Feeling the age old call of spring, and wishing to pass on to my offspring the wisdom I gained from my father, I decided it was time to let my children experience their world on a close up one to one basis. For reasons I need not explain, I knew that a rowboat and a fishing rod were exactly the tools I needed.

Most of the month of June I spent on my A.S.S. (adjusting to sticker shock). The price of a simple man powered rowboat has escalated into the realm I once reserved for European travel. However, by keeping a close watch on the classified ads, then calling to bear all of the tricks and wiles culled from years in the business world, I managed to purchase a twenty year old series of patches and dents that was once a twelve foot rowboat, and paid only slightly more than twice as much as I did for my first new car.

My deepening dreams of the upcoming July 4th weekend received their first serious threat when I attempted to move the good ship 'Illconcieved' from its resting place in the backyard of its previous owner. The original plan called for simply throwing an old blanket on top of the family car, placing the inverted vessel on the blanket, and securing it with ropes. Sadly, I can report that modern automotive designers have completely failed to take any such plan into consideration. The boat fit neatly over the top of the car like a helmet, obscuring the view in all directions.

"What you need is an easy loader", the boats former owner said with a chuckle and a slight shaking of his head. I found one at a local trailer dealer. It is an ingenious device that both secures the rear of a small boat above a vehicle, and allows one person to load and unload the boat without assistance. Perfect. Well, almost perfect.

While the easy loader itself is not terribly expensive, my local trailer dealer regrettably forgot to mention to me until after I had purchased the device that I would need a trailer hitch on my car before I could use it. He, of course, was able to provide me with the necessary hardware completely installed for just slightly more than the value of the car.

Finally, with the rowboat secured on top of the car, lunch and cold drinks in the cooler, fishing gear in the trunk, and two kids in the back seat, I was ready to enjoy a day of peace and quiet. Perfect. Well, almost perfect.

It would serve no real purpose to examine in detail the events surrounding the actual first meeting of man, boat, and water. Let me just caution that it can be of major financial consequence to be aware of local registration fees, licensing fees, launching fees, and inspection fees. Which brings up the next major stumbling block on my road back to nature. Every state has its own quite specific rules regarding safety equipment required in watercraft. Life preservers, ropes, fire extinguishers, etc. I can say with the serene certainty of experience that it will pay handsomely to learn these requirements before approaching actual water in its native element. To summarize a painful memory as briefly as possible: yes, it is possible to double the cost of your boat by approaching a state recreation officer without benefit of preparation.

At long last, boat, children, and father come together on the water. Perfect. Well, almost perfect.

Have you ever wondered why rowboats are designed so that the person responsible for propulsion must face away from the direction of travel? Why, after hundreds of years of use, has nobody come up with a better arrangement? And why does our benevolent government allow such a dangerous condition to continue? Imagine the outcry if bicycles or roller skates were intentionally designed in such a manner that they required the user to face away from his direction of travel. But I digress.

After some minor experimentation, it was agreed that my son (a child of any gender will suffice) would sit at the back of the boat, and advise me of our progress while I rowed. Now it happened, just by chance, that the body of water we had selected for our maiden voyage is bisected by a causeway. To get from one side of this roadway to the other by boat, one must pass through a very small opening created by a culvert pipe, or a piece of a broken drinking glass, or some such.

Having gained a bit of confidence, and feeling the need to bolster my children's confidence in our new hobby, I decided to cross the causeway, and headed toward the tiny opening with brash confidence. When my son saw what I intended to do he sat up a bit straighter and kept a sharp eye to business.

"Left" he said, while we were still two hundred yards from the causeway, then fell silent to study the effect of his instruction. "Left", he said again, a bit more forcefully, as we approached our target. "Left", again, with real conviction, and concern in his eyes. "Left, LEFT, L-E-F-T", crunch, splash. "I meant my left. It was an old fishing rod anyway".

Eventually, we did manage to get through that opening using a hand over hand technique, grasping the wall but, by that time, the boat was swamped. The children swear it was from the gash in the hull which resulted from our collision. I think it was simply the will of Neptune to reclaim the spirit of another vessel.

To summarize, I can attest to the fact that boating can bring parents and children together, and help both gain a better focus on the natural world around them.

 Personally, though, I'm into hiking.