Well, all those pretty Maine scenes you picture--those scenes with the colorful harbors populated with sailboats and workboats tugging at their moorings and anxious to shed their docklines, ready to head off to play hard or work even harder, with sun sparkling off the water and fluffy white clouds dancing overhead--those scenes change dramatically at low tide--at least they do here in Bass Harbor.
At low tide, I would guess something like three quarters of the area of this harbor turns into mud flats. And that ain't so scenic. Not the kind of scene that you would capture for a postcard and write home to brag about where you'd been.
If your boat is a serious boat, whether serious about work or play, you've secured a properly located mooring or dock space where there's still plenty of water under your keel, and you can ride out low tide with little worry or inconvenience. The mud won't bother you. However lots of casual boats sit the low tide out, literally stuck in the mud.
This tide thing is also true of our lives. We live our lives in the midst of high tides and low tides, with some sense of symmetry and an acquired recognition that some days are better than others. But in our reporting (about our vacations, and our lives) there is the temptation to report only about our high tides, sunny days, and brightly colored harbors. We tend to share less about the gray days spent at low tide, stuck in the mud.
When you're stuck in the mud, at least you don't need to worry about dragging anchor and going aground. You're there and most likely will stay there until the tide starts to come in.
So, you know what's coming. Enjoy the anticipation of your ride back to the next high tide. Its making its way.
1 comment:
Amen,brother!
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