PADDLER 26
PADDLER 26
Of course , the cave paintings were unremarkable . Any human creation would pale before the nature of Karelia , the cliffs of granite and gneiss , the forests of pine and birch , the water that is clean enough to drink . Were the cave paintings perhaps proof that the people of 3,000 years ago were every bit as desperate to make their presence known as modern man ? Perhaps their juvenile delinquents tagged quartz mines , while ours tag concrete bridges . The insatiable human desire to say I was here .
Perhaps we , as humans , had not really evolved . Here we were , paddlers , the most evolved of all 21stcentury humankind , dividing ourselves into nationstates when we are all , in fact , members of an elite tribe . ( Kayakers a lesser tribe , of course .)
KALEVI THE SUP RIDER
If canoeists are the highest form of paddler and kayakers the next , then SUP riders occupy a position that is even beneath the inflatable pool raft . Kalevi was a SUP rider , and he arrived in Lapinniemi with his gear in black garbage bags lashed fore and aft . He ’ d strapped three long sticks on his gunwales if SUPs can have them .
Having such a low opinion of SUP riders – a hipster hobby if there ever was one – he caught me off guard . Anyone willing to paddle ten kilometres in ( or rather on ) one of the slowest watercraft ever invented could not , at heart , be a bad person . Tina and I had passed him earlier in the day near Kirkkoranta , where he was chugging along like the Little Engine That Could , heading toward some unknown destination . Which turned out to be our camp .
I knew his name not because it was painted in large print on his board for all to see but because it was written discreetly on his paddle , which I noticed when he asked my assistance in lifting his laden board from the water . He thanked me for my help and then went about unpacking the 50-gallon bags strapped to his board . He pitched his tent and looked for the firepit without inquiring about our sleeping habits . It was nowhere to be found .
“ I think they removed it from this campsite ,” I offered . “ There ’ s a sign on the woodshed about a lack of resources .” I offered him the use of my camping stove and gas , explaining that any man who ’ ll paddle a fully loaded SUP ten kilometres to this campsite is a friend of mine .
Kalevi scratched his beard . “ For me , the wood fire was the most important part of the experience . I may have to go elsewhere .” The three wood sticks lashed to his board formed a tripod for cooking .
“ Where elsewhere ?” I asked . He named a campsite at least eight kilometres away .
Kalevi pondered his situation only a few minutes before he struck his tent . It took him a good half hour to refill his garbage bags and lash them to his board . It was already eight in the evening . The sun would set long before he arrived at camp .
UNCOMPROMISING INDIVIDUALS
But in that half hour , my faith in humanity was restored . While my opinion of SUP riders did not change , I was pleased to know that some , like Kalevi , are out there , uncompromising individuals who will go to any lengths for the experience they seek . I knew that Kalevi would never make a cave painting . He was far too self-assured to require it .
Tina and I brought our chairs to the water ’ s edge as Kalevi shoved off , wishing him luck . As he exited the bay with the sun behind him , he raised his paddle in salute . We raised our arms in reply . A breeze rustled the pines in camp , and I took note that , fittingly , the wind would be at Kalevi ’ s back .