Somehow, I managed to block the fact that I'm absolutely phobic of water that I can't see through or easily swim out of. Plus, fish might touch me.

So when we arrived at Maheras Gentry Park, on Detroit's eastside, early on Saturday morning, I was already in a panic. I'd never been in a kayak, and I had no idea how to paddle. Once we launched our boats into the park's quiet cove, my problems began. My kayak started floating away and my first response was to close my eyes and hyperventilate.

Thankfully, RKC had brought 15 volunteer safety boaters for 24 kayakers. They assured us nobody had ever died on their watch – and only a few had capsized. If we had an emergency, they'd be right there to get us back in the boat. My fears were momentarily allayed.

Then we started heading out to rougher waters, a flotilla of brightly colored boats bobbing into the Detroit River. First problem: I couldn't navigate my kayak through the shallows and out of the cove. After several attempts I made it, but I was not emotionally or technically prepared for what was ahead.

As soon as we hit the rough water, the sound of the Detroit Grand Prix revving on the wind, my kayak took on a life of its own. My brain couldn't connect the turn-right-by-paddling-left part of the program. And there, in the view of Belle Isle, I cried. And I don't mean a little sniffle. No, it was full-on sobbing as I floated dangerously close to the shipping lane, freighters and speed boats lurking nearby.

One of the RKC volunteers, Jerry Glotfelty, was there within seconds, calming and soothing me. He tethered my kayak to his and paddled us toward the calm canal that everyone was heading toward. I stopped crying, slightly.

Once we hit the canal, though, I realized why I was here. It's like Venice, but in a thoroughly Detroit way. Residents watched and greeted us as we floated by; a few took pictures. We saw well-kept boats and even a sunken sailboat. The trees swayed overhead. The birds sang and the dogs barked at us. It was magical.

When we headed back out on to the river, making our way to another set of canals near Riverfront-Lakewood Park, my baby skills were tested again. Despite having mastered(ish) the paddle, the wind and waves quickly took me. I couldn't turn my kayak and I started heading back to the shipping lanes and off to Canadian waters. I cried, again. This time, at least, it was as much from terror as anger. I was mad at myself for not being able to turn the boat.

Again, Jerry rescued me. Thank you, Jerry.

Back in the canals, the willows weeping in the water, we again entered another world. Some of the kayakers couldn't believe we were in Detroit; I could. That's what I love about this city already: the surprises that are around every corner and the absolute beauty everywhere you look.