paddle adventure

On one of the last days of vacation P and I went for a kayak ride, each in our own boat.  P can really paddle I'll tell you.  We took off from FIL's marsh and dock using his boats.  I found a bottle floating in his marsh and retrieved it.  I think that Arthur had recently passed through, forcing us inland as the eye of the storm passed directly over-head overnight at the beach.  I collected the bottle and was applauded by a few on-lookers on what appeared to be a very dreamy gazebo type dock outside their trailer, in the trailer park.  We boated out to a deserted island.  Neither of us got swamped en-route by passing wake-board caliber boats or hotshots otherwise.  There was very little beach there on the island-- just a few feet wide, then there was some marsh land on the other side.  Beach as berm (or berm as beach, really).  The marsh was quite scuzzy; still water; but the beach was pristine on the sound side.  We picked up some trash and checked out the shells (to be a jeweler on such a beach would really be something) and weighed the merits of skinny dipping in the middle of the day.  Just then a huge boat blasting music full of drunk red fat rednecks blasted upon the beach, cigarette butts spewing over-board and smells wafting.  I crafted a joke in my mind about being sea-blocked in my quest to skinny dip in the middle of the day.  But red-necks will always have the last laugh.

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