A Long Winter’s End
By 7:29pm, as I lifted my board from the silky black water, the newly-risen moon shone hazy against the dark eastern sky, low enough to the horizon that one could imagine drops of water still falling earthward after its emergence from the ocean.
The sun had set nearly a half hour before, but as I turned my gaze from the water, I saw that the western horizon still retained more than a hint of the brilliant streaks of orange and red the sun had splashed across the sky as it settled below the Danvers River for the night.
This later sunset time, occasioned by the earth’s progressive flight toward that part of the year where northern latitudes enjoy a larger share of the sun’s warming rays, and aided greatly by the anthropogenic pushing ahead of the clock by an hour, means that I can sneak increasingly long sessions on the water after our two little girls are in bed (and with thanks to Ashley, who graciously encourages me to head out even before they are fully asleep).
It also means that we are leaving behind what many have remarked has seemed like the longest winter ever. It has seemed universally tough, at least in part due to the dismal, gloomy weather. And it's not just subjectively dismal. This January saw the fourth wettest January in Boston, but with hardly a snowflake (love it or hate it) to break the monotonous grey, many of us seem to be a bit undone. As someone who typically loves winter, it is hard for me to admit that the unrelenting gray, cold, and wind have taken their toll on me as well.
This was a strange place to find myself. Drysuits make most weather inconsequential, and our goal through offering paddling year round is to foster the idea that, as long as conditions are safe, there's no bad time of year to paddle. I'd check the 10 day forecast looking for a break in the weather, but even when it showed a rare sunny day, it was usually accompanied by raging winds. The perpetual gloom has made it difficult to find time on the water, with every weekend hosting unsafe conditions that kept us land bound. Even plans for short solo paddles fell victim to a lack of motivation.
A text from a regular winter paddler confirmed that I wasn't the only one feeling this. She wrote, "I may need to start a support group for winter paddlers" followed by crying emojis and icons of wind, rain, and waves. We suspect, in conversations with others, that many others also feel the same, and have also suffered a lack of appropriate conditions and motivation for their winter activities, be they paddling, hiking, running, skiing, or any other pursuit that maintains movement during the cold winter months, and is crucial for both physical and mental health.
And yet last night's paddle, short as it was, offered some real hope. With each turn of the globe, sunset will get a minute or two later, and the days, on average, will get warmer. While last night’s biting cold still gnawed at my fingers, it will soon relent enough to shed our booties, and eventually our wetsuits and drysuits.
The lingering sunset was a reminder that trees will soon fill their branches with buds, followed soon after by blossoms. Tulips will emerge victorious from their winter barracks below ground, and form a trumpeting vanguard for the coming warmth. Winter jackets will be traded for rain coats and boots for kids who, after being hurried inside during months of cold wintry mixes, will now relish the warm spring rains and puddle splashing they bring.
And we will take to the water, and bask in the sun, and enjoy the freedom of paddling without the layers required for winter adventures on the water. A few of us, especially the more ardent winter paddlers, will wax nostalgic about the quietude of winter on the water, with its dearth of other boats and noise, but will secretly or not love the ease of summer paddling. And while I am reluctant to wish away a moment of life's fleeting time, let alone a whole season of it, I'm looking forward with much relief, optimism, and hope for the upcoming spring and summer paddle seasons, and hope that we will see you all, sooner or later, on the water.
