I didn’t see the ocean until I was in seventh grade, when my friend Sallie (future homecoming queen) invited me (congenital nerd) to Amelia Island with her family over spring break. It was freezing and windy, and I had no idea how to get in or out of the ocean, so I just tripped along behind Sallie, a jangle of goosebumps, bones, and frizzy hair. Suddenly I was scraping the ocean floor in a spluttering swirl of shells, sand, and bubbles. I came up, crashed down, and crawled back to shore, where I forced a shivering smile as I watched two-piece Sallie and her little sister frolic in the surf like mermaids.
So that was the ocean. No thanks!
Give me a calm body of water, and I’ll wade in (right up to my ankles, reluctantly). I love water. It’s just the staying alive part that gives me pause: “Oh, look at the Rivanna River, so pretty. (Still full of E. coli?) Oh, lovely Chris Greene Lake. (Has that blooming algae stuff gone away?)”
So when I saw the fliers for Elemental Experiences, offering excursions at Beaver Creek Reservoir that combined stand-up paddle boarding with mindfulness, I thought, “Hey, maybe this is my kind of water thing,” where I’m pretty sure I won’t die and maybe I’ll even learn to love it.
What
Finding balance and bliss on a paddle board in Beaver Creek Reservoir.
Why
Because I needed a gentle, guided, revenge-of-the-nerds water adventure.
How it went
We arrived just before 9am on an overcast Saturday and met Jessica Miles of Elemental Experiences.
A personal trainer and paddle board instructor with an easygoing, confident style, Jess had everything ready to go—boards, paddles, water, waivers, sunblock, and a choice between an overstuffed, old-school, zip-up life preserver or a barely-there buoyant belt. Guess which one I chose?
My fit husband and graceful friend, lithe in their life belts, popped right up into standing on the wide, sturdy boards, while I, looking like an orange Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, opted to sit. Aside from a couple of kayakers and a small group of paddlers, we were the only ones on the reservoir, gliding toward the mountains.
The breeze, the lapping water, the herons overhead—it was peaceful, yes, but actively fun. We chatted and joked, and when Jess showed me how to get standing, I wobbled my way up. It was easy! I was standing and paddling on a (pseudo) lake, on a summer Saturday, with my “trophy” husband and sporty friends. Take that, two-piece Sallie!
At a shady spot by the shore, we anchored the boards, and Jess led us through simple stretches and breathing exercises. Bobbing gently on our boards, we did a body scan, feeling the water tickle our fingers and feet (or was that a snake?), listening to the sun-warmed hush all around. By the time we lifted anchor I felt like a water baby, born to paddle (though I still looked like a Teletubby, born to terrorize toddlers).
As we explored the far end of the reservoir, I realized how restorative this experience had been for my inner seventh-grader, giving me the soothing beauty of nature, the company of friends, and the accomplishment of getting my feet under me on the water. More than two hours after we’d launched, we returned to shore feeling exhilarated, relaxed, and the best kind of tired.
What’s next for this newly brave nerd? Maybe Jess’ outdoor Bollywood dancing (but my bad hip…) or her yoga hike (but the ticks…). Or another Beaver Creek paddle, where I can “come into the peace of wild things,” as Wendell Berry says, and “rest in the grace of the world,” and be free.