Soon I will be afloat gliding across the surface of my own lake or a nearby lake just the soft gurgle of the bow pushing through water the side to side rocking with each dip and thrust of kayak paddle sitting down low in the bottom of a mere 16 pounds of epoxy over kevlar sheeting on a firm contoured foam pad the hull translucent in the right light the line of pushed-aside water visible my feet centered on foot-pegs so when I pull with my left arm my right leg pushes back then again the other way I find a steady rhythm work to use the large muscles of my lower back of my thighs and quads letting my arms follow along and all these muscles not used much yet this year so taking it easy not reaching the blade too far forward not digging down too deep into the water finding just enough resistance so each motion feels effortless as if the lake surface itself were pulling me along like a big smooth-glassy conveyor belt then to stop and lean far back look straight up at the clouds my momentum carrying me forward the whole of the spinning earth slipping away beneath me balanced here on its perfect surface.
At my feet and sides my fly rod balanced against a cedar thwart the fly still in the small stainless loop at the juncture of rod shaft and cork grip a few boxes of flies a water bottle an old towel the fly line looped there in big curls that shouldn’t snag should I see a fish break nearby and check my motion hard with one blade then the other take up the rod and start the casting motion that has become so natural now rod tip stopping at 2 o’clock then again at 10 the line checked letting its own momentum push it out and away in a long tight loop like a candy cane unfurling in the sky the fly landing where I’m looking right in the ring of the rise as if by magic my 9 foot wand waved the abracadabra of my cast the last snap of the monofilament tippet straightened the fly just there conjured up from thin air the fish turning and taking as if it were real and I am holding on in direct contact again with the alive all around me world.
At the takeout the portage yoke screwed back in place the halves of my rod and the halves of the paddle blades separated secured to the bottoms of the thwarts my boat bag slung across my chest PFD tucked in behind the seat I’ll lift the barely there at all boat up above me settle the yoke down along the back of my neck find the balance point one hand lightly cradling the oiled cedar gunwale and start the hike out taking each twist and turn of the trail slowly so as not to bang bow or stern against broken jagged pine boughs lost in the echoey insides of the upside down canoe overhead all I need here to take me far back deep into the center of things.
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Lovely.