Lone Rock

I laid down on the sand and let the waves break on my feet and run up my legs and to the pit of my arms. The sand slithered up the small of my back and down the curves of my shoulders. The sun blared across my chest, warming it quickly, but never able to conquer the splashes of water that constantly sprayed from the waves. These were not ocean waves, but lake waves that constantly rolled in as boats hurried past.
 
I closed my eyes and listened. The ripples of water broke on the shore. Jet skis and motor boats hummed past. My daughters splashed and played in the water. Next to us a group of sunbathers spoke French. Someone blasted hard rock, and “Turn up the Radio” rang across the beach. Suddenly a man spoke to me and I was brought from my reverie. “Would you like to move?” he asked.
 
“What was that?” I responded, opening my eyes.
 
“Would you like to move so we don't hit you with our boat?”
 
I looked up and saw a white motorboat with blue stripes faced in my direction. Of course, I moved.
 
They pulled the boat forward and fastened a rope from the nose to a peg that had been pounded into the ground. The boat joined a long line of jet skis, kayaks, paddle-boards, and swimmers that already lined the shore. This in addition to the tents, canopies, trucks, and R.V.'s a little bit further ashore. This is about what I expected on a hot summer's day at Lone Rock.
 

Earlier Savanah and I took the kayaks and paddled across the bay. We passed the buoys and left the din of the shore, but not the revving hum of the jet boats. When we saw them coming we would rest our paddles and let them pass and then bob up and down as the wake of the water passed beneath us. Then we continued our paddle across the blue waters until we reached the other side.
 
The sand there was softer and I sank to my ankles when I pulled the vessels ashore. We walked in our bare feet over hot rocks and up a solid hillock to a low promontory. From here we could see the long line of people and machines that stretched along the opposite side of the bay. We didn't stay long and paddled back across the bay.
 

We cooked hot dogs and corn on the cob over a propane grill while we watched the orange hues of dusk over the rocks of the lake. We sat in camp chairs and talked and enjoyed the warm breeze and talked about coming again next year.
 

Now night had fallen. Campfires dotted the shoreline. Generators buzzed. Country music blared over the speakers. A dozen different conversations mingled together. Lanterns illuminated card tables. Children played with glow sticks. One camp had Christmas lights. The stars fought hard to punch through the smoky sky, yet Mars shined like a beacon in the south.
 
Our family had laid out a tarp and tonight we slept under the stars. We laid on our bags and felt the warm air and listened to music.
 

About midnight the wind began to pick up. Fine grains of sand sprayed in my face and I covered my head with my bag. I could hear waves crushing on the shore and imagined the boats being tossed like toys.
 
Jenelle was the first to move to the tent, then Kaitlyn followed suit. Savanah joined them while Jenna and I hunkered down outside. Every time I peeked out my bag I was sprayed again with sand.
 
Outside I could hear busy campers fastening tents and securing items that might blow away.
 
At last we gave in also. Jenna and I looked at each other and decided it was time. We tossed our sleeping bags in the tent and in a whipping wind we folded the tarp and felt the sand as it blew with the wind. I looked above at the sky and found it full of stars.
 
I nestled down inside the tent and now enjoyed the howling of the wind outside. Our neighbors behind were still playing their music and I wished they would have turned it off. None of us slept much.
 

When morning came, Jenna poked her head inside the tent. She called me, but the rest of her words faded with the morning fog inside my head. But I knew what she wanted.
 
I climbed out of the tent and found Jenna sitting in a chair on the shore watching the skyline. The large orange disc of the sun had just crested the sandstone cliffs. A long coral streak reflected across the water. Everything was soft. No boats. Barely anyone awake. We watched in awe as the light bid morning to Lone Rock. ♠