Pinewoods 3: wet
Jul. 22nd, 2004 07:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jere7myWater fell out of the sky for the first three days, and we talked about how nifty it would be if water fell up from the ponds, and we could swim with drops flying upward from our splashes and hair-tips.
On Thursday there was sun. I put on my new swim goggles, which make me look like four kinds of dork in one sehxy package, and made the most of the sunshine beating down on Long Pond and slowly warming the cool water. Jo from Australia—Jo, I should mention, of the tiny red bikini and backless leather bodice—had lost a pinky-ring off the dock earlier that day, so I, lacking anything better to do, embarked on a search-and-recovery mission across the sandy bottom of the pond, muttering "Gollum, Gollum" as I repeatedly dove for the ring. Over the course of an hour, while Ellen watched from the dock and made "helpful" comments, I found a plastic bead and a button and a strange ribbon of silver that might have been an earring—but when I came up with it, Jo exclaimed that it was half of her ring, which must have broken when it came off. I dove again, searching the same area, and after a while saw a glimmer of silver poking out of the sand. I closed my fingers around it, then came up into the sun, crowing, "My p-p-p-reciousssss!" Big triumph for j7y, and I got a blushing "Thank you" in return. I impressed Cap'n Don, too.
Long Pond, denied its prize, had its revenge later that day. I took a canoe out by myself, in hopes of seeing turtles on the far side of the pond. The wind was in my face heading out, but I managed it, a little cockily; on the way back, though, it swung around and became gusty, pinning me against the eastern shore. I would make some headway, then the wind would come up and spin my canoe about on the pivot-point of my body-weight, and I'd find myself facing back the way I'd come. It took me 45 minutes of hard paddling to cover the half-mile width of Long Pond, facing into the setting sun, spinning about whenever the wind decided to play with me, with choppy little waves slapping the underside of my boat. I was exhausted by the time I got within sight of the dock, my shoulders aching, and during my approach I watched everyone head in for dinner, until I was alone on the pond. "Um?" I said, quietly. "Hello?" But then, just as I began to draw close, Miriam appeared there, in her cute gingham skirt and bright bikini top, like a solid mirage. It's been a while since I've been so happy to see someone. *grin* She helped me out of the canoe, then let me lean on her as I staggered off to supper, where MyS supplied an excellent shoulder-rub. Mmmm.
My only other serious encounter with water came on Friday night, after the final ball, when I went skinny-dipping in Round Pound with Miriam, Andy P., Bryn Mawr Joanna, some others. It was the night before the new moon, but the stars were bright, and the water was cold; I realized I was still on tiptoes after the first five minutes. A fine, fine night.
These cut me off as I was trying to get back, but they were pretty regardless. In general, if you're paddling a canoe alone while sailboats are flying merrily across the water, you may be in trouble. You can see where I was trying to get to.
Debbie is outgoing in this picture, not incoming.
Ellen, in red bikini. Suddenly legal this year, but I still think of her as fifteen. Alas.
Miriam. Quite a good picture of her, I think.
On Thursday there was sun. I put on my new swim goggles, which make me look like four kinds of dork in one sehxy package, and made the most of the sunshine beating down on Long Pond and slowly warming the cool water. Jo from Australia—Jo, I should mention, of the tiny red bikini and backless leather bodice—had lost a pinky-ring off the dock earlier that day, so I, lacking anything better to do, embarked on a search-and-recovery mission across the sandy bottom of the pond, muttering "Gollum, Gollum" as I repeatedly dove for the ring. Over the course of an hour, while Ellen watched from the dock and made "helpful" comments, I found a plastic bead and a button and a strange ribbon of silver that might have been an earring—but when I came up with it, Jo exclaimed that it was half of her ring, which must have broken when it came off. I dove again, searching the same area, and after a while saw a glimmer of silver poking out of the sand. I closed my fingers around it, then came up into the sun, crowing, "My p-p-p-reciousssss!" Big triumph for j7y, and I got a blushing "Thank you" in return. I impressed Cap'n Don, too.
Long Pond, denied its prize, had its revenge later that day. I took a canoe out by myself, in hopes of seeing turtles on the far side of the pond. The wind was in my face heading out, but I managed it, a little cockily; on the way back, though, it swung around and became gusty, pinning me against the eastern shore. I would make some headway, then the wind would come up and spin my canoe about on the pivot-point of my body-weight, and I'd find myself facing back the way I'd come. It took me 45 minutes of hard paddling to cover the half-mile width of Long Pond, facing into the setting sun, spinning about whenever the wind decided to play with me, with choppy little waves slapping the underside of my boat. I was exhausted by the time I got within sight of the dock, my shoulders aching, and during my approach I watched everyone head in for dinner, until I was alone on the pond. "Um?" I said, quietly. "Hello?" But then, just as I began to draw close, Miriam appeared there, in her cute gingham skirt and bright bikini top, like a solid mirage. It's been a while since I've been so happy to see someone. *grin* She helped me out of the canoe, then let me lean on her as I staggered off to supper, where MyS supplied an excellent shoulder-rub. Mmmm.
My only other serious encounter with water came on Friday night, after the final ball, when I went skinny-dipping in Round Pound with Miriam, Andy P., Bryn Mawr Joanna, some others. It was the night before the new moon, but the stars were bright, and the water was cold; I realized I was still on tiptoes after the first five minutes. A fine, fine night.
These cut me off as I was trying to get back, but they were pretty regardless. In general, if you're paddling a canoe alone while sailboats are flying merrily across the water, you may be in trouble. You can see where I was trying to get to.
Debbie is outgoing in this picture, not incoming.
Ellen, in red bikini. Suddenly legal this year, but I still think of her as fifteen. Alas.
Miriam. Quite a good picture of her, I think.
