AUTHOR’S NOTE: The intent of this column is entertainment, usually at the expense of truth and accuracy, but I sneak in some good information as well. It is up to the reader to distinguish between entertainment and reality amidst all the circumlocution and misdirection in these sketches.
Q: Why does a canoe tend to go the opposite direction of the side the paddler is paddling on?
A: Going back to first principles, it was Aristotle who declared that a rock falls to earth because it likes to be with the earth. Anticorrespondingly, a canoe does not like paddles, and is always trying to get away from them. As you can see in the photo, this paddler is demonstrating this principle by leaving her paddle in the water near the canoe for too long, and, as you can clearly see, the canoe is trying to get away from it. Many canoers have noticed the same thing happens when they accidentally drop their paddle in the water. It quickly accelerates away from the canoe, resulting in all kinds of innovative and poorly thought-out (comical) solutions in which someone invariably gets wet, or causes a “fake” emergency in which the entire group of paddlers deviate from their course to incarcerate the wayward paddle through the resistive force of all of their canoes encircling the hapless piece of wood.
Side note: Science was much easier to understand in Aristotle’s era before Sir Isaac Newton, Albert Einstein, Carl Sagan, Stephen Hawking, Brian Greene and Neil deGrasse Tyson (of the chicken empire) started corrupting and overcomplicating it. Even a Luddite of the day could grasp the most advanced concepts of science by just walking around the town square – no overwhelming student debt required. This may explain why Astrology, tarot reading, crystal healing, psychic magic (quantum spoonbending), hypochondria and kayaking are making such a strong comeback.
Q: When kayaking/canoeing, what is worse than loading and carrying chunks of driftwood for Amy?
A: Loading and carrying chunks of petrified driftwood for Amy is much worse.
Q: How does the null hypothesis relate to kayaking?
A: First, we have to get everyone on the same page about what the null hypothesis is. Briefly, and superficially, the null hypothesis states that if there is nothing (null), then there is nothing to talk about, and we can get on with life. In kayaking, there are times when we are sitting around, playing with the grab loop on the end of our spray skirt (which is the psychological equivalent of contemplating our navel), while one of our companions is droning on about something that didn’t happen, but could have happened (the functional equivalent of nothing). It is at this point that the null hypothesis kicks in, and someone says, “Let’s get back on the water”. So, in its simplest form, in kayaking, the null hypothesis determines when break time is over.
Q: What did Loren Corey Eiseley say that would be relevant to our humble paddling adventures?
BONUS:
Q: Are there any times when you just have to roll with it?
A: In kayak surfing, if you get sideways to the waves when you are too close to the beach, you don’t worry about a graceful recovery with your low brace. It’s best to focus on not breaking your neck.
Q: What is a “thalweg” (pronounced TAL-vig)?
A: This is a Norwegian word that literally means “the result of a coin toss”. It is used when there are several possible shallow water routes that may or may not be successful, and the leader has to flip a coin, committing to follow the thalweg.
WORD OF THE MONTH: Nimiety
More than is needed
Used in a sentence:
My wife believes I have a nimiety of kayaks.
The LOCH NESS BEAVER, ALICE, the DUCK, the Armadillo, the Water Moccasin and the Crazy Flower
We came back to Houston for a couple of weeks again in November for a reason that was never clear to me. Upon our return to Arkansas, we went to check out what was going on at the pond. Alice (no relation to our club recorder) was still there, waiting for us to feed her. She hissed at our cats again, which my astute readers will recall from last month is “Hey, great to see you, how are you doing?” in duck language. The beaver is still a null hypothesis, so our conclusion about Alice being a carnivore seems to be settling in. The little water moccasin is still dead, and the big water moccasin is still lurking somewhere in the area.
While walking through our back hayfield, my wife happened upon this crazy-looking flower growing in the middle of all of the non-descript grasses. My sister, a master gardener, identified it as a baja passion vine, Passiflora foetida longipedunculata. From my extensive research (30 seconds) on the internet, it looks like it is supposed to thrive in Baja California and Arizona. How the heck did it get here? Birds? Is it invasive here? Should I be worried? Maybe Alice would know.
GOOD ONE:
MUG O’ THE MONTH:
OVERHEARD . . .
PARTING THOUGHT:
