Full disclosure: I’m a millennial. I’m of the demographic this magazine once characterized as “pathologically anxious and dependent young adults.” I’m trying my hardest in a world where the generational divide can seem downright cavernous. And over the past year or so, I’ve become a kayaker. Still reading? Good on you for your willingness to listen to a Millennial.
Some veterans of the sport have suggested that many kayakers, especially those new to the community, get bogged down by all the training and certification hoops they’re asked to jump through. The wall of intimidating acronyms is large and seems to stand prominently in the newcomer’s path down to the water.
These longtime paddlers, most of them greying Boomers, understand that there’s another route to becoming a kayaker: the caveman route. The figure-it-out-as-you-go route. The option to quietly side-step officiality and simply trot down to the surf. So why don’t we Millennials take this simpler, nobler path?
The thicket of certifications and acronyms is so unavoidable that newcomers might not even see that other route. Or maybe they do, maybe they know the caveman route exists. But here’s the thing: that path isn’t free of barriers, either. It comprises a slew of obstacles that exist in the lives of us youngsters. There are emotional barriers. There are social barriers. There are financial barriers. We didn’t choose to put those hurdles there, but there they are.
“Certifications give me something I value above thrill: peace of mind.”
Yes, I am one of the earlier products of helicopter parenting. My parents were concerned for my safety, and wanted me to know that they were proud of me. And yes, I’m now rather insecure. I’m anxious, I’m timid, I’m nervous. I don’t blame my parents; I had a great childhood and I love the person I’m growing to be. Being helicoptered made me sensitive, thoughtful and honest. It also made me too terrified to buy a boat, drag it down to Lake Erie and hop in. What may sound like an adventure to some sounds like a cold and simply trot down to the surf. So why don’t we Millennials take this simpler, nobler path?
The thicket of certifications and acronyms is so unavoidable that newcomers might not even see that other route. Or maybe they do, maybe they know the caveman route exists. But here’s the thing: that path isn’t free of barriers, either. It comprises a slew of obstacles that exist in the lives of us youngsters. There are emotional barriers. There are social barriers. There are financial barriers. We didn’t choose to put those hurdles there, but there they are.
Yes, I am one of the earlier products of helicopter parenting. My parents were concerned for my safety, and wanted me to know that they were proud of me. And yes, I’m now rather insecure. I’m anxious, I’m timid, I’m nervous. I don’t blame my parents; I had a great childhood and I love the person I’m growing to be. Being helicoptered made me sensitive, thoughtful and honest. It also made me too terrified to buy a boat, drag it down to Lake Erie and hop in. What may sound like an adventure to some sounds like a cold and watery grave to me. Blame my upbringing, blame my generation, blamewhateveryouwant—still, I could never do it.
Certifications give me some- thing I value above thrill: peace of mind. They foster confidence in my ability to be safe, to live to paddle another day. This confidence allows me to actually relax and have fun while paddling, rather than worry with each stroke. At the end of the class, the instructor gives me the pat on the back that I need to feel secure. If it weren’t for a class, an instructor, a credential, I’d never have the gumption to get out on the water. Credentials empower the meek of heart to conquer the intimidating emotional barrier to paddling.
Classes help with the social barrier, too. You may be thinking that I don’t need an instructor for that—I should just go out and find some kayaking buddies. Well, maybe that’s feasible in mystical places where there’s a kayak shop on every corner and paddlers on every pond. The West Coast, perhaps, or maybe Minnesota? I live in Toledo, Ohio. There’s a paddling shop an hour’s drive away. There’s one small livery just outside of town, but they offer no instruction.
There is a relatively new kayaking club, but I wouldn’t have found it if it weren’t for the ACA class I joined. The class was a gateway to meeting the very few fellow kayakers in my area. And given what I’ve already told you about being helicoptered, you can probably guess that we Millennials prefer not to paddle alone. For those of us who live in places like Toledo, the social barrier is a real obstacle to paddling. It’s instructors and fellow students who welcome us into the sport with open arms.
Even if I could find paddling buds on my own, I’d still be up a creek without…well, you know. Like many of my generation, I was ushered directly off the high school graduation stage and into an expensive four-year program at a big, impressive university.
I graduated with a little over $33,000 of debt. I make about $23,000 per year. Although I live in one of the most affordable cities in the nation, if I want to make meaningful progress toward getting out of debt, there’s not much left over for buying kayaks.
So I’m left looking for a boat to borrow. The most economical option is to rent from the livery, but that one stretch of river will get old pretty quickly. Once again, credentials are my answer. I can go out with a certified instructor for a fraction of the cost of buying my own gear. I can take an ACA class, which is a bit more expensive but still within my means, and ultimately empowers me to explore other options. Of course I want to buy my own gear someday. But for now, these options are the only ones that make financial sense to this debt- saddled Millennial.
Yes, there are two routes to the water: taking the path through the certification jungle, or hurdling the emotional, social and financial barriers that exist in the lives of people my age. Sure, the certification route is time-consuming and bureaucratic and not right for everyone. But the other obstacles can be bigger, scarier and even more insurmountable. Certification isn’t the only way, but for some, it might be the best way.
Should we be admonished by certain elders of the sport for choosing the route that makes the most sense for us? I think not. After all, no matter what route we take, we’re getting ourselves down to the water. Whether it’s the fast and furious dash of the Boomer generation, or the slow, methodical crawl of mine—new people are paddling. Isn’t that what we all want?
When she’s not paddling or developing outdoor programs for Toledo parks, Lauren McCafferty blogs at www.loveandbirding.com.
This article originally appeared in Adventure Kayak Early Summer 2016 issue.
Subscribe to Paddling Magazine and get 25 years of digital magazine archives including our legacy titles: Rapid, Adventure Kayak and Canoeroots.
