Running up the passage between the rock garden and the shore, I open the outboard’s throttle. Five horses give me all they've got. There are three buoys which delimit the boulder water. I cut inside the first one knowing that the shark fin boulder on my left is only a sentry. There’s still plenty of deep water before the real peril. Cutting right just a few yards from shore, I cruise through the shallow water. Someone watching from the far shore would think this run reckless, but they can’t see me in the fog.
The ghost of Bob Arnold
by Steve Zakur - Tuesday, Oct 10th, 2017