This summer, we hosted two 13-year-old relatives from the east coast for a week of outdoor adventures, designing the experience to delight them. We went rock climbing, mountain biking, and so forth.  Other years, we had taken them boating on Lynx Lake; we love the stunning scenery there. However, we decided this time to take them to Watson Lake, a much larger body of water with very different surroundings.  Both they and we had taken many photos from the Peavine Trail of kayakers on Watson Lake; we thought it would be fun for the boys to boat there themselves.

At the last minute, my husband was unable to come boating, so the boys and I were on our own. I was pleased with the ease of the rental:  park 10-20 yards from the kiosk, sign a form, hand over $20, and don life jackets.  The man we paid put the boat in the water, with some assistance from one of the boys. Couldn’t be simpler. 

Since we are not experienced kayakers, the three of us ended up in a canoe – with the boys paddling.  For an hour, we glided silently past huge rocks and took pictures of the many birds who conveyed the impression that they own the lake.  We floated past one of the imposing rock walls we had climbed the previous day.

As we approached the dock, I asked the boys to rate the boating experience on a scale of one to ten.  “One” means, “I wish I’d never heard of this activity,” and “ten” means, “This activity by itself made the week worth doing.”

They rated it a “six.”  In contrast, they had rated rock climbing a resounding “ten.”

I asked, “How does boating here compare to boating on Lynx Lake?”

“Lynx Lake is better.”

“What makes Lynx Lake better?”

“They have paddleboats.”

Ah-ha!  The boys find paddleboats easier to steer and propel (and I would have kept an eye on them from a separate paddleboat, so that they could have felt more independent).

Did the boys care about ease of parking and rental logistics?  No.  Having a bigger lake for “messing about in boats?”  No.  Seeing different scenery?  No.  They just wanted to be on the water in a paddleboat.

Now imagine that I am a health care provider and the boys are my patients.  I had planned for them a new and different “treatment” that would clearly -- from my perspective -- deliver a better experience.  I provided information about the plan ahead of time and got their agreement -- although I hadn’t mentioned what type of boat we would have, not considering that a key feature of the experience.

When we got to the lake and it became clear that we would have a canoe, did they say anything?  No, like many patients (research shows), they stayed silent as their provider proceeded with enthusiasm.

The experience reminded me once again: treatments that are new and different aren’t necessarily “improved.”  It depends entirely on what’s important to the patients.