WEEKEND LEAVES HER SEEING RED.

Byline: Nataly Sosa A First-Person Report Staff Writer

Fishing and kayaking are not in my vocabulary. My last foray into the ``outdoors'' was buying my Christmas tree last year. So, I was skeptical when it was suggested I leave the comforts of climate control for a weekend of fishing and kayaking with 22 other women.

I hadn't been offered many opportunities to investigate the outdoors world and had little interest in showing my ineptitude to 22 strangers. But I was roped in - by a man, I should add - who had me convinced that somehow I could be a better person if I learned the finer points of bait.

So I enrolled, for the weekend, in the ``Becoming an Outdoors Woman'' program. BOW, sponsored by the California Department of Fish and Game, is an 11-year-old program designed to expose women to the mostly male-dominated world of outdoor sports.

``It gives women a safe place to learn,'' said Susan Herrgesell, the program's director.

But I had my doubts about how much I would really learn in a single weekend, or whether I, with so little experience, would even make it to the end.

My doubts were somewhat assuaged when I arrived at Calamigos Ranch in Agoura and saw my 22 fellow campmates looking just as nervous and no more prepared than I was.

The women spanned all ages and came from all parts of California and Nevada to participate. Jerri Conrad, a 30-something from Reno, Nev., eagerly made the trip with two friends, partly to escape life for a weekend but also to learn skills she could parlay into quality time with her husband.

``I don't expect to know everything about fishing,'' Conrad said, ``but I want to be able to go out with him and say, 'Hey, this looks familiar.' ''

Another woman, Angela Hall, left behind a husband in Simi Valley to come out and ``try something new.''

Over dinner and wine, we sat under the stars to find common ground, and soon I was almost at ease. But my apprehension returned early the next morning when I learned outdoors womanhood begins at 6:30.

I wondered what would be worse, going through with the weekend or having to admit I'd quit before it started. But, after breakfast and much coffee, I resigned myself to making the best of it as we headed for the beach.

I was among the half of our group who decided to kayak first. Eleven of us sat in the sand with two full-time beach dudes, Joe Pappano and Ben Davis, who moonlight as ocean-kayaking instructors with Southwind Kayaks.

In two hours, Ben and Joe carefully explained equipment, safety procedures and rowing maneuvers.

And everything to beach-dude Ben was ``Cool.''

This kayaking business was easy, according to Ben. Put on a life jacket and helmet, strap yourself into the boat and go. Cool.

Although, standing on the shore in a vest and helmet, I didn't feel too cool. And while the kayaking and rowing seemed easy to so of the morning rescuing my oar from dense pockets of seaweed.

We kayaked until past noon, then returned to the shore to have lunch and share our adventures with the half of our group who had started the day fishing.

After the break, we split again and my half joined Jean Seder, a fishing instructor and real-estate agent from Santa Barbara. Jean, a conscientious fisherwoman, carefully explained etiquette and technique while doling out bits of squid, anchovy heads, sand crabs and worms ... thank goodness lunch was light.

While fishing, I stood next to USC pathologist Camilla Cobb, who only moments after her first cast began yelling excitedly that she felt something tugging. I watched as she and Jean worked what they decided was a perch to the shore.

``I was so excited when I caught it,'' Cobb later told me. She hadn't been fishing since she was a little girl and always wanted to try it again.

Shortly afterward, someone else caught something, a sea bass this time.

I hurriedly cast my line to make my catch but again the seaweed foiled my plans. The weeds put up quite a struggle, but I finally got the better of it and reeled in the monster.

Dejected, I returned to camp with my group only to discover that no day at the beach comes without consequences. While others caught fish, I had caught rays and found myself bloated, burned and sweaty like an overcooked weenie. So much for being an outdoors woman.

The next morning I awoke wrinkled, red and feeling ridiculous. I felt I'd failed the program and I yearned for the safety of my urbanite life.

But as I listened to the conversations of my intrepid co-outdoors women, I didn't hear them discussing technicalities such as the difference between a fishing rod and a fishing pole. What I heard instead were declarations of accomplishment and sentiments of pride and friendship.

I had it wrong. These women had not come here to become experts on the outdoors. Instead, they had come to learn something new and something about themselves.

Looking back on that weekend, I, too, could say I learned something. I learned to kayak and to fish, but I'd also learned I was capable of so much more than climate control had to offer.

So, for many weeks, I wore that sunburn with pride, my red badge of courage.

The price to pay for becoming an outdoors woman.

CAPTION(S):

7 photos

Photo:

(1 -- color) John Nores, volunteer instructor, teaching one outdoor woman how to shoot.

(2 -- color) Reno girl Frankie Vigil ... what a catch!

(3 -- color) The girls and I squeezing into our kayaks. Nice helmets, ladies

(4 -- color) Jean Seder, on the left, said Angela Hall caught a perch ... or was it a bass?

(5 -- color) It's me! Nataly.

(6) How do I get out of this seaweed?

(7) Fish heads make good bait ... ewooo

Photos by Charlotte Schmid-Maybach