Dear Reader,
This morning we woke early after another night of pissing in a cup in the tent to avoid the swarm of mosquitoes plastered to the underside of our tent’s rain fly. By 7:45 we were on the water, hoping to beat the worst of the day’s predicted high winds with gusts as high as 30 mph.
Our goal was just to reach our intended camp for last night, Piney Point, six nautical miles away if we paddled in a straight line. But in wind and around landforms you seldom paddle in a straight line.
The wind, for a change, began at our back and we happily flew along at 4 knots and up, although it still takes a lot of energy and concentration to stay upright when the waves are coming from behind. And the rain clouds are building and looming and dumping all around you.
It was a more languid, rolling sort of focus than yesterday so I found my morning’s chant to be an over and over again repetition of my daily prayer, which goes like this:
“Thank you Lord for this new day and for all that I will experience. For the sun and the rain and the sky above my head. I will stretch into change. I will stretch into new relationships. I will stay close to the earth. I will stay close to myself. And I will stay close to you. Thank you Lord for this new day.”
It was a good day to be reminded to be grateful for the rain. For the new experiences, good and bad. To stretch into paddling with a following sea and not mind that when the waves come from behind I can’t actually see them coming. And I can only react as I see Miss Pink lift and surf below me. I threw in a few low braces. And said thank you thank you thank you when the black clouds skirted around us.
We arrived at Piney Point after just a couple of hours paddling. We didn’t take a break. We just wanted to get to camp before the seas really picked up, and we did.
We set up the tent, as well as the tarp for rain protection and shade. And John set off in search of driftwood to create a cooking platform raised out of the sand. I see him pick up a log, drop it and then race to the water’s edge frantically wiping his hands and then his legs. He’d found ants, no doubt, poor thing. And nothing that would serve as kitchen furniture. He still managed to cook up pork chops, bought in Panama City, frozen while we were aboard the boat, and kept chilled in a small, fabric NRS cooler we brought along.
Tomorrow we’re hoping for another early start. We have East Bay, another large exposed body of water to cross (with more wind predicted), and then a smaller one, before we enter our next protected intracoastal waterway (aka ICW and ditch).
We are alive.
We are healthy.
We are adventurers.
Goodnight!
Cheers, Susana
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