Feeling challenged

Lots of things, people, ideas challenge me.  When I'm not cowering in fear, I spend deliberate time trying to understand why I react the way I do.  Sometimes end up feeling grateful for the uncertainty.

After NaNoWriMo ended, one of the staff members wrote a blog about having not made the word count this year.  She described what she had managed to write, describing the difficulties that had come her way during November.

She also included this long quote from another NaNoWriMo writer whose screen name is Saker Pup:

Every time you try something new, you risk failure. That’s why most people who aren’t small children don’t try new things.  They spend their lives creating a routine that will insulate them from doing anything unfamiliar because most people can’t do unfamiliar things perfectly. And if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing all the time, you might accidentally screw something up and fail. I’ll tell you a secret: I fail at most things, at least at first, and it hasn’t killed me yet. Failure isn’t something to be afraid of. Failure means I tried. Failure is the process I must endure before I can achieve success. Failure is beautiful.

To be honest, I wouldn't go so far as to agree with that last line.  Way too challenging.  But, the rest of it?  Do I ever need to take it to heart. 

Messing up.  Looking foolish.  Not being right.  A small price to pay for learning something, for growing up, for becoming.

Headwinds

Yesterday afternoon was a terribly difficult time. I was in no way prepared for such a formidable start, five miles of paddling into a relentless, howling headwind. By the time we approached Scofield Point, despite several all-group rest stops, Tal and I were so tired that we didn't quite make it to the campsite. When we tried to round the point, our canoe was caught broadside by the wind and we simply couldn't keep paddling straight long enough to complete the turn.

Colin was in the single canoe in sweep position; he recommended that we paddle to the bank on the back side of the point, which we did. Exhausted, we carried our personal gear up the shore to the campsite. We weren't quite alone in our failure, but we didn't make it by a considerably larger margin than a few of the others. Colin assisted folks with gear while Alana and Eric ferried canoes. What a beginning.

But, Scofield Point was certainly worth the pain, I must say. As we set up our tent and camp life was established, the wind died down and we took a short walk along the bank soaking up the stillness and the quiet.


We arrived and ate late enough that we needed headlamps again before the cleanup was finished, but what a meal -- a delicious concoction of black beans and salsa, sauteed onion and ground meat for burritos and a dessert of ginger-brownie cake baked over the campfire. Divine! Have I mentioned that Alana is a personal chef?

It rained in the night, a nice sound on the tent fly. And, as Tal and I were waking in the pre-dawn, we heard very distinct footsteps outside and moving past our tent. Moments later came a terrible snap followed by a loud crash. A moose had come through the campsite, getting tangled in one of the lines securing the tarp over the table and fireplace. Very exciting! We should have seen moose eating in the marshy area at the back of the point after dawn, but with the unusual wind direction continuing overnight, they with their acute sense of smell stayed away.

With the overnight rain came a change in wind direction to what Alana and Colin had expected for yesterday. So, today we paddled back to Churchill Dam with -- a headwind. Somehow, we were more ready for it today than yesterday and, though hard, we kept up pretty well.