The Entry Point.

There was one summer in my past when I randomly searched for lakes within a one hour's drive from Wahpeton (ND), and after discovering that there were quite a few, I went on a quest that summer to kayak on as many of them as possible. I think I ended up floating on at least fifteen lakes that summer, and I might've been able to paddle on more if we hadn't had a sweet old Saint Bernard at home, missing her human companion...

Once Saint Sadie left us in the fall of 2018, I used the next summer to take myself somewhere on my own retreat, to get away from "it all" and to kayak on bodies of water beyond the hour zone. That meant, in 2019, I ended up outside of Duluth. The rental cabin was teeny tiny, and it had the ability to be a boat house - that's how much on the water it was. Well, I had brought my own "watercraft," and the entry point to the lake was the dock. There wasn't a shoreline, there wasn't sand, there weren't even slippery rocks to navigate.

I remember being disappointed in that experience simply because getting in and out wasn't easy. I also got sunburnt later on in that trip, dealt with a very small bathroom for my big butt, and had had to deal with weird communications with the owners. The owners obviously hadn't attempted to get in and out of the water like I had planned, yet they convinced me all would be alright.

Twenty-twenty hit and that summer was an anomaly filled with anxiety, a Chahinkapa Park pool pass, and reading Stamped. But there were two trips - one with my partner and one with my family - to places where the entry level to the water wasn't terrible. 

In the summer of 2021, based on the partner trip to a lake south of Wahpeton the summer before, I/we returned twice. It was as if once I found a spot that allowed ease of access, I wanted to reward it with my presence - with my paddling and money. In fact, I took my sister on a paddling outing because I knew she would find it easy, too.

During the summer of 2022, I began looking for places for my solo retreat based on the state trails of Minnesota; I started to view the kayaking thing as secondary... as a bonus. Well, I ended up near the Heartland trail and Dorset, MN this time, and while the cabin was right on the water and cozy and kept the perfect temperature, the shoreline was very rocky. I hadn't brought water shoes, and so I launched carefully from the dock, cruised around the lake filled with swimmer's itch, and then upon exit, I had to pull myself up onto the dock, which caused muscles in my body to strain. Not good.

This summer, 2023, I have found the perfect solo getaway: I'm near a touristy town (Nisswa, MN) that contains shops (including a bike rental), which is all near the Paul Bunyan trail. The bonus is the sandy shoreline feet from the cozy cabin I've rented for a few days, the solid wifi, and the oodles of lily pads and dragonflies. I have gladly taken the cabin's kayak out each evening, and it's been refreshing to talk to the water and destress while the sun sets. 

So, sure this is a record of my recent trips to water during summers "off," but there's also a lesson in all of this; bear with me.

When the entry point to anything - kayaking, learning, leadership, trust, compassion, rest - is accessible, it'll be appreciated and returned to again and again. How can this lesson be used by educators? 

Questions swimming in my head...

• What is the entry point for students learning in my course? And what does that entry point look like? Is it as accessible as it can be?
• In this metaphor, what is the rocky shore? What is the kayak? What is the water?
• What can we take from this observation: When we see that something is accessible, and we invite others to join us because of that ease?
• What entry points do I already utilize?
• What entry points in higher ed, in general, need tweaking?

My feet on the dock, overlooking rocks along Lake Traverse.