Nature's Gifts to the Blind
Annie Young
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “I don’t have an answer for you. You are losing your sight.” Numbness settled in.
I enrolled in a rehabilitation program for the blind and visually impaired. I tried to maintain a positive front, but often felt frustrated at my seemingly inevitable blindness. Fear was my constant companion.
Many days, I found learning Braille increasingly difficult. Nerves got the best of me. A prickly feeling invaded my fingers, and I could not complete the lesson. The loud garbled voice shouting at me from the computer monitor felt like an assault, so I would skip computer and keyboarding classes. This was the most frustrating thing to me because I needed these skills to reenter the work force.
One day an instructor approached me and said, “Annie, you need a break. You should go on this kayaking trip that Wilderness Inquiry is offering and get some fresh air.” After weeks of encouragement from fellow students, I agreed.
I soon found myself in a kayak on a Lake Superior bay waiting to complete a required tipping and escape test. 3-2-1! The countdown concluded and my kayak overturned. No turning back! My mind raced as my lungs emptied. I questioned my remaining decision-making ability while the ice chilling water blanketed my skin. I knew I had to maneuver my way to the surface, but first I had to gather control of myself and ignore the prickly feeling covering my skin. Nerves again. Fear nipped at the nape of my neck.
Blind and upside down, I had only my fumbling fingers to find the loop that could release me from the skirt that had kept me dry. My heart was beating so fast and furiously that I thought I had created a new wave pattern. Though I had a personal floatation device securely attached to my body, I nearly panicked with the thought that my wet gear would sink me. And just before any more crazy thoughts surfaced, I did.
At this point, my mind was still trying to determine where I was exactly. I could feel the sand and rock beneath my feet and cold water splashing about my waist and chest. As I put one foot in front of the other and directed myself toward the cheers from the shore, the water began playing tag at my ankles. Silly souls, I smiled to myself, you’re next.
Since I had previously canoed, I picked up the paddling technique fairly quickly. My guide provided me with verbal directions and within the hour I felt like a pro, gliding along the serene waters. When I took a break from paddling I reached down to feel the water. My fingers enjoyed the cool whooshing and refreshing splashes.
Admittedly, this was all a bit trickier than my usual ‘mobility’ lesson. A typical lesson included walking several city blocks and possibly getting on and off a bus. Sometimes I had to cross a few controlled intersections, assisted only by the sound of parallel traffic. My training was at a plateau because of fear. I was afraid to take the next step. I didn’t trust my other senses.
Confidence is sneaky. I don’t recall when I realized that the skills I used to traverse the great outdoors were interchangeable with those I was struggling to master. What was different was the fear factor. I had accomplished the unthinkable: setting up my own tent, successfully tipping a kayak, preparing outdoor meals, piloting a kayak through sea caves and sunken shipwrecks. Soon I learned to identify the haunting sound of the loon and the ‘chunking’ of foraging chipmunks. My ability to hear and my sense of touch are vitally important to me. Knowing that I could now rely on these senses with greater confidence, I returned to my rehab training and graduated.
I am so grateful to the natural world. It gave me my life back. In fact, I enjoy a richer, fuller life now. I am more aware of the world around me, and I use wild places to train for triathlons. Life is good!
For the sake of all humankind and to secure the medley of Earth’s biology, we must work together to preserve the wild places along with their wildlife. I am convinced that a cure will some day be available to me. It may even be waiting to be discovered just beneath the lapping waves of Lake Superior.
Annie Young serves as an ambassador for Wilderness Inquiry, a non-profit organization offering outdoor adventure to persons of all abilities. A resident of Burnsville, Minnesota, she is a multi-dimensional artist.
