in the realm of the fictionman

Vacation Journal, Part III

A bit before sunrise, Wednesday
Almost too dark to write. The solar-recharging lamp is going outside, but it's wet, and I don't actually need it. Nick woke briefly just now and offered a batteried flourescent, which I declined. He's back in bed, I obviously chose to stay up. The hummingbirds are, too.

There is less difference 'tween day and night than I expected. It's 40 degrees outside, not that different than the 48-50 we ran all day yesterday.

Between boat problems and weather challenges, the fish total is four or five, although only two came back for cleaning. There are walleye that become food, and bass and Northern that get released.

Now is one of those quiet times again. Except when I was cooking yesterday, it's been a rare happenstance that I've been alone in the cabin for any length of time. I'm rather aware of the noise of this pen, which is a noise I'm not accustomed to. I use this pen often at work, and was never aware of hearing it there. It could also be the paper, which is more of a composition book.

The jambalaya turned out very well. Big hit with many compliments. Nick told me that he has had a log of good jambalaya, and this was good. I felt proud already, but his saying that felt very good. One of those humble wow moments.

The reflection of the riverbank (400? 500 yards?) in the glassy water is very cool. The river itself is a strange thing. It flows northwest, but you can only tell that at night. The winds blow eastward, so during the day the top of the river goes the wrong way. The wind goes away at night, and things that drifted by in the day now come back.

The wind may be the most pronounced change between day and night. At night there for the most part is none.

5:15 am
Much lighter now. Fog rising some on the river like steam. The sun is lighting up clouds and patches of blue behind them. Retreated into the sleeping bag briefly—cold. 59 degrees in the cabin.

Mid-morning
Warmer today. We got a smaller motor on one boat, so now we have three good enough for fishing. Nick & Chad and Bill & Mark are out. I'll probably go out with one group or another after they come back for lunch. It's reading time here at the cabin. I took eight or ten pictures; we'll see how they turn out.

Afternoon, 44 degrees
What usually takes effort comes easily to me here, and the river lets her voice be heard. I think I know now the ceremony to ask the river and sky to favor us. I know how it would sound, yet I do believe it. But all who would fish would need to partake in the ceremony, and I know that most would not. The river knows this as well. The river is unhappy, and the rain does as she asks. I will not change the weather only for myself. This at least the sky and wind and rain accept, and when explained my intent, the rain paused while I walked back. It fell again in earnest as the door closed, and continues to do so.

The rest are all asleep. I would probably not have even asked had anyone been awake. They would not understand. Dad more likely might, but even of that I am not sure.

Evening, not yet 8:00, 40 degrees
Dinner is running late. Probably 8:00 for Mark's chili. Wildlife seen so far (at or around the island): skeeters, gulls, hummingbirds (ruby-throated and another kind), pelicans, Canadian Jays, crows, skeeters, dragonflies, skeeters, some bright red wood ticks [chiggers], bald eagles, skeeters, some finch-like brown bird with white speckles, walleye/northern/bass/crappie, loons [Common and one other unidentified species], ducks of uncertain types, bees, beavers, and skeeters.