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Memoirs of a Novice

By Ed Pankow

Growing up as a street kid in San Francisco is light years from the Little Spokane River, though I firmly believe it was in my destiny that we would eventually meet. Living on a hill so steep you almost need stairs to get to the top I had little access to the wilderness, beyond Golden Gate Park. There was a vacant lot nearby, and I can recall poking in the weeds looking for small bugs . . . even making a modest insect collection.

Though my mother was hell bent that I was to become an accountant I entered a university and took up biology. I also took up backpacking in the Sierras. I had never experienced anything like those 12 thousand-foot granite peaks and ice blue lakes. In those days you could hike for days and never see a soul.

As I grew older and got a little busier, I began to do a lot of weekend camping. The Sierras were about a four-hour drive so I would pack up a lot of wood and food on Thursday night and head out right after work on Friday. I quickly learned to stay away from campgrounds in the summer (September through March was great) and stay away from three day weekends. I also discovered there is a different mentality between people who camp by a lake and those who camp by a river. People who stay by a lake want to speedboat across the lake (though I could never figure why they were in such a hurry) then make a lot of noise and get drunk by the campfire at night. River people usually fish and get up early in the morning. They seem to do their drinking during the day.

Two years ago my partner and I visited Spokane for a week and fell in love with it right away. There seemed to be endless lakes and rivers every where. And we did not have to load a car the night before and drive for hours! Right away I knew I had to find a way to get out on the water. Walking around was not good enough any more.

The first thing I did was hit the Internet. It quickly became clear that a kayak was the answer. The adventure of sitting with my elbows practically in the water really tickled my spine. It also helped that many of my friends thought I was completely out of my mind. That's the street kid still in me.

Behold! Costco has kayaks! Now two kayaks are in the garage and the journey begins. I learn that a life jacket is a PFD. OK, we need some. We end up at a local outdoor store. Though the young lady is very sweet and polite it is soon apparent she knows absolutely nothing about PFDs. Soon we part with about a hundred and fifty dollars with our PFDs and other devices necessary for our survival.

So, let's hit the water! Newman Lake is chosen for my debut. The water is shallow quite far out from the shoreline. First of all, I have never felt so awkward in my entire life as I attempt to climb in. I am sure my feet are going to end up in the air. Amazing, but I am out afloat in the water . . .except I have the endless feeling I am going to tip over any moment. Not to fear, I tell myself it's only three feet of water. I also have my PFD, whistle and a dozen other devices to rely on. Not bad, and soon my confidence is building - until it is time to get out! Now I know what a turtle on its back feels like. All in all I feel great, like I have just walked on the moon. And I didn't drown!

Now comes my next adventure, Boulder Beach on THE RIVER! The water is deep, cold and moving. There is a friend there to give me a little instruction. First, the right way to get in. Oh yes, push the paddle, don't pull. This helps and soon my confidence is soaring. Then, in a split second, I am in the river up to my chin and looking at the bottom of my kayak. Coughing and spitting I grab for the kayak. The inevitable has happened. All my fears have been realized. You can tip over!

With some verbal support from my friend I'm instructed on how to roll the kayak over and crawl back in. With my confidence still a little shaken we paddle back to shore. I am freezing. But most of all I did it! And, I'm still alive to talk about it. Well, soon back to Newman Lake to fall in a hundred times and practice the new paddle maneuvers.

Look out, Little Spokane, here comes a street kid from San Francisco!