Oar in the Storm

Another clear and bright day in Trinidad awaited my best friend, Eric, and me as we set off in his car on our kayaking trip. I rolled the window down and let the sun warm my skin.

“Are you nervous?” Eric teased.

“No way!” We had gone kayaking together twice already. Maybe I was a little nervous the first time, but I quickly got the hang of it. The second time I was even better. I was really looking forward to my third adventure. Soon I’d be a pro like Eric.

We arrived at the Kayak Centre at Williams Bay in Chaguaramas. As we climbed lazily up the gravel drive, I closed my eyes and took a breath. I could almost taste the salty spray on my tongue.

There was no feeling like being out there on the water, stroking through it with the oar that determined speed and direction. The entire bay seemed to be in my control! We picked up our rented gear from the Kayak Centre: two red kayaks and two red paddles.

Walking toward the water Eric pointed upward. The sky had turned gray with only a few blue patches. “A little rain won’t hurt us,” I shouted. We got our kayaks out on the water and pushed off.

“Race you to the next pier!” Eric said. He was off like a shot.

“You’re on!” I shouted back, racing after him. My arms swung like a windmill, my crimson paddle slicing swiftly through the water. I was catching up! “Here I come!”

The pier was in sight. I had a real chance of beating Eric to it. My red oar’s outline blurred as I whipped it back and forth, side to side around the matching ruby kayak. Was that a raindrop I felt?

Sure enough, it started to drizzle. I can handle it, I thought, and stepped up my speed. The drizzle turned into a cold, heavy shower, lashing me with rain from all sides. I wiped my face and squinted to keep the rain from pelting my eyes. Now this was too much!

I paddled furiously toward the pier, but Eric was slipping out of sight.

A flash of lightning sizzled through the air right in front of me. An angry clap of thunder shook my nerves. I tried to locate Eric through the downpour, but he was gone. “Eric!” I called.

Waves rocked my kayak in all directions, overpowering my feeble strokes. I squeezed the oar tight, so tight my fingers went numb. The paddle slipped into the dark depths below.

I clung to my kayak, the hard rain and choppy water tossing me back and forth. I tried to paddle with the palms of my hands. Useless! I closed my eyes. Please, God, help me. I was afraid.

I opened my eyes. A stranger sat in a kayak in front of me. I could not imagine where he had come from, but it hardly mattered. “You seem to need one of these,” he said.