Ah, summer vacation.  It’s supposed to be a happy time of year; a time where you break out of your routine and into something new.  No more bills, no more cooking, no more cleaning.  And, maybe most important of all, no more work!  You have just got to love summer vacation.  Unless of course you are me and vacation involves kayaking on the Pacific Ocean. 

Now, let me set the record straight; I love California.  I love everything about California.  In fact, in one of my many fantasies I live in California and not in your usual tract house on a typical suburban street.  No, when I dream I dream big.  My dream house is large and elegant, with marble and stone throughout.  There’s a long winding drive leading up to it (did I mention that I’m driving a black on black convertible Mercedes? I told you I dream big!), and as you pull into my driveway all you see is this beautiful house surrounded by grass, trees and flowers; a whole profusion of flowers.  You open the large stained glass front door and step inside.  There before you is the dazzling blue ocean viewed through the bank of windows that line the house.  The ocean from wall to wall.  Cool!  Oh, to have such a dream.  It’s almost better than going on vacation.  At least it’s free.

So you see I love California.  I love the ocean.  I love sitting by the ocean and watching the waves roll in.  I love to watch the surfers as they paddle out trying their best to catch the next, great wave.  I love sitting on the rocks with the salty air blowing against my face.  I love to see the people walking up and down the beach, their shoes off and the water splashing against their feet.  I love the casual vibe of the beach and the lazy days.  When I move to California I intend to soak up all of that.

I just wish I had remembered that I don’t actually like being on the ocean.  I wish I remembered that I get motion sick fairly easy.  I wish I remembered the last time I was on the ocean, the Atlantic Ocean.  But I didn’t remember any of that when I booked and scheduled our kayaking trip.  No, none of that came to mind at all.  But it sure did when I was in the middle of kayaking.

I suppose that’s my blondeness coming out.

I should have known something bad was going to happen when I stepped out of the hotel room and saw the grey overcast sky.  Of course it was only five in the morning, and you can’t really expect a sunny day at that time.  Still, it was cool and overcast.  A premonition, I wonder?  At first Ron and I were disappointed.  We wanted it to be hot and sunny.  Later I was glad that it was cool.  Especially the first time I threw up.  I absolutely loved it the second time when I threw up and fell into the water.  Wow, was that refreshing!

But there wasn’t a lot we could do about it, the weather, that is.  Cool and overcast, no matter.  We’d scheduled kayaking, and kayaking we were doing.  We drove down from Carlsbad to La Jolla with great excitement.  We found the kayaking place right off but because we were early we walked down to the beach.  When you’re vacation in California, you can never get enough of the ocean.  At least I can’t.  We walked around the beach, checked out the beautiful houses that edged it then headed up towards the town and around some of the residential area of La Jolla.    

Talk about nice houses.  Close to my dream house, but  . . .does anything really come close to your dreams?  Anyway, we walked around and talked about the houses and dreamed about living there and then made our way back to the kayak shop.

Our guide was a young college student.  He was really nice and informative about the trip.  He offered us what they call summer suits, which is really just a wet suit with short sleeves and legs.  You know, in hindsight I don’t think I’d take it.  But like I said, it was fairly over cast and I didn’t want to get cold so I took the proffered suit.  That the first mistake I made.

As we walked down to the beach, I felt a little overexposed, if you know what I mean.  Let me tell you what, spandex has nothing on them.  These suits are uber tight and reveal more about you than you’d care for most people, including your husband, to know about.  Typical guy, Ron didn’t mind exposing himself.  Me, well let’s just say, that I might as well have walked the half mile to the beach naked for as much as that suit concealed. 

Once there, we get our kayak and a quick lesson.  Simple, row this way to go forward.  This way to go backward.  To turn your kayak this way, do this.  To turn your kayak that way, do that.  Simple.  Even I, the blondest of blondes can figure this out, right.  Right!  Well, okay, I held my own and didn’t get lost at sea, but I did imagine myself floating away, uncontrollably with the waves.  Cast Away II in the making?

Waves!  God, I hate waves.   I had forgotten how much I hate waves.  Did I mention there were waves?  At first they started out small, just enough of a challenge to make kayaking interesting.  No problem, I thought.  I can handle this.  What I couldn’t handle was that blasted suit.  Oh, it did its job well.  I certainly wasn’t cold.  Not one bit.  In fact, I was sweating inside of it.  I mean, kayaking is a workout!

The instructed pointed out our destination; the La Jolla Sea Caves.  I could just make them out against the rolling ocean.  Lord that was forever away!  Nearly a half mile.  And I was kayaking on my own in rolling water that was fighting me as much as I was fighting it.  Curse those blasted waves! 

Bless our guide, though.  He did his best to mention all sorts of things about the area.  He explained about the research, and the sea life, and all sorts of things.  I just wish I had paid more attention to him.  I was too busy though, to listen.  Not only did I have to deal with the waves, but now my stomach was making its opinion known. 

Let’s just say that by the time we were half way out, things were going a little south for me.  The thrill of kayaking was fast losing its appeal.   You’d think I remember this little issue that I have with motion sickness by then, but of course I didn’t.  Maybe that was because I was too busy keeping my breakfast down to remember. 

That realization came more forcefully later. 

So there was I was in my kayak, rolling up and down with each wave.  I did my best to keep my focus on the caves, Ron’s, and our guide’s back.  Whatever it took.  I tried, really tried, to enjoy the sea lions resting upon the rock, but what I think I really felt was envy for them.  At least they were on terra-firma and not floating around in a plastic boat with their stomach practically in their mouth.    

The waves began to kick up harder and harder.  No longer were they those cute waves that you see when you are on the shoreline, rolling so gently.  Now, they were larger and stronger, and pushing us closer and closer to the caves.  Which our guide decided was too strong for us to go through. Now is when I remember that I get sea sick!  I suppose the beads of sweat upon my brow and the nauseous stomach was my first clue. 

I used all the powers that I possessed, which let me tell you is not as much as I would have liked to have, at that point.  But I said my prayers – Please dear Lord, don’t make the caves happen! I said that prayer as solemnly as I could.   I called upon The Secret, willing it to happen.  I don’t know which one answered.  I didn’t even care at that point.  All I know is that our instructor decided that the waves were just too much for us to go into the caves. 

It was as we were heading back that things went horribly awry.  Okay, by now I knew that I was sick.  Totally and completely sea sick.  I told the instructor that too.  He just told me to relax and if I needed to throw up, to go ahead, that it happens a lot.  Oh, that makes it sooo much better!    

Now, I don’t know about you, but when someone tells you that they are going to be sick, you’d think that you’d get them to shore a.s.a.p., right?  Not our instructor.  He kept giving us information about the area.  By now, I hated him.  All I wanted to do was get to shore.  I really didn’t give a fig about the sea, sea life, research, birds, fish, Dr. Seuss’ house or anything else he wanted to tell me.  I just wanted to be on land.  Dry, unmoving, non-rolling land.    I tried to get back, but I couldn’t.  I was sick, tired, and exhausted and my stomach was in full revolt.  There goes breakfast . . .right into the ocean. 

And still our guide kept talking, right through my puking.  It was only as the second round was coming up that he stopped what he was saying.  At least I think he did.  I’m not certain.  By this time I was in the ocean.  Oh, the cool, wet ocean.  No more complaining about the cool, overcast day.   I never knew that I would be thrilled to land in sixty degree water, but let me tell you, it was the most refreshing, invigorating thing I have ever done.  It was great and I felt better immediately.  At least I thought I did. 

It was also at this point that I remembered the last time I was on the ocean.

That was about twenty-five years earlier, and it was the Atlantic Ocean not the pacific.  But the results were the same, only that time I wasn’t in a kayak, Ron wasn’t with me, and I didn’t fall into the ocean.  Then, I was a young college student visiting a friend on Cape Cod.  She took me, her dog Daisy and her dad’s tri-hauler out into the ocean.  The only thing I clearly remember was Daisy the dog looking at me hanging over the side of the boat.  Daisy wasn’t sick; she was giving me moral doggy support. 

Today, however, I was on my own.   I was told to look at the shoreline.  Lots of help that did.  I immediately threw up again.  At this point I decided that whatever my guide had to tell us, he could tell me on the beach.  I wasn’t waiting any more.  Nothing was stopping me from reaching land.  I remember hearing him say something.  I don’t know what it was.  I think it might have been something about how to get to there.  I wasn’t paying attention.  I was too busy trying to reach land to listen.  I blew past him as quick as I could.

I threw up two more times on my way back.  I think I would have rather drowned in the ocean that to kayak any more.  It was only when I finally reached land, with my husband laughing behind me, that I realized that I might very well be the only person in the world that has puked in both the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean!  What kudos!

Boy, I cannot wait for vacation next year.  I think we’re going to do something equally exciting next year.  Maybe DisneyWorld.  Nothing to worry about there.  Just keep me off the teacups!