Moment: Opening Day

I'm sure you've heard the expression, "My life is measured by hours of boredom punctuated by moments of terror." The expression may be a bit overstated but it is essentially true. A life's memories consist primarily of a few choice moments. When we approached retirement, Libby and I thought back on life's choice moments and we realized that very many of them were moments on sailboats. This is the story of one of those moments.

One day in early October I found myself anchored for the night in Porter Bay on Lake Champlain. Porter Bay was one of my favorite anchorages. It provided good shelter from wind and waves from all directions. It was also picturesque being surrounded by marshes. These were not salt water marshes but fresh water marshes. They are exceedingly rare in upstate New York and Vermont. From one corner of Porter Bay, in daylight, I also had a great view of Camel's Hump. Camel's Hump is Vermont's second
tallest mountain and it looks magnificent from down below.

Sailing in October on Lake Champlain had become my favorite form of vacation. Around the first of October most of the other boaters had already quit for the season. The winds would be ample, sometimes gale force. Best of all, the fall colors would be close to peak and the scenery was spectacular. When I was able to entice them, family or friends would accompany me on the week-long trip, but this time I was alone.

A down side to October sailing is that it would be cool, sometimes even cold. On this particular night the temperature dropped to well below freezing. I didn't care though because I was snug in sleeping bag down below. Little did I know what was happening as I slept.

You see, the first week of October is also the time of another annual event -- the opening of duck hunting season. It just so happened that duck season opened at 5 AM that morning. I didn't know that. I also didn't know that I was anchored at ground zero. All those beautiful marshes surrounding the bay make this the premier duck hunting spot of the whole state.

Before first light, and as I slept secure and unknowing, the duck hunters were moving in and taking positions all around me. Some of them went to blinds while others sat in their boats covered by camouflage nets and grass, making them in to floating blinds. Finally, the moment arrived -- 5 AM.

BLAM. I was awakened instantly. BLAM BLAM BLAM. My mind struggled to perceive the reality as I shook off the cobwebs of sleep. BLAM BLAM. BLAM BLAM BLAM. My God, those are gunshots. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM. What is this; World War III? The gunshots were not only numerous they were so close that they sounded like they were coming from my boat. I scrambled up on deck in my underwear, only to slip and fall on the layer of ice that the boat had acquired overnight. "Ouch" that
hurt.

Then I looked around and finally I understood what was happening. There were a dozen or more duck blinds and boats all around me. All of them had three or four hunters in them and they were all blasting away at the few duck I could see who were already far out of range and furiously flapping away as fast as their wings could carry them.

Those dingbat hunters seemed to be caught up in the excitement and they didn't care that the ducks were long gone. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM. I went back below decks to try to sleep some more. BLAM BLAM BLAM. I didn't get any sleep for another half hour because those danged hunters keep blasting away.

When I finally did wake up at eight o'clock all the hunters were gone and the bay was idyllically peaceful once again. I looked up at Camels Hump. It was capped by a spectacular white top where the frost coated the trees. It was pure white at the top and pure green at the bottom (evergreens only on Camel's Hump). The dividing line between the white and the green was so sharp that it could have been cut by a knife.

I really love the beauty of the nature on Lake Champlain, but in the future I'll also keep track of the date of opening day of hunting season.