By: Tom Bamonte
My understanding is that the Chinese view the seasons through the lens of Yin-Yang theory. Summer, with its heat, light and excitement is high Yang. Winter with its chill and darkness is deep Yin. Spring is rising Yang. Autumn marks the transition from Yang to Yin. Each season contains the seed of the next.
My typical paddling season is very similar. I paddle with rising enthusiasm in the Spring. Summer comes with a couple symposia, lots of Lake Michigan paddling and the confidence that comes with warm water and (relatively) good paddling conditioning. Usually there is a significant trip or two at the end of summer. By October my paddling seems desultory, just as Yin has overtaken Yang and we are heading into the short, cold days of winter. From roughly mid-October to mid-December I'm usually uninterested in paddling, can hardly bear to read paddling blogs, and am about ready to hang up the boat for good in disgust at such a pointless pursuit.
Each year, however, there is a day when the cycle starts anew. Usually, it comes in late January or early February, when the Yin of winter still predominates. Something strikes a chord in me, however, likely a few extra minutes of sunlight, and I find myself eager to start the paddling once again. In many ways this first paddle of the year is the best one because it seems to contain all the good possibilities for the year ahead. It is the Yang foreshadowing on a winter day.
Monday, January 17, 2011, was that day. I put in at Clark Park near Addison Avenue on the North Branch of the Chicago River. It was about 30 degrees and sleet was predicted for later in the afternoon but there was still the hint of sunshine.
Clark Park Launch Site
As I paddled south into a brisk headwind my body complained a bit, especially the front of my shoulders (probably poor technique). By the time I got to Armitage Avenue, the northern limit of regular barge traffic, I had loosened up. Progress was faster than expected but, of course, slower than hoped for.
Working River Near Armitage Avenue
By the time I was paddling down the east channel around Goose Island I was in the proverbial groove. Paddling felt fresh and new. It was an incredibly good feeling to be outside again. The mental fatigue from a few months before had lifted.
My happy meditation was interrupted by the construction crew on the Halsted Avenue bridge, which is undergoing a lengthy reconstruction. The crew warned me off, which meant that I would have to retrace my route for over a half mile. Through polite gestures and pleading I finally managed to get their permission to scoot under the bridge, hugging the shore. From now through the rest of the year mariners are advised to take the west channel around Goose Island.
Halsted Avenue Bridge Under Reconstruction
There is a nice sense of drama as one approaches the downtown junction of the north and south branches of the Chicago River. The buildings get higher and the bridges more frequent. At the junction the water opens up and you have a great urban panorama.
The Junction
On this winter day the Loop was quiet. There were no tour boats plying the river. No crowds of tourists or office workers. It seemed if it was just me and the occasional train.
Metra Shoreline Route
On the way back I had the wind at my back and the shoreline passed at a nice clip. I didn't wear that much under my drysuit to avoid overheating, but the various ice sculptures and, eventually, the sleet pellets reminded me that it was winter and to be extra careful.
Ice Sculpture
On the way back I passed a salt mountain. At its base was a group of snowplows getting filled up, which I took as a sign to hurry back to Clark Park before I got hit by some serious precipitation.
Salt Mountain
I arrived back at the put-in warm, refreshed, happy and eager to kick-off another year of paddling. Even my ego got stroked when a couple walking their dog gaped in amazement as I emerged on the path up from the river with my boat on my shoulder. "You must be crazy," they exclaimed. I flashed them a big smile and replied "crazy happy" and trudged back to my car.
When I reflect on my typical paddling year it seems I am imprinted with this Yin-Yang theory. My mother, whose maiden surname was the Swiss-German "Leu," used to kid with gullible strangers that she was from an old Chinese "Lu" family. Maybe the joke was on me.
