The Fashion Police Didn’t Get Us

Uh-huh. It’s this time of year again. If you want to go paddling, you better layer up onion-style, keep your digits and limbs warm, and try to stay dry. Last Sunday was bright and sunny, but also windy and chilly. The CNY Kayakers started to show less flesh and more closet content. Out came paddle jackets and pants, dry suits á la Santa Clause, skull caps á la Amelia Earhart, long boots á la Hugh, and gloves and mittens á la Central New Yorker. Still, the turnout was great: 16 paddlers. Hardy bunch of enthusiasts we are.

Cindy and Rick, Christine and Phil, Tish and Gene, Anne and Roger, Lynn and Greg, Aneta and Robert, and two Davids (L. and F.) launched off together with the goal of conquering the village of Skaneateles and raiding their ice-cream and pizza shops. The water was glimmering turquoise, wrinkled, and wavy, but not all that cold judging by occasional

sprays. We took a break at the village boat launch looking more like aliens than regular visitors of this hip town. It wasn’t so bad to be standing looking funny in the context of our kayaks. Visiting shops, however, while leaving a wet trail behind from the neoprene booties and swinging our sprayskirts side to side was a different story. It was best to pretend not to see the looks we were given. Still, contrary to some predictions, we were not arrested for our appearance. As we basked in the sun, we were joined by Chuck and Robin. The two arrived late but were able to figure out just where to find us. It was Robin’s first outing with the club.
The trip back was uneventful. We loaded up and went to Johnny Angel’s for dinner and drinks.