I know. We should probably stay off the water when the fog is thick. But it was very early, on a cold September morning, and no one else was out on the water. Our kayaks are neon orange and bright yellow. Steve was wearing his blaze orange cap. I was wearing my most amazed expressions and muttering inanities like “it’s so beautiful, I can’t believe it’s so beautiful.” I think we were safe. Safe enough. If you constantly fret about safe you’re going to miss a lot of incredible.
This past Saturday, early in the morning, the fog was just beginning to thin when we headed out to Ghost Bay. The light was filtered through the fog remains and everything was looking very golden. There was no breeze. Like so many fall mornings, there were no other boats or paddlers on the lake. Not even the fisherman turned up until later in the day. We shared the lake with an osprey. A gull snatched a fish from Ghost Bay. We startled three small ducks. Small fish moved about in their usual schools in their usual places. Moose the black Labradoodle who lives in the red house greeted us coming and going. In attendance was his never-far-behind companion, the chubby Beagle whose name we do not know. On the water of Ghost Bay was the best place to be, drinking our morning cups of coffee. In a very few weeks we’ll have to pack up the kayaks, but these last paddles of the season are so sweet.