One Size Fits All

Apparently, kayaks made in Vietnam are also made for Vietnam sized passengers as well. It is not true that adage that says one size fits all. I have always hated it when I see that  label on clothing,  as I struggle into a too small Indian print dress, or swim in a tank top that is clearly intended for a person twice my size.

We decide after two full days of beach lounging that we should do something. David feels better finally. No cold, no stomach issues. He is ready for an adventure. 

We debate a moto versus a kayak, and decide that the kayak will give us more exercise. We pack up our bags yet again for the third move in three nights at the same set of 10 bungalows, one of the downsides to not making plans up front, and get downgraded from the ocean front bungalow deluxe to what David says looks like the storage quarters for the staff. It comes complete with a set of twin beds instead of the King we have had for the last few nights. There are only two pillows and one blanket in the room, and once again, we realize there is no electricity. 

We ask the manager for a kayak and spend the first ten minutes bailing out the water and sand that has accumulated in all of the seating areas and the storage for the dry bag. The manager insists on first helping me with my life vest and then buckling David’s, which is the same size with all the straps let out to accommodate the fact that we are no where near the same size. 

They tell me to get in the kayak and I figure they think I can’t help them drag it into the water, because I am a woman. I then realize they have told us both to get into child size boat, and are now attempting to drag the two of us over the sand into the small waves that lap the shore. 

We decide we want to head toward this island that we’ve been staring at for two days. It is situated west of us and thinking about it now, I realized it must have been at least 10 miles away. Though when we started and said, “Let’s go there!” neither David nor I thought, “well, maybe that’s just a tad far.” 

See the island in the distance?

We are quickly 40 feet out and paddling when David says that he’d like to stick to the shore rather than heading straight out to sea. It seems like that will be a longer trip, but I agree, knowing that David doesn’t feel that he is that strong of swimmer.

We both paddle on the left assuming that the boat will follow suit and head right toward shore, but much to our dismay, it turns the other way. David tells me to let him turn us around and mentions that his knees feel cramped in the seat compartment. I don’t think much about it and struggle out of my life vest as David backward paddles us until we are facing toward shore.

 We paddle together on both sides and find that before long, while we haven’t gotten very far, we are now once again facing the opposite direction of where we want to go. 

David mentions again that he feels cramped, and I tell him to take off his life vest, but he fears that he won’t be able to swim to shore if or some reason we are pitched into the clear waters below us. We spend the next five minutes struggling to turn the boat around again, first paddling both on the right (only to also head right which didn’t make sense) and then paddling both on the left (only to also head right) and then finally back paddling on the left and turning once again toward the island. David finally struggles out of the too small life vest and we sit floating for a moment, realizing that the current is taking us east along the shore past our hotel. 

“My legs are killing me. There is no circulation in them anymore.” I wiggle my own legs, and realize that if his compartment is the same size is mine, and my legs have to be bent to be in the seat, he must be super uncomfortable. One size does not fit all.  I feel the boat pitch left and glance over my shoulder to see David pulling first his left and then his right leg out of the compartment to rest on top of the boat. “Not stable,” he remarks laughing, “But at least now there is blood flow.” 

We paddle and paddle and finally manage to  turn the boat around one more time. We paddle as hard as we can to close the distance between us and the island. We slowly realize it is a losing battle, and finally succumb to the fact that the current is asking us to paddle down the coast and not out to sea. 

We’ve been “kayaking” almost an hour with no luck. The sunbathers on shore are surely shaking their heads wondering what kind of Laurel and Hardy comedy routine we’re trying to put on for them. 

 “Beer?” David’s voice makes a question out of the word as it comes out of his mouth and hangs there. 

“Absolutely!” I agree and we direct the boat toward shore, the first easy maneuver of the day.