On the River

It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful 70 degree, sunny weekend mulling over what to do now that my new boat wasn’t coming, so off in the Terrapin I went to circumnavigate Ross Island, my habitual boating place.

I don’t have much to say about motorboats under normal circumstances, but something about Transition caught my eye.  From a distance it was the sharky shape of the bow emerging from the water.  While far more stout and powerful a boat than is necessary on the Willamette, it sat peacefully at anchor with a solitary woman reading on deck, doing something most stink-potters fail to do: sit still and enjoy a scene long enough to remember it.

In her own 30 feet of peace, completely oblivious to me and most of the rest of the river, the woman read on and on as I drifted by and sketched the boat.  Then I rowed back upstream, revised a few details, and repeated the process two or three more times.

Meanwhile, three guys, strangely dressed for winter, coasted by in a 10 foot aluminum skiff.  It looked like they were having a good time too.

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