“Uneventful,” says Don’t Follow Don.
“Uneventful,” agrees Gandalf.
Silver Surfer nods his head, “Yup.”
We all agree at paddle’s end, standing next to our boats on Bruno’s concrete launch ramp, our outing’s been uneventful.
Could’ve been the evening’s weather: crystal clear skies, short-sleeve-t-shirt-warm temps, the bay polished glass without imperfection, the evening’s breath on hold.
A perfect Staten Island Chuck evening, the groundhog forecasting an early spring. His more famous cousin Punxsutawney Phil’s long, cold shadow’s not gonna cover the bay in winter glum this year. Leastways, not tonight.
A side note about the bay’s polished glass surface: That surface is so exquisite, putting paddle to her seems like an act of vandalism, destroying a skilled glass blower’s work of art, defiling the bay’s serenity.
Only one of us has the will power, the artistic presence of mind not to disturb the bay, to not add ripples where none belong. Sitting in the rear cockpit behind Silver Surfer in his tandem, Gandalf displays pure aesthetic paddling form, rarely puts his paddle to water.
Despite delicate paddle strokes, we manage to navigate around Buckwheat and Chard, then go beyond Pt. San Pedro to The Sisters. At The Sisters, we thread Grindle’s Needle, nothing out of the ordinary separating our threading this evening from other evenings.
“Oh hum,” his paddle shipped, Gandalf’s reaction to the threading says it best.
The Needle threaded, we do a 180 back past Pt. San Pedro. Not far from the point slumps the beached sailboat of the last several months. The sailboat having lost its draw on us, we paddle on, pull out on Party Beach North.
To be precise, Gandalf, Silver Surfer, and I are first to go ashore on Party Beach North. Aware the beach is chair challenged, Don’t Follow Don goes ashore closer to the derelict sailboat, finds a usable white plastic patio chair, balances it on his foredeck, paddles with it to Party Beach North.
I take 96 photos tonight—many more than usual—hoping some of them will reveal noteworthy events. Only ones worth mentioning are those of Don’t Follow Don shlepping that plastic patio chair on his foredeck.
You can see those few eventful photos in the comiX, the link in its usual place at the end of this report.
Even with proper seating, even with The Beach Boys harmonizing through Silver Surfer’s portable speaker hanging on a rock, our time on Party Beach North is uneventful.
We chat about lotsa different brands of beer, the operative adjective being ‘cold,’ the warm evening calling for cold beer. We sample several brews, decide we like all of them cold.
Cold beer’s only a few kegs removed from Don’t Follow Don’s relatives, his brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles. Don’t Follow Don portrays growing up with the unruly lot about as close as you could get to The Wild West in East Michigan.
“Only time my brothers and cousins would settle down was when Aunt Alma brought out her homemade lasagna. She baked it in a pan that musta been a yard square. ‘No fightin’,’ she’d say, ‘if you want lasagna.’ None of us dared argue with Aunt Alma.”
No lasagna on Party Beach North. The regular tonight. Chopped veggies inlaid with salmon, topped with TJ’s spicy curry dressing. A green salad with apples, pears, avocados, cashews. Maybe dried blueberries.The salad dressing in an unmarked plastic bag, Gandalf tastes a sample dabbed on his fingertip, smiles.
“Any good?” says Silver Surfer.
“Isn’t burning my tongue or esophagus,” says Gandalf. He gets a thumbs up from us, dumps the bag’s contents onto the salad, gives it a good shake, and Bob’s your uncle, an excellent salad with spicy undertones.
For a true reporting of Thurseve, check out the comiX ‘cause photos don’t lie.
Date: Thurseve, 10 February 2022.
Distance: Five point seven nautical miles.
Speed: One point three knots.
Time: Four point five hours.
Spray factor: None.
Dessert: Brookies (brownie + cookies)