With the horrific events of the past week, I think we could all do with a little bit of peace in our lives, so I am sharing my kayak trip of last evening. This is part 1 of 2. If you like this and want to not disrupt your peaceful thoughts, don't read part 2, which isn't as closely paddling related as this part. Last evening after work, Chris and Jan and I met at the shell beach by the T/S Texas Clipper here on the Pelican Island campus of Texas A&M University at Galveston. Fortunately for the start of the trip, my dire prediction of clouds of blood-thirsty mosquitoes failed to materialize and the few at the start buzzed off as we moved over the waters of Galveston Bay. Chris and I got there first and took it as a good omen that there were a large number of dolphins feeding in the outgoing tidal current at our starting point to the west of the Pelican Island causeway. One pair, presumed to be a mother and calf, surfaced repeatedly in perfect unison. What made the dolphins active must have attracted the brown pelicans too and the huge birds dived in the same area. Chris practiced retro-cooling perfect rolls. I didn't tell him until later that the deep waters dredged around the Clipper are reputed to be very attractive to large sharks as well - but hopefully they were partaking of the same bounty as the pelicans and dolphins and we saw no signs of their presence. There was little wave action at the put-in, and we were surprised to find that also as we paddled under the causeway into the open waters of Galveston Bay. The shadows were getting longer as days grow shorter and very few clouds dotted the sky. With little wind, few waves, and not much of a current it was truly peaceful out there. The hum of that kind of silence seemed almost unnatural and we realized part of that was the absence of aircraft, anywhere on the horizon. Unusual for the busy airspace around Houston/Galveston. In all of our paddle, only one plane flew overhead, an F-something military jet at low altitude, also unusually quiet. Our mission, other than just paddling relaxation, was to accompany Jan on her specimen-collecting trip for a graduate level invertebrate critters class. We could have hardly had a better setting although a lower tide would have made her job easier. We all marvelled at the tranquil conditions and the bright clarity of the day. The apex of our out-and-back trip was a sandy beach along the Intracoastal Waterway cut at the northern tip of Pelican Island. Last time Chris and I were out there, it was just covered up in adult and juvenile brown pelicans. There were a lot fewer this time. I was amused at a clicque of juvenile gulls sitting about 30' from where Jan was doing her collecting, and where I had run my kayak onto the sand. They were giving us what-for tongue lashing, raucous talking and laughing (hey, good chance these are laughing gulls, so what kind of talk would you expect). I could imagine them saying to each other "ha, ha, look at those silly humans", "hey, look at that one digging in the sand", "ya think she's finding anything good to eat?", "ha ha, ha ha". What Jan was collecting was in fact worms burrowing in the sand, but we weren't sharing any with those gulls. She did a second collection around the corner from the first site and this time the object of my birdwatching was a huge pelican teetering in a tree again not very far from her. It's lovely to be so close to see the agility and flexibility of those long pelican necks. The bird twisted its head left and right, between Jan and Chris. I could almost see it thinking and it shortly decided this was not safe sport and spread those long wings to dip between us and head out over the water. The beautiful conditions took on the hue of sunset over our right shoulders as we headed back to campus. In the distance the Galveston causeway divided the pastel sky from the pastel water. I wondered how the artist Bernardo Bellotto, whose work I had admired up close the previous weekend, might have painted it. His 18th century oils have a strong sense of light - he'd have enjoyed the effects of our Texas sunset. Jan and Chris in their white kayaks cast mirror reflections on the quiet waters. As we remarked on the beauty of the day, we enjoyed a last atmospheric tribute to the actions of the last week. The sun became a fiery red ball, half hidden by a distant thunderhead, tinged with gold and orange on its edges. We were reminded that not all is right in the world, but there is some sense of peace to be found on the water. Peace, brothers and sisters, and thanks for coming along for the ride. Natalie Wiest Galveston, Texas *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
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