Every time I am out paddling with the Penguin Paddlers club I feel two emotions rise up in me and begin to fight with each other when it is time to stop for lunch. The first is the one that always wins this battle. It comes in the form of my mother telling me that I am a young man and therefor should be self sacrificing by not taking one of the comfortable places to sit. The second, while never winning a battle, is still persistent. It is the selfish part of me that does not want to be uncomfortable sitting on the uneven ground. It seemed I was doomed to eat lunch in the dirt until I discovered the Walkstool. At $99.99 it was a little pricey but I really liked the features it had to offer. It is extremely comfortable, it is light weight, it fits into the day hatch of almost every kayak I have tried to put it in, you don't have to sit on the ground like you do with bleacher pads, and it is tough enough that four of them will hold up a car.
On the first paddle I went on after purchasing the Walkstool I got to field test it when we stopped for lunch. I watched as the rest of the Penguins I was with went about clearing spots on the ground to sit. Then I pulled out the Walkstool. I was met by curious glances that turned abruptly to bitterly jealous glares as I set the Walkstool up and sat down. I ate my lunch that day a king among peasants.
The next trip I took my wife with me when the Penguins went to Tahoe. That trip God decided I should not get to much of a big head and knocked me off my Walkstool throne because it was stolen from me. I know it was my fault. I should have been more protective of my Walkstool. I should not have let my wife try it. Now if I am lucky she will let me barrow it.
