I launched my kayak from Boca Grande at 5:00am.  A strong easterly breeze kept a chill in the early-morning air.  For the first thirty minutes, I paddled the open water under nothing but the silver glow of the moon light.  The moderately-choppy seas, which continuously shoved me around, had a ghostly reflection from the full moon.  The only sounds I heard were the different tones of the water; the small waves slapping my boat, the wind-driven whitecaps, churning over themselves, and the ripples and currents, swirling by, roughening the surface of the black, cryptic sea.  My mind wandered as I imagined those murky swirls were created by sea creatures.  A creepy chill ran through my body as I thought about all the life that I was blinded to beneath me, lurking, waiting.

Minuscule and vulnerable.  That’s how I felt sitting in my tiny boat.  A speck on a large body of water, unseen in the darkness.  Then I got to watch the world come to life from the first light, surrounded by open water, alone, witnessing a gorgeous sunrise and moon set.  Time moved slowly as the sun’s light transitioned, energizing the world around me.  It was another one of those magical moments.

I had a difficult time taking a straight shot while being constantly jostled by the waves.

Barnacles on a log, waiting for high tide.

Paddle Shadow

A work boat, docked near Boca Grande