25 July 2009


I am sitting on a huge worn log, what remains of a retaining wall here at an old logging camp, looking out at a near relation of Hood Canal, a northwest fjord of depth and beauty. I think that my lips are sunburned for the weather is continuing to follow a fair and sunny pattern, though the wind against us today brought up old bad memories of why I dislike kayaking. However, we soldiered through it and traveled eight miles south to a camp where we could practice wet exits in a calm and protected environment. The wind is dying now as the land begins to cool for the evening and the calm seems to have fallen over land and sea kayakers alike. A fire has been lit behind me and birds call to each other across the still air, the sunlight sending last rays of hazy sweetness streaming through the marches of steep hills across from me. Ghee rice and lentils tonight. I have promised to try to teach my cook group more and to do less for them, a legit complaint. Wildlife today: an otter who found us as curious as we found it, and a doe and fawn on the water's edge attending to some secert task that only they know. To see the sea-edge grass set against these rotting pilings, softly nodding tufted heads is a type of music made solid. Salal grows here, and blackberry and salmonberry, but it is the wrong season for them all. I try not to share too much and to relax into being a member of the group and in most times, I succeed. I do not know how sore I will be tomorrow, yet. I had forgotten that exquisite moment of panic that arrives when yu realize that you are stuck upside down in the water and the agonizing second before remembering the way out of this mess. I hope for a solid night's sleep tonight and a french braid in the morning.

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