Is it true that everyone in paddling but me used to ride with their parents in the back of an old, wood paneled, station wagon up to some Adirondack paradise and paddle past black bears while their fathers who always wore plaid, taught them to use a compass? Well, I missed that bit. So the first time I looked closely at a compass I didn’t realize I had to turn I had to turn the outer ring until the “N” was over the top of the arrow. I can’t start fires with two sticks and a bit of twine either.

My parents were not the type to take family vacations or talk to children over 5 for that matter. So when I found myself sitting on the couch last evening explaining to my sick 8 year old how my compass worked it suddenly struck me how weird that was. He would someday tell stories of how he got his first kayak at 6, went to the Apostle Islands each year with his family and how one day when he was sick his dad sat down by him and taught him how to read a compass. I realized he’ll be just like all those other paddlers I know who tell childhood stories I can’t possibly relate too. Weird.

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