It was with considerable sadness that I read over my journal entry from my first trip to Mallows Bay. This was from back in the days before blogs, when I kept a physical journal of my kayaking adventures in a handsome journal. Written by hand, in cursive. The entry was from September 2000. Wow, nineteen years ago. David Moore led the trip. On this particular date David’s father had just passed away and, I note in my journal, when we stopped at the northernmost shipwreck at Sandy Point he pulled out a bottle of wine for all of us to toast his dad’s memory. David himself passed away last year, hence the melancholia. My journal entry from that trip began, “I’ve got to stop taking David Moore seriously.” Indeed, while he did a lot for the kayaking community (the Pirates of Georgetown, the group with which I’ve been kayaking for 20 years, would have fizzled in its second season if not for Dave), he always was one to be dramatic about the dangers of the conditions. He had so over-hype...
One man's journey into the great outdoors of Washington, DC and its environs.