Aaltoe’s Blog

Dusk.

In silence. 

A gentle push away from the dock.

Seeming to drift backward,

But now with direction. 

Then forward,

Pushing my body gently back.

Underway

The journey has begun,

As has my awareness of what its building blocks may be.

Eyes shift in anticipation.

Speed and noise increase,

As does brightness in the east above the distant mountains.

The waves lap against the hull,

The air against my face.

The immense volume of the sky opens. 

Moving toward and moving away,

Scenes change left and right,

The places I’m in change,

Sometimes rapidly as land and islands move closer, then farther,

And sometimes slowly with more expansive and stable views.

The highlights in the sky move west.

The sun disappears.

Twilight envelopes all.

I slow Pegasus to stillness and silence.

Time to return,

To follow, as it happens, the light in the sky.

Pegasus can’t keep up with the shift of light.

It spreads along the western horizon,

And, after a brief celebration in brightness,

Becomes a half glow that no longer illuminates the landscape.

The lake becomes dark

Landmarks lose their familiarity,

Orientation becomes more difficult,

Light buoys are friendly companions

If only I could remember exactly which each was.

And the shape of the land against the sky,

An imprecise guide.

A weak flashlight, scarcely better than none.

Yet somehow I find myself near Mooney Point.

Uncertainties fade into secure known places.

Pegasus is now at her dock.

Pegasus is on the lake about the same time as her namesake, the constellation, is in the sky.  She is a twenty six foot launch, now with an electric motor. At slow speeds she is silent; faster, still quiet.  The lake reveals itself through the lapping of water against the hull, through the breeze with its distinctive scents and feel against your face, through the sounds of wind in nearby trees and from more distant waves, and from the occasional disjointed chorus of loons, gulls and other birds. Slowing, one can study a loon cleaning its feathers and then disappearing in a sudden dive, the cormorant hanging its wings to dry, the eagle menacing with too low a flight. The sky reveals the silent dance of the clouds in a rhythm and speed different from yours. Other boats intrude but at dusk there are few, and, at a distance, they, too, are quiet.  With the lake so present, conversation in the boat can be sporadic—a warm episode of exchange followed by silent reflection and warm exchange with the lake.