Free Write

Crisp little waves rap against the hull pushing the low moan of distant motors farther away. He works efficiently with the lines, allowing the wooden craft to drift only as far as intended. In one fluid motion he drops the last coil in its place, sits down to the controls, and slides the throttle forward. Quiet percolation bubbles into a deep throb propelling the boat forward. Low at first, the boat then rises atop the lazy undulations of the river. The craft’s fanned out wake rolls through tall waving grass. A dragonfly glides along the leading edge of the wake. His slow turn of the wheel leans the boat into the meandering bend of the river. Soon he and his boat emerge from the muffled, tree-lined waterway into a small lake. A wash of sounds greet him on the cool persistent breeze. He leans forward, sliding the throttle forward more. Now his outboard joins the chorus of the small lake’s activities. His course cuts straight across this body of water to the channel, and then on to the big lake. 

Powerful waves bash the channel’s concrete walls. As the big lake’s energy churns the channel his boat pitches sharply. He advances slowly. He spies the body of water’s slow muscular surface in fits. One last pitch delivers a gust of cold spray, soaking his head. Then the channel gives way to open water. Sliding the throttle fully open his craft plows forward. The open water is empty. Only errant whitecaps it’s deep green and blue surface. Their leaps are quick and then disappear. His boat now skipping along the surface, chatters along it’s wooden hull. Through a tunnel of wind roaring in his ears he hears the repeated slap of plank and wave. Hair plastered to his forehead, sunglasses pressed close, only his lips move. He smiles slightly. Racing along the back of the big lake there are no more details. The horizon spreads out from periphery to periphery. His craft continues to chatter along some invisible line. Standing, he lets the steering wheel play loosely in his hands. Now fully exposed to the wind he sips at the air. The clammy blast presses his shirt into his chest. For one moment his eyes close. He gulps at the air—the rhythm shatters. The steering wheel punches the palms of his hands. Even as his grip tightens his legs liquefy in the boat’s roll. The vicious crack of water against wood. The scream of engine. The shock of immersive cold. 

The sun blinds him as he breaks the surface with a gasp. He chokes and coughs. He recoils at the sight of his capsized boat—it’s hull languishing amidst indifferent waters. He takes two strokes away from the wreck. Then, the depth of the big lake behind him suddenly animates his body. He frantically swims to the boat and clings to the hull. He tries to pull his body onto the overturned craft but his head protests in pain. Pressure pounds the inside of his skull so he relents. Hanging limply from the hull he looks for the first time towards land. The sliver of distant shoreline pitches out of sight as the big lake’s surface rises and falls. Waves rap against the hull, but he can no longer discern such details.