She wanted to do extreme sports. I wanted to sit in cafés, chain-smoke cigarettes and feel the summer sun on my face. We compromised on kayaking.

We stood outside the boating station on Lake Geneva. We hadn’t slept well. We’d already had an argument about who’d lost the map earlier that day. We went over to the board in a sun-blasted daze – our arms folded across our chests. The prices were marked by the hour.

“How long should we go for?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” said Lauren.

“Well, are we going to try to make it to the other side?”

“Whatever you think’s best.”

“I think one hour seems too short. If we’re going to go all the way we’ll need time to work at it. What do you reckon?”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good. Let’s do that.”

She hadn’t made a decision – she said it to shut me up.

“Okay,” I said. “As long as you’re sure?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Unless you think it’s too much money? Switzerland is expensive. We’ve already spent a fair bit.”

“Look, this is what I mean when I say you never make any decisions. I suggest one thing, you agree, then you go back on your choice almost straight away.”

“I’m only saying going for 3 hours is a lot of money!”

“Come on! We can go in the same kayak to save money. Anyway, are we going for 3 hours or not? That’s all I want to know.”

“I already said I don’t know.”

“Right, well, I’ll go and ask if we have to pay upfront. Maybe they only charge us by the time we spend out there? Maybe we…”

“Okay,” she said.

I went over to the counter. A woman in her 30s greeted me in French. She told me we had to pay upfront. I thanked her. I went back over to Lauren and explained the deal.

“So what do you reckon?” I asked. “Is 3 hours good for you?”

“Not sure,” she said. “What if we get bored after an hour?”

“You’re the one who wanted to do this. We won’t get to the other side if we only go for an hour. Let’s go for 3, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And let’s get one of those tandem kayaks. It’ll be easier to paddle. Plus I won’t have to keep waiting for you all the time.”

We went up to the counter again. We paid for 3 hours and grabbed our swimming gear. The woman in her 30s told us we could get changed in a shed off to one side. We went over to the shed. We got changed. Lauren looked good getting into her bikini. I told her she looked good getting into her bikini. She smiled, did a little shimmy for me and gave me a kiss.

We went back outside. A young tanned guy had positioned the kayak on the lake for us. We got in. Lauren went in front – I went in back. The young tanned guy pushed out onto the water.

We took things slowly at first. We got comfortable in the boat together. The sun was out in full force and the lake was ours.

“How does this work?” asked Lauren. “Paddle on the right to go the right – or is it the other way round?”

“Good question,” I said. “Paddle right now.”

I watched her work out which side was right. We dragged our paddles as one. The kayak went straight – no discernible movement either way.

“Let’s try it again,” I said.

The kayak began pulling to the left.

“And again,” I said.

We turned it round – all the way. We were almost facing in the right direction. But the kayak was still turning fast. Lauren put another stroke down the right.

“No, no, no,” I said.

“Make up your mind,” she said.

“We need to counter it. Down the left this time.”

“Okay.”

Two strokes down the left and we were starting to go too far the other way. I countered it with a hard one down the right.

“Look,” I said, “as soon as you feel the kayak moving one way, counter it by the putting the paddle down that same side. It seems counterintuitive, but that’s how it is. Got it?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Cool. Got it.”

Behind us and around the curve of the bay ahead lay the Swiss town of Montreux. The old buildings and townhouses stood out in front of the mountains, gorges and forests. On the shore we could see people bathing, swimming and diving off the jetties.

We kept paddling, working it out as we went. We decided to head for the much bigger mountains on the other side of the lake. Little did we know that we were trying to get to France.

But it was peaceful out there. The sounds of the people drifted away. Our 9-to-6 lives back home lost all meaning. We were young, beautiful and full of hope. We talked about living in the Alps one day. We moved ever onwards to the other side.

But kayaking was a lot of hard work for little reward. If you stopped for a moment you lost all momentum. Every stroke got you only the tiniest bit further. It also screwed your direction.

“Hang on,” I said. “Can’t you see we’re drifting to the left?”

“No, it’s you,” she said. “You keep paddling too hard and turning us around.”

“I’m just trying to sync up with what you’re doing. You’re the one leading this thing. Try to anticipate things further ahead.”

“It’s you!”

“Fine. Yes, you’re right, as per usual. Let’s just get over to the other side as soon as possible, all right?”

She didn’t answer me. She kept paddling – one down each side. After a few more strokes I decided to see how far we’d come. It was a mistake – we were barely a third of the way across.

“Goddamn it,” I said. “We’re barely a third of the way across.”

Lauren stopped paddling and looked over my shoulder to see for herself. I saw the disappointment in her face. I felt sorry for having brought her out this far without any hope of making it.

“What shall we do now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Carry on? See other people?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Get to a café. Watch people walking up and down. Get a glass of wine. Drink and smoke in the sunshine. That sort of thing.”

“That’s all you ever want to do. But yeah, fine. Okay.”

Lauren turned around to face France again. I leaned forward to kiss her neck. She let me kiss her neck and leaned back into me.

“So where else do you want to go?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“For fuck’s sake. It’s not that hard.”

“You make a decision, then.”

“Well, shall we just carry on as we have been?”

“Yes, what’s changed?”

“Nothing much, I guess.”

“Right.”

She forgave a lot in me, and I in her. We were always in each other’s company. We changed as one every second.

We went through the motions. We paddled hard, trying to sync our efforts. We didn’t say anything to each other.

For 10 minutes we went at it. I stopped to look back at how far we’d come. We were still only a third of the way across.

“Fuck it,” I said. “We’re not going to make it. What now?”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “You decide.”

“Oh, come on. Just one clear choice of your own, please.”

“Hang on – you’re just as bad at this as I am. But if you’re going to force me, let’s head to that old castle. Yeah?”

“What, that one over there? On the near side?”

“Yeah.”

We headed towards the castle on the near shore. I gave each drag on the paddle everything I could. I thought about personal goals and tried to measure everything – distance travelled, dead time between strokes and how best to break the water.

I was starting to regret it. It was taking too long. I started thinking in that meditative way when doing mechanical actions over and over. Was going in circles the sum of our relationship?

I thought back to the day before. We’d had an argument about something so inconsequential I couldn’t even remember what had started it. Lauren got so frustrated with me that she walked off. I headed in the opposite direction – along the lake.

I wondered where she’d gone – what she was doing. I walked into the town. I found the artists’ quarter. There were tiny studios down every side street, each one no wider than a double doorway. I carried on up steep hillsides and found a path over some train tracks. It led to a trail. I took it, left the town and headed into the surrounding gorges. The mud paths twisted around the rock. I climbed over wooden bridges. There were streams below and huge drops that scared the life out of me.

I kept going. I was tired and thirsty. I saw a dog out by itself. It came straight out of the trees, ran down a small path between the rocks and started drinking out of the stream. I decided to follow suit. I realised I was in the middle of nowhere, no one around, surrounded by amazing scenery. But I felt it was all for nothing if I couldn’t share it with Lauren.

I started heading back. I broke out into a run. I covered the distance back in half the time it took me to get out there.

At the lake Lauren was nowhere to be seen. I turned my phone on to call her. I let it register on one of the Swiss networks. I received several missed calls and a voice message asking where I was and when I’d be back – she was lonely, frightened and sad.

I rang her. She said she was 10 minutes away. I sat down on a bench, lit a cigarette and watched an old man playing some young punks at table tennis. He was beating the living daylights out of the young punks. Lauren arrived soon enough with tears in her eyes. I wiped them away, kissed her and held her in my arms.

“Look at this guy,” I said. “He’s great. He’s been smashing these guys all over, point after point, for bloody ages.”

“I missed you,” she said. “I didn’t know where you were. I was scared.”

“Scared? We’re in Switzerland. It’s safer than where we live!”

“I know. I just don’t like us being apart, that’s all. Promise me you’ll never leave me…”

Back on the lake someone let off a horn. It sounded like the end of all things. I looked this way and that. It echoed through the surrounding mountains. Birds took to flight. I felt exposed.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Was it meant for us?”

The horn went off again. We looked around.

“Is that ferry moving our way?” asked Lauren.

“Oh, fuck,” I said, “that’s it.”

“What shall we do?”

“I don’t know. Get the hell out of its way?”

She didn’t like my tone. She gave me a look. I ignored it.

The ferry had left a port further along on the Swiss side of the lake. It was moving towards us in a murderous arc. We had no idea if we were in its way – or if we would soon be in its way if we kept going in the same direction.

“Right, paddle faster,” I said.

“Which way?” she asked.

“Fuck. I don’t know. Back the way we’ve come?”

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. She nodded, grabbed her paddle and turned around to face the front. We turned the kayak in the right direction and gunned it. After 30 seconds of furious paddling we were spent. We’d moved about 10 lengths.

We stopped to catch our breath and looked back. The ferry was getting closer. It was headed straight for us.

Another horn blast.

“It’s going to hit us,” she said.

“This is fucking terrible,” I said.

The headlines ran through my head. What a ridiculous way to go. I didn’t even want to be there in the first place. Lauren started fretting. I tried to clear my head and think straight.

“All right, all right,” I said. “This isn’t the time. Let’s just get over to the shore as soon as we can.”

“Okay, okay,” she said.

We took up our paddles again, crashed them into the lake and moved through the water as one. I talked her through it.

“Two down the left,” I said. “Now one down the right. That’s it. Okay, and another down the left. Good.”

We surpassed our previous efforts. The ferry was now some 20 or 30 metres away. It was headed in another direction.

We kept paddling until the last moment any way. We were nowhere near the shore, but we were safe enough. The ferry went past the spot we’d been moments ago. We sat with our paddles across our legs. We watched it go by. We smiled at each other.

The first couple of waves were only a warning. Soon we were being lifted up half a metre. Lauren’s sun lotion went over the side. We watched it bobbing up and down. We waited it out. We gripped the sides – until the waves became small ripples again.

“If you can get us over there,” I said, “I’ll try to hook it in with my paddle, okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

I watched her put her paddle down the left side. I knew she was doing it wrong. I willed her to do it wrong anyway.

“NO, NO, NO,” I shouted. “DOWN THE OTHER SIDE. HOW ARE YOU NOT GETTING THIS?”

“FUCKING HELL. CHILL OUT, WOULD YOU? JUST FOR ONCE!”

I sighed and leaned over the side to hook the sun lotion with my paddle. It was just out of range. I leaned further over.

“Wait,” she said, “I think I can get it.”

“Don’t do that,” I said.

She got her paddle ready. She reached over for the sun lotion. I knew what was going to happen.

I flailed about in the cold lake. The ice water grabbed my balls, stomach and chest. I did my best to force in 3 lungfuls of air. I saw the kayak turn upright out of the corner of my eye. I flailed about some more. I kicked a few times and began treading water. I grabbed the side of the kayak and looked at Lauren. She had been watching me. Now she had some ammunition.

I tried to look easy-going. She giggled at me, kicked once and pulled herself up. I helped her get in, watched her ass slip over the top and grabbed the paddles before trying to get myself back in the kayak. It took me 3 attempts. I rubbed my chest raw with the effort of it all. But I made it in, sat down and examined my wounds. I looked over at Lauren. She looked back.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?” I shouted.

“I thought I had it,” she said.

“DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN.”

“It’s not likely, is it? Anyway. What about my sun lotion?”

“FUCK THE SUN LOTION. WE’RE GOING BACK. RIGHT FUCKING NOW.”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad. It was an accident.”

I didn’t answer and started paddling. We got near to the boating station half an hour later. I saw that we weren’t heading in at the right angle. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DOWN THE LEFT TO PUSH US TO THE RIGHT. WE NEED TO GO RIGHT.”

She ignored me and put her paddle in the water on the right. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Then she pulled us in at the perfect angle with a deft drag-turn manoeuvre.

We smiled at the young tanned guy, got out of the kayak and headed over to the shed to get changed. Our clothes were soaking wet. We grabbed our stuff and walked back out into the sun.

“Let’s get dry on the jetty,” I said. “I need a coffee and a cigarette. Can you go get us a table, please?”

“Okay.”

I went over to the woman in her 30s at the counter. She looked me up and down with a face on. I asked for two coffees and an ice-lolly, paid for them and went over to the table.

I handed Lauren the ice-lolly. She didn’t say thanks. She looked away and sucked at the ice-lolly. I sat down, lit a cigarette and looked over the lake. The soft water lapped against the shore. The sun dried us off. I started to relax.

“You should hear yourself sometimes,” she said. “Shouting at me. Always pointing out my mistakes.”

“Look,” I said, “I’m really sorry about that. It’s just frustrating sometimes. I feel that we’re wasting so much of our lives through fucking about, arguing back and forth, endlessly going around in circles – just like we were out there on the lake. I don’t know why we do it to ourselves, I honestly don’t.”

“Me neither,” she said.

I took a drag on my cigarette. It wasn’t having its usual effect. The coffee was making my guts feel hollow.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I think you just need to trust me more,” she said.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not an idiot, you know.”

“I know you’re not. I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you too. You know that. But you need to relax more.”

“I’m relaxing now, aren’t I? But yes, I get the message. I said I’m sorry. Now let’s stop over analysing things so much.”

We sat in silence once more. I took a few drags on my cigarette, blew the smoke towards the lake and smiled at Lauren. She smiled back, put her ice-lolly stick in the ashtray and did an impression of me flailing about in the water. It was a good one. I laughed despite myself. She started laughing at me. Then we were both laughing.

About Craig Hitchings

Craig is an autobiographical fiction writer from Bristol, UK. He is also the founder and editor of Umwelt House - a boutique publisher specialising in autobiographical fiction novellas. He has lived in Catalonia and Andalusia, Spain, and now lives permanently in London.

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