Drifting

A steady breeze from the Northeast eased my kayak along. I'd paddled out far enough from the island to catch the wind. Occasionally it was necessary to paddle a bit to keep from getting too far from land. The water is clearer here than I remember. The bottom slid by, every feature visible. The fish, the birds and me, all moving along.

When the end of the island came in sight, I paddled towards shore. By staying close to shore, most of the wind was blocked and I could paddle back to the campsite. That was pretty much my day. After that it was lying around in the sun, reading a good book.

Apparently the world kept turning just fine without me. Nothing too profound about that, but sometimes it's nice to not be too important. Responsibilities are on hold for the duration.

Of course, it's not really paradise. Late at night the paving crew was hard at work. There were times when the sound of heavy equipment drowned out the lapping of the waves. Not for long, but long enough. Then there are rats. Most people camping here don't even know these islands are infested with them. That's pretty much the nature of warm islands everywhere. Our dog, true to the terrier part of her genes, wants to catch them badly. Had her leash been longer, she probably would have. Then there are the occasional biting insects.

But guess what? I'm still happy to be here. The work crews shut down. The rats keep their distance and we are careful with our food and trash. A little insect repellent keeps the bugs at bay. Beats the heck out of freezing. I'll take a real island over some mythical paradise any day.

-Sixbears