As the soft gloom engulfed our boat, visibility was reduced to zero. The fog on the lake was a wall we could not touch, moving away as we approahed, but remaining all around. Our tripmates, propelled by a more efficient hull design, faded into the mist, leaving my red canoe the only subject on a blank canvas. Dampened loon calls echoed through the grey obscurity, beacons to nowhere, guiding us in no particular direction.
Frigid crisp September winds floated over the river causing the water to dance with each gust. The sun peaked through the clouds teasing the ground below with patches of golden warm light. My brotherm father, and I shared shorties and beloved memories quitely as we paddled. Suddenly we approach a bend and peered to the right to see a baby moose sipping from the river's edge. Moose river is the definition of serene natural beauty.
East Branch Penobscot. I bought a Disco 169 red. I still have her today. Water was high and fast. Distant mountains still snow covered and Haskell Rock barely poked its head out of the flooding waters. My fondest memory however of this trip still remains the same. Time stood still. I could return there today and its beauty woudl remain as if it were trapped in a time capsule. I hope it stays that way.
No lines are longer than 80 characters, TYVM. Other specified properties aren't being scored automatically at this time so this is not necessarily good news...