A Salty Peace

This summer, one of our goals is to be floating on the Long Island Sound by every Friday afternoon or evening. Within minutes of pushing off-shore, just a few paddles into the waves and my blood pressure drops and muscles, release. Yesterday, we left at high tide under an impossibly blue sky.  We paddled against a slight wind but the waves were minimal and unlike a Saturday or Sunday, there was not much motorboat traffic. The water appeared inky-black, a reminder of the approaching evening.  We are acutely aware of weather and tides these days, checking the chart stuck with a magnet to our refrigerator or doing the math in our head from when we were last out, we calculate a difference of 45 minutes later each day so we know what to expect.

At first, our goal is just to get away from shore, and we slide our paddles in and out in a swift, coordinated rhythm. Sometimes we stop to bounce along in the waves, close our eyes and breathe deep, damp, salty breaths. Yesterday, scanning the horizon – the lighthouse: too far.  The osprey nest: maybe. We opted to go between two islands that at low tide, becomes one.  Once out between the small patches of forest, floating close to the slightly submerged rocks and swaying green grasses, we paused to listen to a chorus of birds in evening song.

There is a watery spot out there that has become a favorite place in the world for me.  A few years ago, I did not know it existed – a paradise, so close.  We round a rocky bend a few islands out and find ourselves with mostly water beyond – only one more island between us that keeps the waters still calm.  There is no sign of the busy shore here, only a brambly-green of beach roses and scrub, trees, rock, sand. A bird preserve.  Here the water is warmer and always more still than the waves just a bit beyond and but for passing motorboats, all we hear are the odd throaty grumble of white egrets swooping by or the plaintive scream of seagulls fighting over a just-caught clam.  A little further along we reach a sandbar where the force of the tides pushes hard into this cove.  Sometimes, it’s a struggle to paddle against this current but when the tide is low, we must get out of the boat and lift it across the slippery rocks.  By the time we have reached this spot, pushed out of our peaceful little bay into the wavy expanse of the Sound, I am completely at peace.