Yakkin'

For such a large group, we managed to get through the logistics fairly quickly, thanks in great part to the efficient staff at the rental place. Cars were parked, then moved and reparked. Forms were filled out and signed, PFDs were handed out (I always want to call them "PDFs" which wouldn't be terribly useful in a capsizing), and boat assignments were made. We'd already discussed the fact that (in our opinion) kitchen renovations and tandem kayaks present the greatest threats to any relationships. Thankfully, everyone heeded our advice and rented singles.

Milwaukee Kayak has a good selection of boats. Our party were all installed into multicolored vessels of decent length - not those tubby, coracle-like horrors. In twos and threes, our friends were assisted in launching by the staff and paddled out into the channel to wait for the rest. Paul and I usually launch at the public ramp a hundred or so yards further along the road, but the staff graciously allowed us to put in at their dock (not astonishing since we'd brought them 15 or so renters). After some brief, shouted instructions, we paddled across the channel and our prismatic flotilla began its progress upstream.

Few of our number had kayaked before and we were chuffed to see how quickly everyone took to it. Paul led the pack and I brought up the rear. Past MIAD and the posh condos, under the Broadway Bascule Bridge and into that stretch behind Water Street where the Menomonee branches off to the West. We followed our usual route and continued upstream into the Milwaukee River proper, going past the Market and under the freeway. There was a fair amount of traffic on the river - more than once, we had to make way for the big tour boats: the Edelweiss, Vista King. We congregated near the PAC and Usinger's - it was generally decided that we'd gone far enough upstream and that it was time to head back down and into the Menomonee. We mingled and chatted for a little while - water bottles were put to use - after a few minutes, we paddled across to the west side of the river and headed downstream back through the downtown.

Once again, I brought up the rear. Travis and Marie and I stayed together for a while. I paddled underneath the riverwalk overhang, as I am wont to do. Sienna nearly ran afoul of one of the tour boats. Under the freeway once more and under the railroad bridge at the mouth of the Menomonee. The timing was good - it seemed as though people were ready for a break (myself included). We paddled up the Menomonee - the Harley Museum to port and the monumentally ugly post office center to our right. In spite of having paddled beneath it a score of times, I never fail to be astonished by the height of the Marquette interchange. The sight of those sinuously curving roadways soaring above is awe-inspiring. Past the scary electrical equipment, past the Potawatomi hotel and casino to the Twisted Fisherman, where Paul and I got out of our boats and then helped our compatriots disembark.

The Twisted Fisherman is an ideal place to tie up for lunch. It's off the beaten path (or the paddled channel?) so there's usually a lot of free dock space and one doesn't have to cope with rough water and traffic while getting out of one's boat. We took over a couple of tables outside and ordered margaritas, cheese curds, and the like. I'm such a creature of context - it was strange to be among all the neighbors outside of our usual stomping ground (our driveways, the saloon, etc.). It was a fun gathering but already seems like a long time ago. Well, it was a while ago now - I'm typing this on Saturday, November 2nd. The snow that caused trick-or-treating to be postponed to today hasn't yet entirely melted. I look at the pictures of us all in shorts and t-shirts, raising our margaritas in our tanned and blistered hands and summer seems very far away.

I always feel a little sad getting back in the boat for the last leg of a paddle. One of those paddle pubs went past as we went through the complicated process of untying the boats (without allowing them to drift away) and getting into them. I think I could be talked into going on one of those. I wouldn't go on one of those pedal pubs to win a subtantial bet or to please an old school friend. The first to launch were already going under the Marquette as the last of us pushed off.

Back under the freeway, under the 6th Street Viaduct, past Harley and the post office. As we neared the railroad bridge, I was astonished to see it turning. I'd never seen that bridge being opened and wouldn't have thought its rusty bulk was still capable of budging. I found myself with Tish and Casey as we crossed the open water behind Water Street and approached the Broadway Bridge. One of the great pleasures of the day was to find myself chatting with random members of our party as the current, paddling rate, and chance brought us together.

A knot of tired paddlers bobbed in waiting as each of us approached the dock to be helped out of our boats. After a brief parking-lot convocation for photos and goodbyes, we went our several ways. Tired as we all were, it was difficult to gauge people's enjoyment - we were assured after the fact that the outing was a success. Perhaps we'll do it again next summer - maybe in a natural setting. Nemahbin? What a great neighborhood we live in.