When I was small, my sister and I went on some great fishing adventures. We had more fun in an inflatable boat with two poles and some pretty jigs than two people should. We'd go out on the pond, sometimes pulling a second boat behind us, sometimes we'd even take out THREE boats and paddle around, fishing, frog hunting, or just trolling the afternoon away. We must have been quite the sight. We never did make it off the boat onto the island, though. Not sure why. Maybe we were scared. Maybe we didn't see the need to, maybe we were just content with boating, but it was always a mysterious place.
Years later, some friends and I boated out to Cedar Isle and built some sort of a shack that we had fastened out of pieces of an old, dilapidated fort that someone had built long before we had arrived. We built a roof from a tarp, and added a mailbox, a doorbell (or warning chime?), and some old rusted tin cans and glass soda bottles we found floating about the island. It wasn't much to look at, and we never went out there more than a handful of times, but it was special, and it was adventurous, and it felt so good to have a secret fort on an island that no one went to except us and the swans that nested there in the spring.
Ever since we moved back, I've been curious about the fort. Was it still standing after two decades, wind, and hail, tornado season after tornado season?
About a week ago, I found an inflatable raft with paddles at the grocery store. (I know, weird place, right?) But it brought back all the memories of being a kid on that pond, and I threw it in the cart. It didn't make it out of the box until yesterday when hubby left for his run. We waved him off and as I turned to go inside, there it was.
It was a beautiful day, and Cedar Isle was calling my name.
It took a little convincing for Evan, but we were setting off from shore about 15 minutes later.
We only brought a crappy cell phone with us, just in case we got caught in a tsunami or something and all our possessions went to the bottom of the lake for-eh-vuh. I mean, how would we survive without our iphones, right? ;) And, I've lost the battery charger for the lifeproof camera, so we were stuck documenting with a glorified Razor phone (y'all KNOW what I'm talking about!)
|The einsteins in the maiden voyage to Cedar Isle|
After a loop around the island, we docked and ventured onto the island that would transport us back in time. The fort wasn't there anymore, but someone else had been there! There were bits and pieces of the old fort we had built, but they were, once again, rebuilt into a new fort. They had made a kind of lean-to with baling twine. We found a dog's collar whose date was 2000, and scattered remains of old tin cans and tools, rusted and left.
|The einstens and the new fort!|
I wonder who discovered the place after we had left it so long ago. I wonder if the remnants of the fort we had found were recycled from a fort even before that one, and how many forts had recycled on that island. I kinda wish there was a log there. A geocache from every child that found neverland on that island.
|Cedar Isle, with our street in the background.|
|The "2000" fort. Soon, maybe, to be upcycled once again...|
While we were readying to set off for shore, hubby came over the dam. We hollered and yelled, and he saw us! You can just baaaaarrrrrely see us on this picture. (Look for the slightly neon green dot!)
We had taken aboard a big umbrella in case the rain came, but it made us a faster way to get back to shore (once we got into the wind). Hubby called it the "Mary Poppins Technique", which sounded better than the "Redneck-Sailboat" we had come up with.
We came ashore and told daddy all about our adventures on the lake, and turtles, and waves, and fish jumping, and an abandoned beach ball, and hidden staircases, and the baby island, and the fort and the island and dreaming of the next trip.
I think we'll need a bigger boat...or three.