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Cutting the umbilical. PHOTO: VIRGINIA MARSHALL


EDITORIAL Born Again


I was conceived in a tarpaper shack. It had a door handle of silver-polished driftwood scavenged from the neighboring beach, and a chicken wire window through which carried the sound of waves gently lapping or violent- ly thrashing three-billion-year-old volcanic greenstone. My parents never set foot in this rustic hut.


I’m not referring to the conception of the large- lunged, platinum-haired infant they named Virginia and raised in a semi-rural colonial. Rather, it is my adult identity—a sea kayaker by passion and trade—that was born here. Few people can pinpoint the protozoan mo-


ment they became the essence of who they re- ally are. Identify the choices that defined the course the rest of their lives would take. I can. For me, it was during one of those golden, bewitchingly long summer days just after sol-


10 ADVENTURE KAYAK | SPRING 2011


stice on Lake Superior, when shadows seem to stretch to the horizon and the lumpy hills turn softly purple. I arrived on the lake eager and impression-


able, a week out of college and sopping-wet- behind-the-ears—even more so after a first day initiation in the surf. I had an extra large mesh duffle containing


my worldly possessions, a Rubbermaid full of books and an invitation to work as an assistant kayak guide. For the next four months, I divided my time


between the shack known to my co-workers as theTaudis des Souris (not without good reason, I soon discovered), my no-longer-new-smell- ing tent and the cockpit of a kayak. At season’s end, I was a sea kayaker. Even more than the incredible tripping and surfing or adjective defying landscape, the oth-


er kayakers with whom I shared those blissful- ly isolated, uncomplicated months defined me. From them, I learned to be master of my


craft, confident on open water and in avalanch- ing waves. I discovered how to live simply and comfortably out of 130 liters of plastic for weeks at a stretch. I listened to remarkable sto- ries that would eventually lead me to my own thrilling adventures. I fell in love and shared the shack with more than just mice. Every raw experience further glazed the pa-


tina of my evolving identity. I couldn’t know the places kayaking would take me, but I was eager to discover. I’m still discovering. Settling in to helm this issue of Adventure Kayak, I’ve added another layer of identity: Sea kayak magazine editor. Driftwood and paddles still decorate my


home, but I’ve traded chicken wire acoustics and isolation for high-speed and a broad- reaching industry and community network. I look forward to the inspiring stories and peo- ple to which this job is an unrivalled portal. I’ve no doubt your tales will lead some fascinating places.—Virginia Marshall


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