The Canoeing Kayak.

Exactly 40 17 26 years ago (I am not the best with time) Adam's Dad, Lauren MacKay made two, two-person Kayaks.
Made them. With his own hands.
They took their madden voyage, and then were left in a garage for 30ish years.

Last week the garage was cleaned and the kayaks were dusted off, and thrown on a trailer.
So today Adam and I loaded one of the heavy SOBs up, we put slices of coconut pie in a gladware container and set off to the beautifully stinky, Salt Lake.

We were thrilled that they floated, thrilled that the sun was cascading psychedelic lights on the lake, thrilled that we are young and wild and free.

But I have been having a moral debate on if I should sit Lauren down and tell him that the boats that he made are not kayaks, but rather Canoes with a wall in the middle.
I'm not saying they are not wonderful, because there was some great fun that was had in that yellow monster, but call it was it is. You can't fool me.

Adam brought his boating glasses, did 80% of the paddling, and I took pictures.

 We stayed out until the sun was gone and the crescent moon was burning bright in the sky, and in the lake's reflection.

When we hit the shore incests came in the thousands. Swarming all around us, as you would step they would fly to get out of your way and it looked like the ground was moving,  so many would move it sounded like a pop can being opened up and the carbonation being released.
We worked fast but didn't survive the attack, itching and salty the entire drive home as we listened to a little Creedence Clearwater.

It was a lovely night.