I joined my good friend Capt. Ron at a local lake one evening after work recently for a sunset paddle, just as the weekly regatta was getting underway. We found ourselves bobbing around the starting line, generally in the way as the local boys fussed with their gin and gennys. It was interesting to see fifteen or so sailboats maneuvering for position in this narrow channel, then sailing off for glory while we nibbled on raisins and ginger-spiced fruit, a delicious combination Ron had prepared that afternoon. The ginger lets you know it is there. It’s sad that on a perfect breezy evening, with a beautiful sunset overhead, most of the boats came right back to the marina right after the race. We surmised from the more vocal crews that everyone wasn’t thrilled with the results.

It was interesting to see fifteen or so sailboats maneuvering for position in this narrow channel, then sailing off for glory while we nibbled on raisins and ginger-spiced fruit

We continued exploring up creeks and along shorelines. We floated over an old paved roadbed just inches below the kayaks, a very strange feeling. The sun was low and golden, the way it gets on Sunday afternoons when it can beam right through your house, exposing dust and dulling colors. Inside, that kind of light can be tiring, almost depressing, but outside it illuminates the tops of the trees and waves with a warm glow while the sky turns a rich blue, the complementary colors balancing perfectly as designed.

Ron was catching young largemouths and grannies with his lime green Tweety Bird rod-n-reel as I trolled a jelly worm I had cut out of a tree and tied to a driftwood branch. At the moment I tied the line to that cedar branch, I regressed to being a kid for a while, reminding me of a Twilight Zone episode where the old folks play kick the can and become young again. Warm thoughts from my childhood drifted back; fishing in this very cove with my dad in a tiny inflatable yellow rubber raft. I had a new Zebco 202 (we didn’t have cartoon reels then), and we paddled out using snap-together oars. That kind of feeling, that joy is what messing is all about when you break it down.

Ron was catching young largemouths and grannies with his lime green Tweety Bird rod-n-reel as I trolled a jelly worm I had cut out of a tree and tied to a driftwood branch.

All too soon, the sun yawned and rolled over, age returned, and so did our appetites. As we paddled back to the ramp, we spoke of family, friends, God, boats and other messes to come. After loading the kayaks on Ron’s homemade PVC roof rack, we traded some goodies to mark the occasion. Ron gave me a bird hunting vest and I gave him some chestnuts that had just fallen at the house (we are both trying to find some suitable way to prepare them).

I first met Ron after answering an ad for a sail rig on the Duckworks Classified, and ended up with more than a rig. I found a great friend, mentor and “messer” who encourages me to chase after my dreams (mainly boat projects)… quickly. May his tribe increase.

I found a great friend, mentor and “messer” who encourages me to chase after my dreams (mainly boat projects like this Bolger Nymph)… quickly.

You know, it’s amazing how a few hours with a friend and a boat on the water in the middle of a work week can lift your spirits. As I drove home later that evening, I realized that I had just done the same things that I normally wait for months to do on “vacation”, making me seriously think about removing that misused word from my vocabulary. We tend to think that vacations are something bestowed on us by employers once or twice a year, when actually they can be disguised as a sunset, a boat dock or a Tweety Bird rod-n-reel.