I take back all the bad things I said about kayaks.

The last time I paddled a kayak, I was wedged tightly into the rear seat of a tandem where I spent several excruciatingly painful hours before unwedging myself and swearing I’d never get into a kayak ever again. The cockpit was narrow, the stirrups were nearly as close as my knees, and the seat was a short, hard crescent of foam rubber so subtly painful that the Inquisition could have used it to extract confessions out of pretty much anybody. Before that ride, I was really very enthusiastic about buying a kayak, but after that I my enthusiasm was transmogrified into its diametrical opposite, whatever that is. Bleeding sores, I think.

Before that, I’d gone to a sporting goods store where they let me take one of their solo kayaks out for a demonstration ride, a slightly better experience, or at least good enough that it didn’t leave me wanting to swear off kayaks forever. The kayak I test-drove was such a short, stubby model, though, that I had a lot of trouble getting it to track in a straight line. With each stroke of the paddle it would swing back and forth like a needle in a cheap compass, frustrating me so much that I went back to the dock to ask one of the guys in the shop if he had any tips for driving it. He didn’t, falling back on the “it just takes some practice” argument. He was apparently a much better kayaker than he was a salesman.

With just that little background, you can understand how yesterday I settled into a kayak with some reservations, but it was one of the perks that came with the cabin we’re renting on the Chain O’ Lakes this week and the lake was calm, the skies were clear blue and everything else was just perfect for a paddle. My aching back, however, wasn’t ready to wrestle with a full-size aluminium canoe into the water. It was the kayak, or nothing. I chose the kayak.

And, first pleasant surprise, I didn’t have to drag it into the water. It was light enough for me to pick up by myself and carry to the shore. Other kayaks were too heavy for me to carry by myself, even the solo I tried. I could have carried this one all the way across Portage county. *nyuk!*

Second pleasant surprise: Sitting in it felt comfortable. The seat did not become a long, slow experience in pain, and the adjustable stirrups were on a track long enough that I could stretch out my giraffe-long legs. The cockpit was so wide and open it gave me plenty of room to swing the paddle without constantly bumping the shaft against the gunwales. I could move around and enjoy the experience.

How come it took so long to find a kayak like this? Wouldn’t you think a shop that sells kayaks would have plenty of these on hand so that when an absolute beginner like me showed up at their door they’d be able to plunk him in a boat that would feel like a dream instead of a nightmare? I’m not saying this was the perfect kayak. I know next to nothing about kayaks and what makes them perfect. All I’m saying is, a kayak like this is a kayak a beginner could could climb into and enjoy from the first minute he settled into it.

Too bad they don’t make them any more. It was a Perception Patriot twelve-footer and I couldn’t find it on the company’s web site, so I’m guessing it’s out of production. This looks like a job for Craigslist!