Happy Father’s Day!
| Sunday, June 21, 1998. So there I was, at 8 A.M., launching my kayak from Preston Beach in Marblehead, Massachusetts. It was foggy to say the least, but the air was warm, and the water was warm, too. After I got my fly rod straightened out (it was ungodly screwed up from the launch) I started casting around in the fog and incoming tide. Before long, I had a schooly (that’s a small striper) on the line and, after a gentle battle, I landed the little fish. This time of year they still have their winter colors, greens and blues, but as the water warms they became grayer and browner. They are always beautiful, but I love the cold water colors. As I worked my way around Little’s Point, across Devereux Beach, and around the Neck, an interesting thing occurred. I was casting in the surge, and when I say “in,” I mean really “in” it. A kayak, with an experienced paddler is very seaworthy even though it may look tippy and unstable. So I enjoy casting in the roilingl surge around the rocks where the waves hit and return. At times, the spray from the rocks was pelting me and my kayak like sheets of down pouring rain. It made me laugh, it was so immersing and involving … and the fish were biting. If someone saw me from out to sea they might think I was in trouble. In fact I was in heaven, fighting the surf, fishing and getting soaked. After a half hour or so of that, I resumed paddling along, now trolling my fly line. As I rounded a point of rocks, I suddenly entered a field of sea foam, perhaps two or three acres in size. Now, I was paddling through this beautiful, clean white foam, perhaps two and a half feet high. The entire kayak was hidden under the foam and was up to my chest and shoulders, up to my neck at times. This really made me laugh. The ocean was being very generous today with its experiences. I wished each of you could have been there with me. I couldn’t photograph it, because my camera was in the cockpit dry sack, and out of reach. under the foam. To get it out would have risked getting it very, very wet. (After all what is sea foam?… just seawater whipped up.) So, you’ll have to take my word for it. The foam was so thick that my kayak actually left a clean streak behind which stayed for a while; like a finger through whipped cream. I tried to write “love,” in it, paddling out the letters, but kayaks turned widely so I could never see the whole thing. Imagine someone flying overhead, seeing a lone kayaker paddling out “love” in a field of sea foam on a foggy morning in June. Only the seagulls and the stripers were there for witnesses. After that I continued on the way, fishing, paddling, laughing in the fog for a total of seven hours on Father’s Day. Then I watched the US Open, and had a T-bone for dinner. Hope one of your Father’s Day will be as good. It doesn’t take a lot to make us happy, it just takes is just some understanding, some serendipity, a little gentleness beneath your honesty, as Paul Simon says. A kayak and a spirit of adventure doesn’t hurt either. |