Kayaking in an Origami Bathtub

Cathy couldn’t wait for Dan, her husband, to open his birthday gift. For weeks, she’d been wondering what to get him. An idea came to her one evening when she observed him watching fishing videos on YouTube. After he went to bed, she searched the Internet and ordered two folding kayaks, one bright red and the other electric blue.

The two rectangular packages, each measuring about four feet long and two feet wide, lay side by side on the living room floor. They were wrapped in recycled brown parcel paper that Cathy had stamped with green leaves. Instead of ribbon, she had used hemp string to bind the packages and create bows. “Do you need scissors? I can get you some,” she said in an effort to get Dan to move more quickly.

His response was to walk toward the packages and lift one up. “It’s heavy enough.” He shook it and nodded his head. “No rattling. It seems solid enough. Are the two packages identical?”

“Pretty much.”

He surveyed the parcel nearest to him, moving his head from side to side as if to assess the contents. Slowly and methodically, he pulled on the bow and unlooped the string. He patiently unpeeled the brown paper and opened the long box. He turned toward his wife, a perplexed look on his face. “You know that our car is too small to hold two kayaks.”

Cathy smiled triumphantly. “These aren’t just any kayak. They are origami kayaks that cleverly fold into water-worthy vehicles. They say they are ideal for rivers and lakes. We’ll have enough room to transport them in the back seat. When we get to the river, we can unfold them and be paddling within minutes. Would you prefer the red or blue one?”

It took fifteen minutes to unfold the first kayak and five for the second. Dan turned to Cathy and gave her a big kiss. “This is a great idea!”

After dotting their faces and arms with sunscreen the next morning, they set out to the Tar River. Assembling the kayaks took even less time than in the livingroom.

Two weathered fishermen were sitting in lawn chairs, lazily casting for fish. A small cooler sat between them. Each wore a battered, broad-rimmed canvas hat and content smiles on their faces. “Hey, Ma’am, what you got there,” asked the older man.

Before Cathy could answer, the younger man had shifted in his seat so that he could get a better look. He addressed his question to Dan. “Sir, what is that?”

Since Cathy had researched the product, she was the first to offer a response. “These are folding kayaks.”

The fishermen eyed her pessimistically. “You sure that’s seaworthy?” asked one.

“It sure is. It’s designed to be stronger than an inflatable. The pieces are made from hard plastic. They can’t be pierced like an inflatable. In fact, there’s a video showing a guy striking a folding kayak with a hammer. His kayak doesn’t even get a single scratch! And the best part is, they can be folded into a package small enough so that two fit in the back seat of our car!”

The other fisherman was equally dubious. “Are you sure you want to take that thing out on the Tar today? There’s a little bit of a chop and it may be hard to steer them.”

“I’d worry more about them filling up with water,” his fishing partner said darkly.

“Not worried about either possibility,” said Cathy with the lofty voice of someone who believes what she reads on the Internet when she reads it from enough sources.

“Well, bless your heart,” said the older fisherman.

As Cathy eased off the loading ramp and into the water, she noticed that her kayak had less than six inches of clearance from the top of the water. Nonetheless, she continued to venture out, holding her posture erect because she felt the two fishermen were watching her. She turned her kayak to face Dan’s once they were both out on the water. She waved at the two men on the dock.

Their journey was uneventful for the first thirty minutes. Cathy watched her husband dip his paddle into the water. Soon their movements were synchronized, a rhythmic left paddle followed by a right paddle. They turned a bend in the river and marveled at the gigantic oak trees along one side of the bank. “Let’s head over there,” suggested Cathy.

When she was halfway towards the giant trees, she noticed that Dan was no longer at her side. “What’s wrong, Dan? Don’t you want to explore that bank? It looks like there may be eagle nests.”

Since she didn’t get a response, she reversed course. The ripples licked the sides of her kayak. She paddled carefully to prevent any water from splashing into the kayak.

She could see that Dan’s kayak was about two inches above the water. He had on his face a look of fierce determination, as if willing the kayak to obey him. As she neared his vessel, the ripples slide over the top of his kayak. She watched as it began to fill. Dan remained calm and paddled toward the shore as his kayak took on more water.

Cathy was glad the fisherman couldn’t see what was happening. She paddled near Dan and watched as he neared the shore. She scanned the rocks for snakes, relieved not to be able to see any.

Dan stepped out of his kayak, carefully placing his feet on two large rocks. He almost lost his balance when one tilted, but regained it by grabbing onto the edge of the kayak. Then he pulled the kayak part way out of the water, flipped it upside down to empty it, and reentered it.

They continued down the river, noticing how the tops of their kayaks were almost even with the water. “Let’s let the current take us. It’ll be slow, but we’ll get there in one piece,” suggested Dan. They coasted down the river, anxiety replacing their earlier joy at being on the water.

They drifted for half an hour, anxiously watching the sides of their kayaks as a passing motorboat left large waves that surged toward them. This time, Cathy’s kayak began to fill with water. She watched in dismay as her backpack, tethered to the top of the kayak, got soaked. She looked down to see water pooling around her feet. In their eagerness to get on the water, they hadn’t thought to bring a pail to bail out water. Cathy’s eyes began to panic.

Dan came to her rescue. “It’s going to be all right. Let’s go to shore. We’ll bail out your kayak.”

She anxiously paddled to shore in her kayak, which was now nearly fully submerged. Stories she’d been told about families of water moccasins filled her mind. She screamed when she heard a thump near her kayak.

“It’s okay, Cathy. There are no alligators in this river.”

Cathy was out of her kayak in a flash. Desperation gave her the strength and energy to empty the water from her kayak and re-enter the vessel in record time. She let the current take her out toward the middle of the channel, using her paddle only when necessary to prevent the kayak from crashing into the river bank.

Despite her best efforts, her kayak began to fill with water, similar to a bathtub being filled by water flowing from a narrow tap. As she and Dan rounded another bend, they could see a wharf in the distance.

“I’m going to swim for it!” Handing Dan her knapsack and water sandals, Cathy stepped out of her submerged kayak.

A small fishing boat pulled up alongside her. “Ma’am, do you need rescuing”

She lifted her head out of the water. “I do not, but if you could tow my kayak, that would be helpful.”

He saluted her and steered his boat toward her husband. “Sir, can I take the kayak?”

Cathie paused after fifteen minutes of vigorous freestyle swimming. She turned back to see her husband chatting with the young man who had tried to rescue her. Since her husband appeared at ease, she doubled her efforts and sprinted toward the wharf. She stumbled up the muddy ramp, exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.

A fisherman wearing a tattered canvas hat grinned broadly at her. “Glad you made it to shore.”