Four chapters.
One summer you'll never forget.
First light.
The lake hasn't woken up yet. You ease out of the slip before the coffee gets cold, and for twenty minutes it's just you and the glass. This is what we buy boats for.
A wave big enough to remember.
The kids have gotten good. The cousins have, too. The wave behind the M240 stops conversation on the dock. Everybody wants a turn. Nobody wants to go in.
Lunch at anchor.
You drop the hook in the lee of the island. Sandwiches, cold drinks, feet in the water. An hour turns into three. This is the part nobody puts in the brochure. This is the part that matters.
Home before the rain.
September in the Pacific Northwest is a gift. Glass water, gold light, the last real evenings of the year. We winterize the boat in October. It'll be ready for you in May. Summers remembered are summers you can't get back. Which is why we work this hard.