Canadian Boat Ride
It was a dreary, rain filled morning, with a banged up aluminum boat with no doubt much more time on the edge of the water than on its surface. The smell of fall was in the air, damp leaves that lived up their short life before the glory of their color could arrive. It was a new lake for us, my bride and me. Like a dream we had spent the night listening to the rain cascade endlessly through the canopy that surrounded the cabin. The boat was a relic of 1950's mass production, the remnants of her beginning was the shadow of a turquoise stripe across her bow. Somehow the stripe had clung to the surface of the metal as tenaciously as the environment tried to retch it to the wind. I struggled with whether to take her out but in the end the call of the water caused me to walk moss covered paths to see what she could do.
The boat was stored on two ramps of wood, dragged to its position by a winch that was strapped to a birch, the tree younger than the boat, the winch older than some of the rocks by the looks of it. Any effort to force her down the slide was as much a risk to the boat as it was to the person desiring to get in her. Moss covered granite stones; mud and compost helped me slide perfectly but was of no use with regard to the boat. I managed to break her free and she slid gracefully into the water. Somehow by the grace of the Almighty I slid with her surprising myself that I was in her instead of alongside her in the cool water. My bride joined me at the shore looking like she was ready for a photo shoot in yachting magazine and while I, dripping with sweat, wondered myself if there was a super yacht coming and picking her up instead of me. I arrived at the pier with an oar in my right hand and prayed that as her majesty came down the ladder that her Polo deck shoes would not get soiled which didn't matter because I would personally soil them for her as I struggled to start the beast while in gear. My bride settled in to the comfortable aluminum seat and immediately informed the Captain that the climate control system of my fine ship was allowing her to become cold and wet.
Ultimately, I returned my bride to the shore and I sped off and found a new affection for this little boat. Like an ugly horse that when set free runs like the wind so did she and I was once again filled with the joy and peace of the water below and the wind in my face. Boats are just like people having their own personality, how they approach the water, how they react to it, how strong they are in adversity, how beautiful they are in view, how well they are crafted, how they stand the test of time, how they endure over time, and how they bring joy to the people use them. I won't remember the sweat and effort; it was all washed away by the wind in my face on a little boat brought to life.