of five times in my life. That works out to be once every seven years, which is hardly the frequency one would do something if one truly enjoyed it. By comparison, I prepare my income taxes once a year and dislike it passionately¹.

Anyway, over the Labor Day weekend, M and I took a major leap towards fulfilling both dreams when we visited our close friends (L & T) who live in the city where some of my precious tax money is spent: Sacramento (a.k.a. Arnoldzburg²). They had recently purchased a new kayak and had offered to sell us their old one.

While I was ready to buy the kayak before even seeing it, more level-headed individuals suggested we try it first. So, on Saturday morning, I helped T load a bright orange tandem kayak onto our Outback (an easier task to type than do).

After flipping it upside-down, we lifted it off the ground and carefully lowered it onto the car roof. We secured it with two (then three) bungee cords.

T, who has considerably more experience keeping kayaks attached to cars, double-checked (then tripled-checked) the cords before deciding we should add stabilizing lines to the front and rear of the vehicle, just to be safe.

We were soon on our way to Lake Natoma, some thirty miles away. The first five miles were the longest miles of my life. Every few seconds, I would peer up or back to see if the kayak had shifted or if the lines had slackened. They never did, but that didn't prevent me from worrying they would. Every few minutes, there was the disturbing sound of tapping on the roof, followed by the even more disturbing lack of tapping.

We made it to the lake without incident and unloaded a completely intact kayak. My nerves were a different story, but the kayak was fine.

Lake Natoma is a beautiful recreational lake off of Highway 50. Only non-powered vessels are allowed on it, which meant there were plenty of people rowing, kayaking, windsurfing, and stand up paddle surfing. Sacramento State also has a huge presence on the lake, which meant clean restrooms, easy access to the water, and a nice dock from which to launch.

L & T led us across the lake, through a corrugated metal pipe, and through maze of secluded waterways. We spotted a number of birds, fish, and turtles along the way. We also came across a number of kayakers. Most were responsible paddlers, but a few were rather reckless. A pair of teen girls kept running aground at alarming speeds and a teen boy nearly collided with L & T while he was blindly paddling backwards.

After a short lunch in our kayaks, we began the return trip. Before we even made it back to land and loaded the kayaks on the cars, I was absolutely certain I wanted the kayak.

To make it easier to take home, we stopped by REI. They were having a sale on Thule racks, which was fortuitous for us. T and I assembled the rack in the parking lot and slid our new-to-us kayak onto its new saddle. Of course, for posterity, we had to photograph it.

The drive home was uneventful, which gave me plenty of time to feel relief and excitement -- relief knowing the kayak was properly secured to the top of the car (and wouldn't wipe out the car behind us) and excitement knowing a whole new world of outdoor possibilities (admittedly wet ones) had opened to us.

In fact, M and I were so excited, we left the kayak on the car and took it out the next day to nearby Coyote Lake. (Another story for another day.)

With any luck, it won't be long before we're kayaking on the Merced River in Yosemite, and not too long after that when I can honestly say, "I like to kayak."

¹ Dear IRS: Please note I only dislike preparing my taxes. You can be assured I love paying them, at least the amount I rightfully owe. I just wanted to make sure everyone was clear on that point. Thank you. Happy Collecting, David

² Other aliases include I'llbebackersfield and Mount Shastalavista (Baby).