Voyage on the Connecticut (page 6)

 

On Comerford Lake the next day, I spotted two figures in a tandem kayak on the other side of the lake—the first kayakers I’d seen—and paddled over to greet them. They were an older couple in a red, plastic sit-upon kayak. The woman was paddling very lightly and inexpertly while the man was relaxing and taking in the sun. I asked about the portage around Comerford Dam, which they knew little about. When I asked them why they were out on the water, George said, “We want to do things we’ve never done before it’s too late.”

I jokingly said, “Cross it off your bucket list, is it?”

This wisecrack didn’t get the expected laugh, and I soon found out why. Nancy had a grave case of leukemia and was shaking off the effects of 21 days of chemotherapy. (That explained the pink hat she kept on at all times). Having just turned 70 myself, I could appreciate their choice of kayaking as an excellent way to spend the time we have left.

The conversation circled around to my trip, and I mentioned that I was running low on supplies and needed to get to a store and a cash machine. George offered to drive me to Littleton. Pretty soon I was being invited to spend the night in their ancient farmhouse high in the hills!

A visit with new friends was just what I needed to rebuild my depleted psychological reserves. For supper George cooked up a superb vegetarian stir-fry, and we passed the evening in animated exploration of our life histories. George, who grew up in Jamaica, showed me photos of his recent three-months’ stay in Australia, camping with the aborigines who knew his grandfather. Nancy showed me video clips of friends and family who visited her while she languished behind the plastic in the isolation ward. One friend gave her a cello recital; her talented daughter composed and performed a calypso song about how “Mr. Leukemia” made a big mistake picking on her mom, sung with a perfect West Indian accent.

The next morning, the three of us went in search of a put-in for me to continue my journey (we had said we would start at 8, but it was 10 before we put aside our chatting). We made a leisurely exploration down the river, until we found the perfect sandbar for my put-in. After a round of picture-taking, I gave George a hearty handshake and Nancy a hug, and a second one extra tight, and took to the water.

 

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