On the Water, Sans Chien

Your Boulevardier, accompanied by longtime friend Mr. R., forwent the Boulevard this morning and took to the water.

Specifically, we rented kayaks and toured Lake Chabot. Mr. R. had suggested the activity in a phone conversation earlier in the week; he had recently gone paddling with his daughter and enjoyed it. He also mentioned that Wednesdays were half-price days, which was an inducement for both he and I, self-employed persons that we are.

We met at the boat house at 6:00 a.m. Mr. R. was well-dressed for the occasion, especially his floppy Austrialian-style expedition hat. Your Boulevardier may have run a distant second in the _exposition de mode,_ but fortunately I had remembered to bring gloves and a leash for the sunglasses. We did some simple paperwork and moved to the dock, where a young man named Jeremiah set us up. We chose our life jackets and one-person kayaks -- Your Boulevardier's a three-color green-white-blue number that looked like it would be at home in the ocean surf, and Mr. R. a teal craft.

Getting into the craft may have been the biggest challenge of the day (second only, perhaps, to disembarking). Once we were underway paddling, we felt free and easy as loons. A light breeze rippled the water, but not enough to add effort to our paddling. A low mist, maybe four feet tall, rested on much of the lake. As we paddled, the sun broke through the morning clouds and bathed the valley in warm beams. It was a glorious, peaceful experience. (Mr. R., a professional photographer and filmmaker, continually remarked on the "shots" he was missing.)

We circled to the east side of the lake's only island, then made our way to the dam. We passed a few fishermen, some trolling in aluminum boats, others casting from shore. One fish, I believe a trout, appearing to be a good 18 inches long, jumped ahead of us. Waterfowl, including cormorants, ducks, geese, and herons, flew and swam. Near the dam we spotted a few herons high in trees. Perhaps a rookery? We talked quietly about the challenges of work and life. The topics may have been stressful, but the steady exercise and the peaceful setting lifted our tension.

As we turned to return to the boathouse, the sun's intensity increased. Beams cut a bright, straight line across the vapor and water a quarter mile ahead of us, looking for for a brief moment like we were paddling toward a rendezvous with waterfall. We struggled to find words powerful enough to describe it, and eventually agreed, without saying so, to finish our paddle in silence. As we neared the boathouse, a fisherwoman heading out in an aluminum boat commented that we had gotten our exercise for the day. "Yes, we're feeling virtuous," was Your Boulevardier's only response.

Jeremiah met us at the dock and helped us to disembark. (Truth be told, Mr. R. needed no assistance.) I noted Jeremiah's Batman T-shirt, and asked if he had attended the midnight screening at the Chabot Cinema the night before. "Yeah, that's why I'm so tired this morning," he responded with a slight grin. "But it was awesome."

Well put, Jeremiah. Awesome is also the right word to describe an early morning paddle on the lake.