I love the feeling that I get as the sleek canoe glides over the glistening surface. The hiss of the bow, as it slices through the water, forcing it aside with each powerful stroke of the paddle. I love that incredible feeling that I get of being in complete control. I alone determine where it takes me. The solitude and silence of the early morning air combine to give me a peace, a calm if you will that I find only when I am in that world. It is a feeling of truly being free.
As is my habit, I was on the lake early that morning, while the morning fog still hovered over the water and the air was still and quiet. The only sound that I made was a slight splash as I stepped into my magic carpet and pushed free of the sandy beach near my home. The paddle dipped silently into the dark water, then moved back and outward, the drips of the water falling from the paddle as I raised it to take another stroke, a trail of tiny bubbles on the surface being the only evidence that I was there.
For almost thirteen years, I've been making this journey frequently, sometimes twice a week in the warm spring and summer days. I wait anxiously for the ice to melt and the spring sun to begin warming the soil and the waters. At one time, my aunt and uncle owned Pelican Island, one of the three islands in Lake Ocachawa. I spent summers there as a child, bathing in the clear waters, collecting bright colored stones and pale shells to make pictures in the sand. I still have a key to the cottage that sits empty and unused in the center of the island. The state bought all three islands almost seven years ago and abandoned all of the homes. Pelican is the least used of the three, mainly because the beach is very small and dotted with growths of brush and the island itself is quite rough and overgrown with brush and trees.
That is the very reason that I go there. I like solitude when I read and I can tan completely nude on Pelican because I'm one of the few people that are even aware of the area that we call the "Captain's Cove." It's hard to get to and almost invisible from the water due to a heavy growth of brush that shields it from outside. While it is possible to beach a canoe at the waters edge, the brush and shrubs make it a real challenge most of the time. The only other way there is to slide through something that the locals call "the tubes." Over the years, storm driven waves and torrential rains have lashed out at the island. On the West side, the winds have whipped the lake into high peaks and then blown the spray against a thick stand of pine. The result is that the water has eroded the soil out from some unsheltered areas, creating holes between the roots.
Hollow tubes or tunnels, go through the roots and then turn to the lake where the sand has been deposited, creating very narrow strips of soft sand that lie between the many stands of brush along the shore. From the water, you only see the brush and the trees that stand above. When you slide down through one of the tubes, you come out on one of the three or four sand strips behind the brush. It's very private and in the summer, the sun warms your body and the warmth reflects off of the sand, giving you a beautiful all-over tan if that's what you want.
I circled the area to be sure that no one was any where close to my landing spot because I didn't want to tell them where I was. Aiming the bow at the clump of shrubs, I took two strong strokes, aiming at a clump of shrubs. It would have appeared to anyone that didn't know, that I was going to go crashing right into them. However, as I passed the first group of shrubs, I used my paddle as a rudder and turned sharply to the left, sliding behind them. Then the paddle dove deep into the water to get maximum speed as I ran the canoe up on the beach. The warm sand felt good on my bare feet as I dragged the canoe into the brush. I had purchased the darkest color canoe that I could find just so it would be easily concealed there.
All of my days supplies were in a back pack in the bow of the canoe except for my blanket, which I sat on as I paddled over. The blanket was spread out on the warm sand and my Walkman and cooler were set up nearby. Instead of a beach umbrella, I had a tan canvas dining fly which almost exactly matched the color of the sand in the background. It was small so it took no time at all to set up or take down. The last things out of the pack were my suntan lotion, baby oil, insect repellant, and some gum to keep my mouth moist. There also was a very skimpy bikini just in case I needed to cover up quickly.
It was going to be a spectacular day. The water was calm and beginning to warm and the sun was just right for a good tan. Once I was sure that I head everything laid out, I checked the area one more time and stripped everything off except bra and panties. Then I lay on the blanket and stripped those off as well. I always get a little bit aroused when I do that and I lay there for a bit ,just touching myself in all those special places but then I regained my control, lay back and closed my eyes. I even had a little battery operated timer to remind me when it was time to turn over. I once got a bad burn by falling asleep and I've never made that mistake again.
My book of the moment was a steamy romance novel that bordered on erotica. I usually began masturbating by the time I had read for about half an hour or sooner if the action heated up faster. It had been years since I had sex but it wasn't because I was a virgin or anything. When I was just twenty years old, a man that I had dated, drugged and raped me on the other side of this very island. Whatever he gave me, didn't knock me out so I knew everything that he did to me but I could do nothing to stop him. It was a somewhat brutal attack and I went through hell for almost a year. Fortunately, I did have a good doctor who got me into therapy and I'm still going twice a month. I used to go three times a week. This time, however, I dozed off and was wakened by the bell on the timer. I reset it and rolled over on my back and closed my eyes again.
At some point later, I was wakened by voices coming toward my hiding place. I listened closely and determined that it was someone on the lake so I thought that perhaps they would just go on past. Instead, however, they beached their boat at the far end of the sand spit and walked toward me. Now I had a problem. I had waited too long and now I had to get my bikini on without attracting attention. It took some doing but I managed to get it done and then I crawled up beside a log that had drifted up some time during a storm. I carefully moved some branches aside so that I could try to find them.
It wasn't hard, because there isn't a lot of beach there. I heard two voices, a man and a woman. They were enjoying each others company, laughing and giggling as they spread a blanket on a small patch of sand behind a clump of birch that grew about eight or nine feet from the water. He produced a bottle of wine and some glasses and I licked my lips as they drank. I was afraid that if I opened my cooler, the bottles would clink together.
She seemed awfully familiar so I got my little binoculars and leaned the on the log. Imagine my shock when I realized that it was a girl from our neighborhood. She was eighteen or nineteen and very pretty. We didn't hit it off well at all so we just avoided each other. I was too old for her group and they were too wild for me. Actually, because of my fragile emotional situation, I didn't socialize much. I tried to get a good look at the man but he kept moving around and most of the time, he had his back to me.
When I finally got a good look at him, I dropped backwards onto the sand. I worked with his wife. In fact, she was a good friend of mine. She's a lovely petite woman with a warm and friendly personality and I loved working with her. We went to lunch together frequently. In fact,I had gone out to dinner with the two of them just two weeks prior to this. I wanted to jump up and scream or something but for one reason or other, I couldn't move.
What was I going to do? If I made any noise, they would know that I was there and my secret hideaway would be forever gone.
