Chapter Seventeen
The lake is not as I imagined. Not turquoise like the ones we saw from the plane, shocking bits of a tropical ocean in the
middle of a field of ice. This water is an eerie gray like the beach and the rocks and the hills around it. In fact, except
for a green patch on the far shore, you’d think we’d landed on another planet, a moonlike vibe in this otherworldly place.
“It’s the silt from the mountain,” says Brick. “You won’t see your oar tip once you dip it in the water. Very sci-fi out here.
Takes your breath away.”
I readjust my expectations of what lakes should look like, blue-green water, thick stands of trees right up to the shoreline,
geese flying overhead, squawking, and I start to see what he sees. A world I might never have had the privilege to experience.
When we arrive at the shore, after we leave the planes and Loni and Kyle behind, a line of kayaks with long oars and a pile
of life jackets and other equipment is waiting for us. “How did this get here?” asks Xavier.
“A bit of Grizzly Track Adventures magic,” Brick says to the boy and winks at his assistant Jace.
“We share a shed back there with a few other outfitters, yeah,” says Jace. “Fly ’em out at the start of the season, bring
’em back before the snow comes.”
“That’s not magic,” says Xavier.
“Yeah, no, it’s not. But the rest of today will be. There are tandem boats if you want a paddling buddy. Or singles if you’re needing to enjoy some peace and quiet on the water.”
The idea of peace and quiet is the perfect antidote after last night, so I step in front of a single boat. I could use a break
from Lily, to be honest, and I’ve had enough of pairing up for one day.
“You can follow me or find you own way. You can’t go wrong in any direction. Word to the wise, don’t climb on the icebergs,
ha. And don’t miss that girl over there. We call her the Tunnel of Love. This year she’s formed that opening and you can paddle
through it. You are very lucky to see this. The ice in the tunnel is clear blue glass, thousands of years old. By next week
it might be gone. Things are always moving and changing here. That’s the beauty of this land. Every day is different.”
Jace begins to explain the pile of gear in front of each kayak and how to use it, just as Lily hops into a green boat meant
for only one person and paddles off. I guess she doesn’t want to hear it from me today either. Fine. Peace and quiet it is.
Jace helps me as I climb into the kayak with wobbly legs. I begin to worry about my own seaworthiness. “What if I fall in?”
“Don’t do that,” he warns. “That’s glacier melt, that lake. You’ll freeze your ass off.”
“What if I row out there and can’t get back?”
“Have fun,” he yells as he pushes my boat into the water.
The surface of the lake ripples around me.
Quietly, smoothly, I’m gliding across gray satin.
I dip my oar and pull it through the water the way Brick showed us earlier.
The boat picks up a little speed. I keep my strokes slow and even, and I make steady progress toward a series of seemingly small floating ice mountains that grow larger as I approach.
Everything is quiet except for the whisper of water flowing past the sides of the boat.
Even the laughing and shouting from my fellow travelers fades as we all head in different directions.
I can’t see Lily anywhere, but that’s just fine with me.
I lift my oar from the water and lay it across my lap.
The boat drifts, and I take a deep breath.
I let my fingers graze the water but pull them back after they become tingly and red.
A cloud shifts, and the sun dials up all the colors.
Even with the silty water, the snowcapped mountains in the distance reflect off the lake, making a perfect upside-down mirrored world.
I pick up my oar and paddle over to a large chunk of floating ice. It towers over me, and I think of the saying “that’s just
the tip of the iceberg.” I hear giggles tripping across the water, and in the distance, I see Luna and Mimi’s boat tucked
into the Tunnel of Love.
I paddle around the iceberg and head to the greener shoreline. When my arms and back get tired, I let myself drift. Nowhere
to go, nowhere to be. No appointments or laundry lists of responsibilities today. Closer to the shore, I hear a squawk and
tilt my head to see a bald eagle in a tree. I dip my oar back in the water and paddle toward the bird. That’s when I see the
empty kayak. The same green one Lily set off in.