Episode 6: Wilderness Storm Junkie

I'm a wilderness storm junkie. Evening storm brews on the north side of Jenny Lake. Unable to resist the challenge of a  solo kayak trip in the white capped tempest.  What makes a storm junkie, why fight the elements...why take the risks...working out freedom, order in chaos, the battle and the glory...or foolhardiness, risk and recklessness, will the plucky Yellow Ducky survive? Is there sushi in heaven?  Tune in to find out what storm furies drive this storm junkie...and who finally wins in the end....

A midlife crisis, an answer to prayer, inspired by two decades of solo night adventures in the Tetons of Wyoming.  These are the tales of this woman's journey, seeking hope in the darkness and finding a childlike heart renewed in the night...in my wilderness sojourns with God.
So listen, relax and perhaps...find a place of peace to dream.

Transcript

Cathy Schwartz: 0:59

Sunset. Late afternoon light slips between clouds on the western edge of the granite peaks 5pm. Just rolling out of bed yawn trundle down the few steps from the loft into the living room trying to shake out the cobwebs. Glance out the Treehouse windows and suddenly... feel revived. Giant thunderheads are billowing north of the Teton Range. A wilderness storm churning calling tempting, daring me to come play. My responsible self reminds me Sushi date, 8:30 tonight with your man of all seasons. But if you hurry, my Wilder self wheedles, you could race out for just a quick storm paddle and still be back in plenty of time for sushi. This is just too good to miss my storm junkie begs, which sets me scurrying for pack and rain gear. A squall out on Jenny lake in July after days of sweltering heat, pull water bottle out of the fridge. Miss this tempest I don't think so. My Workaholic self chimes in as I reach for the chocolate bars after last night's crusher ER admit graveyard shift. Gotta admit. You definitely need this. I scramble for car keys cell phone actually find them first try a final sign. I really need to catch this storm. I race down the stairs. It isn't cold but the wind is whipping down the valley floor ahead of the gathering clouds and blustering around the house. I tried to hoist the kayak up on the roof saddles it wobbles, rolls, slides back over my head wrestles me to the ground and I flop onto my back. The Yellow Ducky wins round one. I roll the bulky sunbeam of a boat off my back and promise myself again end of summer money in the bank and a sleek little blue touring kayak will be mine. Humming Sesame Street Yellow Ducky, you're my friend... Coax, squat push pull until my friend is cinched into the roof saddle. Racing the clock watching the brooding clouds. This wilderness storm junkie hits the road. I reach Moose Junction the tempest still hovers low over the northern peaks not sure if it will drift intoJenny lake or stall out where it sits. As I pull up to the kiosk a Ranger struggles against gusts of wind to open her window with one hand, while her other clamps the wide brimmed hat firmly on her head. Long black curls twist and tangle over her face. A quick glance at my parkpass, Ranger smile in place. One eyebrow raises at the Yellow Ducky rocking on the roof. A shake of her head. Have a nice time. She says as she tosses her hat back in the booth grabs the window with both hands. grunts polls, then finally slams it shut against the gale. I blaze up the road speed dial Tim at his woodshop before I lose cell service, and let him know that I'm almost to Jenny Lake for a quick kayak. But back in time for our dinner date. Brief silence as his thoughts form into words. Wind's pretty wild down here looks like...uhh rain up north. Heartbeat of a pause before he adds, Love you. Glad you're getting out for some soul food before sushi. Have fun. I sigh, that's my man, after 25 years together, he doesn't waste words on me like you really think this is a good idea. Or better be careful. Just offers encouragement and no chiding me for my folly. He knows if I get into trouble, I'll do all that chiding myself. Boat launch a tiny spit of sand and narrow rift between the pines. Yellow Ducky slips off the car easier than it went on. But it's a tug of war with the wind. I finally wrestle everything free of the strong gust tuck it in between boulders turn round and face the tempest. The backhand of the wind scoops water off the white cap and tosses the spray in my face Poor Loser, I taunt. Swipe my fist over my eyes and shake water back at the wind in triumph. Last ferry races for the big docks atJenny lake no other boats in sight. A perfect timing. I have the water to myself. Hiking Trail drops past the spot and a couple stop glance down at the Yellow Ducky, trees bending to and fro with the whistling wind. Purple storm clouds brooding over the peaks north of Jenny. They can't hear me approach behind them but when I head towards the kayak, they wave friendly greetings in foreign accents, point at the boat and ask YOU? pointing at the lake. They think I've just returned. Rough storm? Yeah? I nod a Yes. Then pull out my life vest and the wind whips it around and almost slaps it into the man's head. He jumps back. Oops, sorry. I give them a thumbs up. As I struggle my arms into the vest, then drag the ducky to the water's edge, maneuver it around wood debris that's rolling in.. one foot down in the kayak. Push start, slide into the seat, wave and smile at the couple... act like I've got this.. even though I'm fighting the breakers that keep trying to pound me back to the shore. Finally, twist push past the heaviest breakers move into the racing whitecaps I time it wrong, dig with my paddle into a trough between waves, spin around, now facing the shore again, glance up. The couple both have their phones whipped out and pointed in my direction. I'm hoping they're just videotaping and not on a call with 911 asking for help. Worst nightmare is to have search and rescue called out and ended up as a patient admitted to the ER by my own team. All because of my foolhardiness. Self delusion is another trait that kicks in with my storm junkie habits. This time I smoothly spin the boat back around in one fluid stroke. Take a deep breath, paddle upwind into the tempest and smile. Wind is topsy turvy pushing and pulling as I head towards the String Lake outlet waves in a commotion from all directions, prodding everywhere, going nowhere and no rain yet. Ducky is a wide bodied short bulky boat sits high and rides the waves easily, but difficult to keep it tracking in a straight line. Using a lot of muscle and finesse right now feel like I'm on one of those plastic, Bronco horses that sit on the springs. These boat rolls and bobs a little right then left front tip top then back up again. I tried to relax and roll with the boat not fight it. Aim my paddle high in the wave ,not the trough. This isn't a boat that would do a full roll and upright itself. And I want sushi tonight. I paddle hard then hit a few waves head on and the wash clears the boat opening the sloshes inside, since I don't own a boat skirt. Time to finesse the angles sooner I flip the the paddle here and there and suddenly I feel like I'm finally skimming the whitecaps. Twist hear dodge their waves rise up above me and I h over and through again and again. A new sense of power each time I overcome another contender. Now I'm writing a longer wave surfing to the next white cap. I glide into a bigger trough and giddy with the thrill of it all I shake my paddle over my head with the yell of conquests. I'm really doing it. Yeah, I am the Babe. What a head rush, twisting and dodging paddling and digging and conquering the squalls again and again. I'm breaking my boundaries stronger better with each stroke. This wilderness storm junkie self of me feels like it's a deeper better me I don't do extreme I do the edge of my comfort zone. Spin of chaos that wraps around me until I find myself in the eye of my soul hurricane or just as I drop into the next vortex I cast my cares onto the water that spins with wind and carries them up up up into the heavens. flotsam jetsam self imposed boundaries break apart my boxed in me images. My built up God idol images, my so so tightly held self control all shatter out in this stormy tempest. This is the best part of being a storm junkie. Oh, yeah. This is my time, my place. Where only a while God comes out to play too. I plunge the paddle back into the next white cap. In the storm, I know I am not the one in control. I glance over at the shore and realize now I'm not as close to it as I want to be. Then I feel a shift in the wind. white caps are all now rolling the same direction building higher with the solid force of the blustering Squall behind them. I glance North clouds are roiling, deep grays,deeper purples charcoal brooding. The peaks closer to the north end of the lake have vanished. It's slowly building made up its mind now. It's moving south and south means me. I love this tempest and The Tempest Maker. Water Walker, Wind Talker God, the name I cry out to with joy. The one always with me in the middle of the storm. I'm halfway across the 2.2 mile length of Jenny which is a very far but fighting the wind was like crossing this lake twice already. Now it's a new game. Time to race the storm back to the cove. I twist angle the boat closer to the West Bank, Mt St. John's and Teewinot, friendly giants in front of me. A veil of rain trails out behind the clouds, the chase is on. Windward. It feels like I'm going slower since the waves and the Yellow Ducky travel at same speed. Pulling back from any out croppings rocks on the banks. My muscles are a little tired. The foot braces on this kayak are broken backrest isn't solid. So it's all arms and weak abs, maneuvering the boat. Thank goodness the wind Squall is now working with me speeding me along, Sky darkens as clouds whisk away the sun. Then a strobe of light bounces between the granite slabs and thunder echoes in the canyon walls. Dig deeper, paddle harder. I'm motivated, no one else to worry about. living, breathing, struggling to push through water and wind. This is my storm junkie dream I may get wet, I may get injured, I may drown, but no time to worry about any of that. Just finding ways through the waves to reach the cove. It's such a focus of body as head bows down. Hands clasp to paddle. The baptism of water flows over me. Rise up breathe, prayer in motion, honor the strength of the storm, the one who made water and wind to begin with content that all is still well as I strive alongside the Creator paddle wielded like a sword against all else and worries thoughts anxiety vanquished. This is what it feels like to be free. I want to live but I'm not afraid to die. I know what I have to do right now. And I'm doing it feeling proud and strong of heart. I was made for this. I race with the waves toward the cove. Clouds suddenly pour over Teewinot from the east collide with thunderheads behind me. The impact seems to stall everything. The wind dies down briefly into a calm that seems more forbidding than the storm ever was. small ripples slap against the kayak Clap, clap, clap. A reprieve. exhausted I melt into the present. Take a rest look back at the churning sky. Deep breath smell of water pine mingle peaks reflect with metallic grays abstract art of liquid colors. ray of sunlight slips between the clouds. Amber gilds all for a moment, disappears wildness, these rumors of glory. The younger me revived again. I grab my paddle and glance up. And there above me is a bald eagle floating just below the waterfall of clouds pouring over the peaks. She's holding in one spot riding storm currents without flapping wing just in front of the brunt of both storms, angling wing and tail feathers playing enjoying the view .Then out of the grey and osprey glides beneath the eagle. Without a flap of wing maneuvering, slight twist and turn. They race in tandem. Never moving soaring free. If beaks could smile. Wilderness storm junkies like me. Soulmates. I blink and jump a blinding flash of light sizzles off the peaks thunder rolls through me way too close. Storm impass is broken wind gusts surge white caps swell my race with the storm is back on thrust the paddle into the waves clasp tight to the rubber grippers on the metal rod. It feels like me and this little ducky so appropriately named have just become sitting ducks. Familiar landmarks along the shores edge reveal my progress even while I was watching the Raptors play. The gusts push waves The Tempest closes in from behind but since waves and boat move in tandem, it creates an odd sensation as if we were just rocking back and forth in the same spot. Amazing it still isn't raining where I am. Storm clouds draw ever near curtain of rain dragging behind them as they drop closer to the lake surface. Brooding until the time is right to unleash the wildest deluge of this tempest. May be waiting to dump on me. I thrust my paddle in harder during the surge of each wave. gain momentum as it pushes me forward. Dig in again before it can pull me back into its trough. Swish of wind over water. White caps swell the ducky wants to weave and wobble whoosh of rain draws near behind me. Then sandy shore opens up behind a clog of driftwood debris. I take a deep breath, push against unyielding logs that clumps squeeze crowd me, I pry with my paddle again. Logs slips aside then moves round me and the wood rises up and I surge with it into the breakers. Another static crackle of light to my right than a sharp bolt of lightning strikes the lower peaks again, fingers down. Thunder splits the air rumbles through the boat rattles through my body as wind and water shove and slap us onto the shifting sand I breathe deeply with a sigh rollover half in half out clinging to my Yellow Ducky. Quickly toss the metal paddle away from the boat. laugh at myself. Crazy, crazy woman. Glad to be grounded on soft sand again, breathless satisfaction. Wriggle to get out of the kayak storm is ripping now. Wind is going in all directions pines around the cove are moaning and groaning. Another streak of lightning pops and a heavy wall of water blots out the mountains and churns towards the sand. I run to the car back it down to the Ducky ,wind buffets. But no problem as I lift load cinch down in record time. Throw gear in the back. rain hits water pelts my face. Oh yeah, I shout as I jump into the driver's seat and slam the door. Storm versus Ducky and me. Yellow Ducky and the Storm Junkie crush it. Then rain turns to hail as if in a tantrum. ice pelts the Silver Bullet and bounces off the tough old duck. Crank the heater on sigh with a big smile. Glad to be safe in the car thankful again. Amen, amen. In minutes, coating hail blocks everything from view. Back of the North Wind, swishes and sighs. Flip on the windshield wipers. Trail comes back into view as I pull out. A group is running and yelling down the trail when they come... and following them a burly man in tank top and shorts big smile on his face, calmly walking down the trail carrying a giant pink umbrella. Three little daughters dancing and singing beneath. Merrily merrily as they make their way home. I pull out for home too. Perfect timing Perfect Storm, thankful for the wild wonder of it all. Blahs gone tired satisfied heart joy and peace. The storm junkie satiated again and now I'm craving some sushi and that date with my Man.