Sunday, August 28, 2005

Today's Plans...Gone Awry

Well, fuck the forecasters.

They said it was supposed to rain all day, so I had planned on painting the living room of my new house today. Just bought all that fine fine modern shit to fill it up, and the white walls just ain't doing it justice. So I was gonna splash on some serious Sage and Red Ochre to give it some class.

But, then, God be Praised, the clouds parted.

Last night, I received a call (a message, actually, as I was OUT. Perhaps you will hear about that later, if you get to know me).

"Jason," he started, "Drew here. Let's get the boats out on Sunday. We can try to get up the Gunpowder."

'Course, I would always love to paddle. But I have been away/busy so much this summer, I needed a weekend to catch up on SHIT. And painting my living room happens to be shit.

But then, guess the fuck what, the sun shone, and brightly.

The clouds did, indeed, part, just like that. And, suddently, it was 85 and gorgeous. I called Drew. He drove over, his kayak already lashed to the top of his Jeep. We threw my 14.5ft Yellow Banana atop, strapped er down. We were on our way.

"Figured I'd see you today," he grinned. He punched at the dash and some old Jimmy blared loud (A1A - Gawd Bless It), and we turned down Rt 40 to the Bay.

We put in at a small tributary to the Chesapeake. The Bay is wonderful in the number of entries it has - creeks and rivers and wallows and runs and trickles unnamed. We paddled up this one, a feeder to the Gunpowder.

We followed a field of seagrasses, turned up a cut in them, and that was the Little Gunpowder. The river turned to a stream turned to a creek.

The wren and the goldfinch and the Eastern blue danced about us, played, did kamikazi-like dives, some splashing in for a meal. The grasses rose about us. the water gave way to mud. We threaded the weaving water's path into mud. Dragonflies, butterfiles, jellyfish in the mud.

Ugh.

Get me out.

I love kayaking. I love being so close to the water, inthe water even. I love that you can get to placed that no other vessel can (BIG BOATS SUCK! At least until I buy my big sailboat ;-))

The water was smooth on the way back up the Gunpowder. We paddled past terns and loons shrieking and Canada Geese overhead, wining it impossibly to the South.

Why am I done? Why do I need to go home?

Alone. I am alone out here. Drew is a friend, but not someone to deeply share it with.

I need some one who can also see the Face of God in the shifting of the Bay.

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