East Coast Adventure - August 28-25, 2017

East Coast Adventure

August 28-25, 2017

What can be said about a week spend with women?  A week of staying up late, of sleeping in, of spontaneous plans and planned spontaneity.  It only felt like a dream when I thought about it and it all began and ended in Creskill, New Jersey.  A seemingly odd place for any adventure to begin and end.  

After a red-eye through the night flight Kelsey and I were deliriously whisked away in a white cube car with Krista behind the wheel.  A nap on Amy’s family couch steadied our sea legs and we boarded our boober (boat uber) the Clearwater herself, in transit to the 29th St. boat basin herself.  Distracted and numb to the sights, sounds, shapes, and sizes, the K’s reunited all the way to a beer garden to share a table, beer, and a schnitzel with Lindsey, Kelsey’s sister.  

A people watching city bonanza, a beer and flesh feast, a sit down and catch up kind of place.  Departing with as much lack of purpose as we arrived, the trio made their way back to the boat basin to welcome the Friends of the Clearwater on their annual sunset sail.  What followed can only be described as an all you can eat buffet for the senses.  

The sticky sweat that merged my two thighs into one, the feel of the rope (line) as it pinched and burned my skin and fired my muscles into action.  The sound of the sea shanty Krista shouted as the Friends of the Clearwater tried their best to be the sailors they knew Pete Seiger wished they were.  We represented youth and they represented the kind of entitled chaos I know I’ll never understand and still can’t decide if it was even real.  A brief and beautiful glimpse into a life I may never know and may feel okay about not knowing: Boat Life.  Another language, another culture, another world view alive and well on the deck of the Clearwater sloop.

Dinner below deck, the sun sets, we pack up, and that’s that.  A fast time travel aboard the loud, rusty red ’95 work 4Runner exhaust pipe dragging and all.  My bones melt into the floor of Krista’s Kingston living room and a new Sunday begins.

It’s August 20 and time to take Kate home to Ipswich, Mass.  Home to her mom and her sisters and the dog who likes the cows and the garden with fresh basil and zucchinis.  Home to the ice cream shop with honey lavender flavors and Crane’s Beach that never gets deep no matter how far you run or swim.  Where girls have to say goodbye without kissing in front of moms who don’t know what’s really going on.

Well, the three K’s talk about it all over a sea food feast at C.K. Pearl and drive Goose into the night until we reach Lake Winnipesaukee, NH.  Captain Amy drives the surprise pontoon loaded with ladies as we gape under the stars and half knowingly contemplate how they all aligned to get us all to this moment together.  We trudge to our trundle beds and lie in peace knowing we’re a small piece of something larger and a piece of work all our own.

It’s Monday at the Nelson’s Eagle lake house and the sun bathes the screened in porch in morning light.  I sip my coffee listening to the waves lap the rocky shore of Beaver Island and the chatter of women that I know well and not at all. 

There are seven of us.  And it takes seven pairs of sunglasses to look at the sun while the moon walks across its fullness.  And it takes seven girls to laugh and drink and swim and play and waterski for the first or 100th time.  Seven girls with seven different minds, bodies, and souls to explore the seven different differences, similarities, and realities.

Dinner, hot tub, songs sung and banjo played around a fire.  Acoustic Kesha and a crackling fire with seven seats.  Don’t forget the stroll around the island, the stranger’s deck loitering, and the naked raft party!  Seven sevens skinny dipping.

It’s Tuesday and have I mentioned how much I love sleeping in late?!  Sun porch coffee basking.  Blonde Bimbo boat canoe trip around Beaver Island.  The water is a clear emerald, the trees are as green as the eye can see and the sky is really showing its true colors.  The water feels like slipping into something more comfortable.  It’s time to begin the next leg of the adventure to find out just how green and glorious Vermont really is.

Kelsey’s home in Norwich, VT stands mighty on the Connecticut River, its muddy waters reflecting her childhood memories.  Her roots the same as the trees growing along the riverbank; grounded, deep, and strong.  The family pontoon delivers us safely to the new home of her childhood friends for a magazine dinner party.  

From the porch twinkle lights to the watermelon palate cleanser, everything is perfect.  I slide my thumb along the scale between, “I absolutely want this”, “I think I should want this”, and “I definitely don’t want this” until I’m too drunk and happy to mull such things over.  Instead of judging everyone and everything, it’s probably best to just enjoy it as it is.  Maybe that’s just the wine talking.  Its still only Tuesday and I’m too drunk to sleep in a bed any way but diagonally and I think I’m happy because I’m definitely laughing.

It’s Wednesday.  Waterhole day.  We gather the women and meet at the Quechee dam for Waterhole antics.  Swimming, floating, scrambling, bare feet, tan skin.  Vermont is a place you can be from, visit, return to, be in.  Krista and Amy jump from the rope swing while Kelsey, Maura, Laura, and I lie on the warm, flat rock and watch.  There’s hand blown glass and beer afterward, of course.  And then goodbyes as we leave Kelsey in the warm hands of her house and Head family.

 We are lake-bound once again.  Winnipesaukee calls!  

Thursday marks the final day of our togetherness.  With Kelsey back in Norwich with her family and Kate at Winnipesaukee with Krista.  We waterski, take a leisurely boat ride to a farther reach of the lake, and eventually say our goodbyes.  It’s time to complete the loop and head to Kingston, NY.