Fishing Kayak
The sea is flat, only a light wind blows. Three or four hundred yards
out, the beach sounds: breeze in pines, the rush and suck of surf, a
distant car; fade away. It is not silent. The hiss of the kayak's hull
cutting through water, the plash and drip as I work the paddle, the outraged squawk of scoter and eider, surround me. A faraway piston-engine aircraft adds its insect whine to the mix.
Fishing Kayak
Fishing Kayak
Fishing Kayak
Fishing Kayak
Fishing Kayak
Fishing Kayak
Fishing Kayak
Fishing Kayak
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