Swamped

Not exactly sitting pretty, I swamped and soaked myself.  Even worse, I lost my balance getting aboard, and slammed my foot so hard into the bottom that it split the hull.  This is the sort of thing that the books and websites don’t bother to mention; what a tender craft this can be, or how damage can happen and how to deal with it.  Repairs are underway back home in the Research and Development Department, with a round of Irish coffee for the crew.  At the moment, I feel a lot more like Toad than Water Rat.

The discovery of the day, though, happened because Evan and I went fishing in the rain, and after getting thoroughly soaked went for a drive.  On a whim, he suggested Pump Station Road, site of an old dam and pumping station on the White River.  There’s potential here.  Good structure, great location.  Maker space, anybody?

There’s plenty of water here, year-round, and so close to town.  If she hadn’t been taking on so much water, we could have explored a bit, maybe next time.

“The canoe implies a long antiquity in which its manufacture had been gradually perfected. It will, ere long, perhaps be ranked among the lost arts.” -Thoreau