Placing my paddle into the big glass of water, the waves move at my will. My arms quake under the pressure of trying to move me, my canoe, and my friend towards our destination. I am not quite the strongest, my upper body strength is minimal, at best. The mountains glowed from a distance, the outline of the tops edging back towards the sky, turning into a shadow. The trees become triangles and the land becomes oval as we paddle on into the skyline. The sunlight crystalizes the water, making diamonds with every ripple, the lake becoming more privileged with each stroke. My skin is flushed and warm from the midday heat and I feel tempted to just tip the canoe and enjoy being one with the earth for a change; being in the lake is the closest thing I have to be fully immersed into our planet. As I continue on, I bicker nonsense with my friend: which way we should turn, if we are paddling on the same sides, and who should sit in the back next time in order to take control. But we get to our destination somehow, even with the fear of getting lost looming over our heads like the great white plush clouds above us.
