Misadventures of Tandem Kayaking

Do you ever see those photos of two people in a kayak or canoe, smiling and enjoying what looks like a perfect day on the water? Maybe you've even imagined yourself having that same experience, or perhaps you're one of the lucky few who actually enjoys seamless, blissful kayaking with a partner, friend, or sibling. If so, as Stephanie Tanner from Full House would say, "Well, pin a rose on your nose." The rest of us, however, know the truth: those picture-perfect moments are often staged for the camera. Welcome to the real world of tandem kayaking, often humorously referred to as the "Divorce Boat" experience.

Tandem kayaking offers one of those Instagram vs. Reality scenarios where you're supposed to glide through serene waters with your significant other, working together in perfect harmony. Spoiler alert: it's more like a splashy saga of mismatched paddling, bickering, and the occasional "accidental" shove into the water. If you value your relationship, individual kayaks are the way to go. Solo kayaking gives you the freedom to paddle at your own pace, enjoy peaceful solitude, and avoid the dreaded blame game of who’s making the boat go the wrong direction. So, buckle up (or paddle up), as we dive into my hilarious tandem kayaking experiences and why sometimes it's better to go solo.

When the fleshlings were little (seems like a lifetime ago), we, of course, had to use a tandem kayak for our paddling escapades. Nerve-racking doesn’t begin to cover it, especially since I was always paired with The Boy Child, who had more energy than a squirrel on a caffeine binge. How I kept us both out of the water remains a mystery, but I wasn’t about to let my squirmy 5-year-old keep me from the water. He was going to paddle, and he was going to enjoy it—or else. Spoiler alert: he did enjoy it, so much so that he got his own kayak (thanks, Sis) long before I did.

My first tandem paddling experience? Not exactly stellar, but I will also never forget our last paddle in the same boat.

A New Year’s Day trip down the beautiful Ichetucknee River—everyone was excited. Halfway down, we made the grave mistake of stopping at a dock. The river may not flow fast, but get in an awkward position against the dock with a squirmy kid climbing every which way, and it feels like a white-water torrent. After nearly flipping us and almost drowning, I declared he was banned from my boat. After some discussion, I concluded I couldn’t leave him at the dock or make him walk the miles back to the car. So, I swapped him with his sister, and she and I paddled the rest of the river without incident, while RJ got a taste of The Boy Child’s antics. Though I look back fondly on those days because we spent time together doing something we all loved, I’m eternally grateful for our fleet of individual yaks, so I never have to share again.

Even after the kids got their own kayaks, I thought my tandem days were over. But no. An unscripted stop at Silver Springs State Park and the allure of a clear kayak (more like a flat-bottomed canoe, but whatever) had us blind to the volatile nature of tandem paddling. The minute RJ and I got into the boat, I was ready to throw him overboard. While I adore my husband and he’s my favorite adventure buddy (when Biscuit the Adventure Pup isn’t available), his paddling technique drives me to the brink. His paddle strokes sound like a one-flippered seal going in circles—slapping the water on entry and exit. Absolutely maddening.

And then there’s my inability to stay in sync with him. I can’t even dance because my brain refuses to follow someone else’s lead. Out of sync with his terrible paddle strokes? Recipe for rage. Some people get annoyed by their partner’s chewing (me too, sounds like a Saint Bernard) or their inability to put things back (hello, I’m the problem here). But for me, my husband’s paddle strokes are the ultimate pet peeve, sending me into a murderous rage. A decent paddle stroke should be quiet, with little noise going in or out of the water. His strokes, though, are like a symphony of chaos. Add all that to my sync issues, and tandem paddling becomes my personal nightmare.

Now some of you may have no issue with tandem paddling. You and your partner glide through the water effortlessly. Your paddle strokes are even and efficient and your synchronization could be misconstrued as a well rehearsed dance routine. All I can say is, I am envious. Maybe it is a control issue for me, I don't want someone else influencing where I go and how quickly (or slowly) I get there. Or maybe some of us are just are not wired for this type of paddling. Perhaps I will try again in future, but I doubt it. 

What about you? Have you tried it? Does it irk you as much as me, or is it your preferred method of paddling?

Edited by: The Girl Child