'As if a Sea should part
And show a further Sea -And that - a further - and the Three
But a presumption be -
Of Periods of Seas -
Unvisited of Shores -
Themselves the Verge of Seas to be -
Eternity - is Those - '
-Emily Dickinson
I wake refreshed, but even so, doze for about half an hour.
I make the mistake (in the night) of drinking half the contents of my water bottle and as a result, need to get up at 3:36 a.m. Once up, I gaze over the moonlit Trinity Lake, feeling overwhelmed by my minuscule place on this earth.
It is all so beautiful.
Today.
And day three on my own.
I get a good breakfast fire going, and put a full kettle on to boil. Once my mug of tea is made, I drop two eggs into the still boiling kettle, find my clock, time five minutes, toast pita.
It is cooler today. I am feeling energetic, and decide to tackle the trail clearing then make an anchor, after breakfast but before any art happens.
*
I head down to the trail with my small saw and secateurs. And as I reach the tangled path, I begin my clearing. It is good to bend and stretch. My fifty-nine-year-old body is stiff from sleeping on the ground, but mercifully not as bad as it might be. My 'bed', really quite comfortable, but even so, this morning my shoulders and hips are feeling it.
I work from the campsite end, slowly, down to the canoe. It is satisfying work, as the passage from site to canoe to site will be much easier. I no longer need a sweater on, and peel this off. Once I reach the canoe, I scour about for a good sized rock to use as an anchor. I have a fifteen foot fine strong rope, but will need a rock with some uneven jagged bits to hold the criss-crossed knotted rope.
This I find.
I loop the other end of the rope through the brass ring of the bow deck, and tying it, lift the rock into the bow.
I want to canoe out to where I was yesterday and give the anchor a test run.
I'm not sure how deep the bay is at it's deepest, but the fifteen foot rope is more than long enough thirty feet from shore. I loop and retie the knot in the brass ring. At least now I know that if I'm out drawing and writing on a windy day, I will, more or less, stay put.
*
August, 1966
I get a good breakfast fire going, and put a full kettle on to boil. Once my mug of tea is made, I drop two eggs into the still boiling kettle, find my clock, time five minutes, toast pita.
It is cooler today. I am feeling energetic, and decide to tackle the trail clearing then make an anchor, after breakfast but before any art happens.
*
I head down to the trail with my small saw and secateurs. And as I reach the tangled path, I begin my clearing. It is good to bend and stretch. My fifty-nine-year-old body is stiff from sleeping on the ground, but mercifully not as bad as it might be. My 'bed', really quite comfortable, but even so, this morning my shoulders and hips are feeling it.
I work from the campsite end, slowly, down to the canoe. It is satisfying work, as the passage from site to canoe to site will be much easier. I no longer need a sweater on, and peel this off. Once I reach the canoe, I scour about for a good sized rock to use as an anchor. I have a fifteen foot fine strong rope, but will need a rock with some uneven jagged bits to hold the criss-crossed knotted rope.
This I find.
I loop the other end of the rope through the brass ring of the bow deck, and tying it, lift the rock into the bow.
I want to canoe out to where I was yesterday and give the anchor a test run.
I'm not sure how deep the bay is at it's deepest, but the fifteen foot rope is more than long enough thirty feet from shore. I loop and retie the knot in the brass ring. At least now I know that if I'm out drawing and writing on a windy day, I will, more or less, stay put.
*
August, 1966
I woke to a dim world. Not yet really beginning to lighten. Just enough to see that we were laid out like a row of sausage rolls, the nine of us, and although I mostly felt warm, my nose was like ice.
I was half asleep but had a sense of Ginny's gentle regular breathing, her arms holding me close to her (as much for her warmth as mine), her mouth inches from my ear. I wonder if I complained of being cold in my sleep.
I flutter back to sleep, feeling as safe as a human can feel.
Two hours later we were eating oatmeal around a blazing fire, the first light of day looking promising. Warm, and with full bellies, Ginny let us in on a plan.
What if we moved fast, (broke camp, loaded the canoes, got underway), and crammed two days of canoeing into one. What if...
She explained that we were into the (comparatively) 'easy' two days of The Loop - slightly less distance to paddle, shorter portages - but it would be a marathon. We (in spite of an early start) would be lucky to arrive much before dark. But, oh, the reward! The prime campsite of The Loop, Trout Lake.
I was half asleep but had a sense of Ginny's gentle regular breathing, her arms holding me close to her (as much for her warmth as mine), her mouth inches from my ear. I wonder if I complained of being cold in my sleep.
I flutter back to sleep, feeling as safe as a human can feel.
Two hours later we were eating oatmeal around a blazing fire, the first light of day looking promising. Warm, and with full bellies, Ginny let us in on a plan.
What if we moved fast, (broke camp, loaded the canoes, got underway), and crammed two days of canoeing into one. What if...
She explained that we were into the (comparatively) 'easy' two days of The Loop - slightly less distance to paddle, shorter portages - but it would be a marathon. We (in spite of an early start) would be lucky to arrive much before dark. But, oh, the reward! The prime campsite of The Loop, Trout Lake.
One full day ahead of schedule, we would have it for two nights, and
one long entire day
to swim and relax on the smooth slanting rocks of the Trout.
Of course, (being Ginny), this could only happen if the decision was unanimous. The 15-year-old recluse dithered, expressing some doubts. But, in the end, it was her own recollection of Trout Lake, (from her one and only previous experience of The Loop) that brought her round.
And so, we set off.
And it was a slog.
Of course, (being Ginny), this could only happen if the decision was unanimous. The 15-year-old recluse dithered, expressing some doubts. But, in the end, it was her own recollection of Trout Lake, (from her one and only previous experience of The Loop) that brought her round.
And so, we set off.
And it was a slog.
Mercifully, the weather cooperated, though cloudy (better than the full blazing sun) but still and warm. In the early afternoon, we passed Site #2, (on Firefly Lake), but kept well out in the lake, not wanting to be tempted into a reversal of plan. We took turns eating crackers and cheese, raisins and apples, and drank lake water (as one could safely do in those days).
I remember that it was at this time that I perfected the method of drinking from a paddle.
(A memory so crystal clear, it could have happened yesterday.)
Dip the whole paddle in the lake, lift the tip high, press your open mouth against the grip of the paddle, letting the trickle of water run down the edge of the paddle into your mouth.
I remember that it was at this time that I perfected the method of drinking from a paddle.
(A memory so crystal clear, it could have happened yesterday.)
Dip the whole paddle in the lake, lift the tip high, press your open mouth against the grip of the paddle, letting the trickle of water run down the edge of the paddle into your mouth.
Quickly.
We were on Trout Lake, our destination in sight, an hour before dark. Although exhausted, we were ecstatic and had a celebratory meal in the flickering campfire light - our quickest meal to prepare - hotdogs cooked on sticks, (slightly squashed) buns, and marshmallows. I found my eyes closing before the celebration ended, and Ginny was up in an instant, laying out groundsheets on the flat soft pine-needle carpet set back from the shore.
We slept long and hard.
We were on Trout Lake, our destination in sight, an hour before dark. Although exhausted, we were ecstatic and had a celebratory meal in the flickering campfire light - our quickest meal to prepare - hotdogs cooked on sticks, (slightly squashed) buns, and marshmallows. I found my eyes closing before the celebration ended, and Ginny was up in an instant, laying out groundsheets on the flat soft pine-needle carpet set back from the shore.
We slept long and hard.
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