July
8, 2004
Paddling
at the Solstice
June brings long, enchanted paddle-evenings shrouded in summer
haze without the soggy breath of August.
The dinner dishes are dumped quickly into the sink. Boats and
gear are corralled and loaded on carts for pulling down to the
creek. Deer flies keep our one free hand busy with the promise
of a satisfying kill. And then it’s launch, slide into
the cockpit, and paddle out through the tiny evening ripples.
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The wind
barely whispers through the marsh grasses while redwings’
rusty-gate scolding echoes in the cooling air like out-of-tune
vocalists in an old stone church. The paddle’s own song
is light and limpid, quietly rejoicing in the medium of life.
Downstream, two mallards preen on Dick and Lois’s floating
dock, caring not a whit what gawking paddlers think. Other birds
break the evening silence with bits of song, the wood thrush
contributing his heavenly melody.
With each paddle stroke, a bouquet of creek odors rises from
the water, as from a salty vintage. Subtle reminders of mud,
fish, crabs, and more exotic creatures that lie hidden beneath
the surface blend with a quick whiff of oil added by a boat
long passed.
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But what
most draws us out at this mystical time is the light. A heavy
haze turns the sinking sun to a red so dull it seems like pigment
rather than the blazing engine that drives photosynthesis. Its
message is clear. The day is over and we’d best head back
to the ramp if we want to see to stow the boats.
But we dawdle anyway, because the barred owls are conversing,
one on either side of the creek. “Who cooks for you?”,
and because this is the South, an occasional, “Who cooks
for you all?” A third chimes in and dialog becomes owlish
cacophony.
To one
in a hurry, so little seems to be happening out here in the
fading light, but the slow, silent progress of a craft with
a four-thousand-year-old heritage lets us enter into the subtle
secrets of an evening on the water, and we are at peace.
Previous
"Song Of The Paddle" Columns
•May 2004
•April 2004
•March 2004
•February 2004
