Nov 12 2010
A Watery Perspective
Every once in a while, I turn away from the woods and head the opposite direction, making for Lake Champlain. It’s only a ten-minute drive away from my house, remarkably enough. Sometimes what I need is the long view to clear my head – a watery perspective – not the comfort of trees. In that regard, the lake never disappoints.
Kill Kare State Park is a day use area only a quarter mile square, located on the very tip of Hathaway Point. I frequent it during the colder months, when the park is officially closed, when there’s no one around to tell me that my dog isn’t allowed. There is plenty of open space to throw a ball for my ball-crazy companion, Matika, and a bench where I can sit and gaze across the lake when it’s time to take a break.
The park itself is manicured and very tame, but the lake has an elemental wildness to it that is clearly apparent whenever a bone-chilling wind blows out of the north. The sky is usually busy with clouds, water breaks relentlessly against the rocks, and islands lead my eyes towards the far shore – away from the here/now and towards grand undertakings both past and future.
As I sit on the lake’s edge, I remember Adirondack hikes, a trip to the watery wilds of southeast Alaska, a Maine kayak adventure, and countless other excursions. I think about how much my life has changed since I first set eyes on this lake, and how different things will be a decade or two from now. Different yet fundamentally the same – just like this lake endlessly lapping to shore. No doubt about it: time is relative. Water proves that.
Sometimes I sit for half an hour. Sometimes only a few minutes. Much depends upon how hard the wind is blowing. But one thing remains constant: the great calm within when I walk away from the lake, fortifying me for another round of literary work or busy-ness. Whatever thoughts weighed heavily upon me when I parked my car and walked out here are suddenly much more manageable. I am ready for the next challenge. Large bodies of water are like that. They suck the smallness and worry right out of us. And that’s why it is good to live close to one.
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