Last night about 8pm, I put in on the west end of Lake Pelican
after a couple of warm-up stretches. The lake was completely flat and not even
the hint of a breeze as I pulled away from the shore, sighting on the north
ramp about a mile away. As I worked through the initial soreness of my arms and
shoulders, the kayak knifed through the surface waters, effortlessly sliding through with barely a paddle stroke needed to push. Daylight continued to
fade so I hooked up my nav light and switched it on, its pale glow not
interfering with the stillness of the evening. Dark purple chased the pastel
blues across the lake as a half full moon lighted my passage. Making my turn
and crossing to the south shore, dodging mats of weeds, hitting my groove and
listening to my favorite paddle tunes playing softly on the mp3 player.
The crossing complete and now on the
homeward leg of the night’s journey, full dark has descended. I take my bearing
from a known yard light and carefully count the warm glow of light twinkling
from the windows of the neighbor hood houses. I get too close to a small family of
Canadian geese who protest the intrusion loudly taking off in search of a more
secluded area. The silence of the lake enhances my sense of solitude, my world
shrinking to nothing more than the rhythm of the paddle.
I beach my kayak at the takeout surprised that I am done so soon but with
the great feeling of peace that only quiet reflection and meditation can provide. I make a few stretches to work the kinks
out and try to focus on the moment to carry the feeling through the rest of the week.....
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