Farewell, Indian Summer

My intimate partner-in-crime, Indian Summer, sank at the relentless Cheung Tsui last Sunday.  Along with her, I nearly lost Dennis to hypothermia too.

Sometimes, something happens out of the blue and pushes you to go crazy against your own limits.  Increasingly I feel as though I need to do something rash, like a heroic solo around the world, just to atone for my errors.  I thought I was good at kayaking, and maybe I was good at propelling myself, but I knew nothing about trip planning and taking care of my friends.  My ignorance of my limitations turned me into a water-logged megalomaniac.

I want power, I want complete mastery of my kayak, I want her to obey me, to move the way I want her to move in the worst possible condition.  And I don't think I can put this snafu behind me until I managed that.  I mean to paddle very hard, everyday, even if it means paddling in the dark, even if it means paddling in T8.  I'm feeling restless, full of angst that I can't put my fingers on.