Until the kayak incident. There is a strategy that when you are hiking, biking or kayaking to have a leader who knows the way and a cleanup person who makes sure everyone in front of him/her keeps up, or in the case of slow paddlers, yells for everyone else to slow down. This works fine unless it is the cleanup person who has a problem. I turned to check out my five followers and did not see the tail man. I asked the last visible kayaker where our tail was and got the reply, “Right behind me.” He wasn’t. I turned to paddle back around the turn in the bayou. There was a kayak. Upside down. No kayaker in sight. Eventually and thankfully his head bobbed up over the far side of the vessel. 

We all paddled quickly back to his position and together were able to get the kayak flipped and our waterlogged photographer back in the saddle. Now, kayaks don’t flip very easily, even on windy Watson Lake in my hometown. But it can happen, which is why we all wear or carry flotation vests. Fortunately, his camera gear was in a waterproof bag which had caught on a retaining strap when our now water rat gave it a yank, causing the a truly immersive photography experience. His only losses were his glasses, his headlamp and his pride. I will no longer advertise the trip as an immersive experience because this was unintended. Our volunteer driver paddled back to the nearby dock with him where the returned to our lodging, a hot shower and dry clothes. This is an adventure that one wishes would never happen, but an experience that prepares you to make sure nothing catastrophic happens in the future. Thank you Lord!

Despite the misadventures, the groups all termed the workshops resounding successes. Each photographer came away with multiple “keeper” images, a new appreciation for the south, a desire to eat healthier food, and memories that will last a lifetime. For me, I am already impeccably planning for even better workshop next year. I renewed my driver’s license this morning.