Moon Tracks

A wavery moonlit path stretched ahead, drawing me along, like I had been put under a spell. I couldn’t turn around! The evening was so warm and summery, but the lure was the light: Tiny wavelets fractured the moon, the glowstick drew the bow, the fireflies twinkled to the top of the huge fir trees, the moon snuck through the branches, a light spray of stars, bioluminescence slipped off the paddle, the land flew by.
Facts: Full moon July 11. High tide at 11:42 p.m. Tide height ten feet.
I followed the moonlight path to high, fir-covered Hog Island, then around the island, to the dark side. The 17th Century Choate house was shrouded in darkness, its colonial ghosts busy elsewhere. The weekend guest cottage was empty, no one swinging from the hammock. The cabin cruisers on the inner beach, dark.
I stepped up the paddle cadence, and booked, pausing at the empty osprey nest to see if anyone had moved in since my last visit. No. I paddled by Gravelly island, cairns nearly under water, then swung down the Hay Canal. At the landing, I slipped on the wheels and pulled the kayak out, rumbled down the road, up the driveway, and to a sleeping house. It was midnight!
Do you have a place where you have lived and kayaked for more than 20 years and NEVER paddled under a full moon? Then you should change that. The next full moon is Aug. 10, high tide around midnight. See you there.