I spent an entire week in one of the most divine places on earth, coastal Maine, but I hadn’t yet found that one satisfying picture that sums up everything I feel about the sublimity of being on the water when it is a mirror until the very last day, in the final hour I had in my kayak. A humble row boat beckoned from the stillness, made worthy by aligning with the far horizon in glass-like water that reflected the sky. It was to be the last photo I made there, and looking back, the most fitting.
That was before I glided one last loop towards Middle Bay, before the pair of immature black guillemots dove beneath my boat, before I spotted the bald eagle scrutinizing Casco Bay from high atop a white pine on Barnes Island, before I rounded the tip of the island to head into the wind and the tide and the looming Atlantic Ocean.
Any of those moments might have deserved a photograph had my camera been ready, but it was tucked safely in its dry bag, and those experiences must survive only in my memory. Seeing my final shot of the final day serves as a reminder of what was to come, and offers me some wisdom. The most unexpected things are the ones that bring the most satisfaction, whether captured in my camera or in my mind. ♣
When I’m not kayaking, I’m writing:
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