Boating stepped aside this summer as we traveled further afar than our own waters. "Surely," we thought, "we'll get out on the boat a few times."
Nothing much happens if it's not planned for, so we penciled in a date. The weather cooperated beautifully and we spent two nights on the water. In the above photo, Mount Baker, in Washington State, rises tall into the clouds.
Our view from our anchorage in Princess Bay, off Portland Island. As the light faded into darkness, one single shooting star fizzled off the the bow.
Saturday morning, after a hearty breakfast, we set out to walk around the island. Three hours and about 6.5 kilometres later we arrived back at the dock.
Recent rains have brought a little more green to our area, but there's no mistaking the coming season.
The mere act of getting on the boat and anchoring just an hour away from home is the most relaxing thing I know. It's as if when we pull away from the dock we leave lists, lesson plans, worries, and the "shoulds" of every day life behind.
A branch of dry Garry Oak leaves arches over the water. September skies are bluest of all the months, I believe, and that deep colour is intensified in the water.
Plenty of wild things crossed our path, on both water and land. A family of raccoons clambered over an old apple tree, a lithe river otter slipped out of sight into a pile of driftwood on the beach, gulls flapped, and cormorants spread their wings to dry on the rocks. Two white swans glided by the boat near shore, and in the deepest water black fins sliced upwards and curved quickly down.
Home again this afternoon, with sunlight sparkling on the water and mellow light filtering through trees just beginning to change colour.
A new week lies ahead, filled with meetings, students, lessons and the unknown good and not-so-good.
Linking with Maggie who hosts Mosaic Monday, on her Normandy Life blog.