The sun crept thru the scattered clouds, hit the trees and left the road dappled before me. The trees stood tall by the road edge, in the slim margin between pitted gravel road and lake bank. The mountain flank reared up above me, to the left. The road cut across its toes, eking out a bare necessity to allow the trucks to thinder past. Then the mountain reclaimed her base, and plunged ever steeper into the lake. It was rocky, big jagged black boulders, little ones that had broken off, equally toothy. The drop off under the water mirrored the steep hill above, leaving little that could be considered proper wading depth. As far as I knew, the bottom of this lake had never really been plumbed. Plenty deep, as the locals would say, nodding sagely.
Except the locals had by and large vanished, or at least taken to hiding every year. And the big lumber trucks didn’t pass this way much any more. I can recall as a child, being woken up by the trucks passing the cabin every hour or less. To my country softened ears, the whooshing roar was startling in the extreme.
Now, this gravel road winding along the base of the mountains, once so vital to the lumber trail, this road is quiet, and possible to walk along. At this early hour, the lake beside me is calm and quiet. The previous day, being a sunny Sunday, it was torn with pleasure boats, cut to a seething surface by boat wakes. The craft had darted all over its surface on the only sunny day in a week.
I had watched from the shore.
Today, I strolled along the shore. Monday morning, not even that early. The lake was still, not a single craft on the surface propelled along. The boats sat at anchor, bobbing in the water. The occasional bird flitted out from the trees, to skim the surface of the water before swooping back up in acrobatics to make the land bound envy.
The dogs trotted out before me, ranging back and forth on the road, seeking the elusive scents on the breeze. A squirrel chittered angrily, and both dogs dashed in to the trees. I paced along the worn gravel road, the rocks all long flung off. A rotted tree jutted out of the water nearby, pointing at the mountain top. An eagle or hawk of a great size soared out above my head. The jingle of the dogs collar heralded their return, and they trotted past me, scouting the way.
I took a deep breath of muggy air, and smiled. Just another lousy day in paradise.
Wherever you are, Be There 