At 66, I don’t feel old, but according to my grandsons, I’m ancient. While I’m reasonably active and walk most days, recent articles about ageing well hit home. Walking isn’t sufficient. I should be doing something about my strength, balance and core. Five-minutes-a-day routines may work for some, but I know that I’ll start with good intentions and soon give up. I’m not one for going to the gym and yoga has never been my thing.
The answer is in my boat shed. It’s a paddleboard I bought for fun a few years ago. I was a total beginner; a friend gave me a few lessons. Then several flooding events turned the Hawkesbury River, where I live, a foul brown and my board has been sitting in the boat shed, unused. Then winter got in the way.
Now the sun is shining and the early morning light glints across the calm waters of the Hawkesbury. It’s time to get my paddleboard out.
For the first time in years, I haul the long, unwieldy board into the shallow waters. Firmly grasping the sides, I carefully kneel on the board. It wobbles gently under my weight.
‘Several flooding events turned the Hawkesbury River, where I live, a foul brown, and my board has been sitting in the boat shed, unused.’ Photograph: Supplied
Now the difficult part. I clench my jaw and gingerly put first my left foot and then my right into position. As I pull myself upright, the board rocks perilously, then settles.
Muscles tensed, I tentatively dig the paddle into the water. The board glides forward, water gently lapping over the nose. I’m alert to the sound of approaching boats. Their wake could easily upset my precarious balance. Still tense, I dare to look around.
Ahead, a bloom of jelly blubber – a type of jellyfish – glide gracefully beneath the surface, their eight lacey arms trailing umbrella-shaped bells. They may be beautiful, but they sting. And still wobbly, I don’t want to fall in. I turn back.
Standing up is easier the next day. With no jelly blubber around, my aim is to paddle 3km around Dangar Island. I settle into a rhythm, gliding past watercraft moored in the western bay. I look around. Big mistake.
Joanne Karcz (right) paddleboarding with a friend Photograph: Supplied
I topple into the river with a splash. Spluttering, I grab hold of the board, take a moment to settle and wonder if I’ll have the strength to pull myself back on the paddleboard. I grab the central handhold and heave myself up and flop on to the board like a blubbery seal.
I’m dripping wet but am no longer scared of falling in, so I again settle into a rhythm. Then I spot the ferry chugging towards me. My muscles tense as the waves from the wake approach. I wobble, dig my paddle in for support and somehow stay upright.
More confident now, I tune in to my surroundings. The reflections of boats rippling in the water, yachts’ riggings tinkling in the gentle breeze and the early morning sunlight streaming across the water like a river of gold.
As I turn towards home, the tide is against me. I need to work harder. Perspiration drips down between my shoulder blades. Soon, the paddleboard crunches to a sudden halt on our rough, shelly beach. I’ve paddled around the island.
Each day my confidence and strength increases. One day, a large cruiser rumbles past. Instead of dropping to my knees, I weather the series of big waves rolling towards me and miraculously, I don’t fall in. My balance too is improving.
The weather isn’t always conducive to paddleboarding. When the water is rough or the wind is up, I walk instead. A recent deluge turned the river a soupy brown, prompting warnings of bull sharks. I miss being out on the water.
When the water clears, I drag the board out again. It’s only been a week or so and I feel confident. I stand up with ease and paddle round the island without a hitch. I’m pleased to have found an activity that works for me. It’s fun and helps me to do what I need to do as I age. I feel stronger, am walking taller and I find being out on the water calming now that I am more confident.
I definitely don’t feel old.
