The tide is high, but is beginning to go out. RiverWinds Point is quiet in mid-morning. There’s briefly only one car besides mine parked in the circle.
I can hear the water of the river sloshing ashore in tiny waves that grow into mini-breakers now and then when something kicks them up: wind, passing boats, I’m often not sure what prompts them, but I love them.
There’s a container ship anchored just downriver from me. It has been there for at least two days. So has the long tanker berthed directly across from me. There’s another barge and tug boat combination anchored just a bit up river.
Yesterday, two yachts motored by. One was gleaming white and quite sizeable. The other was duller white and smaller. Both had sails furled. I didn’t have my Steiner Safari 8 X 30 binoculars with me, so I didn’t see people on either yacht.
I rarely see crew members of anchored or passing working ships, even tug boats.
The sun is beating down on my shoulders and my knees, where they extend out from under my cargo shorts. My Closest Companion laughs at my suntanned knees for some reason I don’t understand.
It seems my anemia has subsided enough that I am not sitting at the river wrapped in my leather coat. I have reverted to shorts and Hawaiian shirts. I wore Keen sandals last summer and they gave me weird tiger strip sunburn on my feet. This year, I am wearing my Teva sandals for a more traditional tan line.
I cover up my neck, arms, hands, knees, calfs and feet with sunscreen. I wear either a long, leather-billed khaki fisherman’s cap or a floppy Panama Jack straw hat. Around my neck, a shemagh, the Middle Eastern scarf adopted by many Special Operations soldiers. It helps protect my neck, mops up sweat and has many other uses.
I finally gave up trying to get my painful hip comfortable on the black iron benches at RiverWinds Point. Now I keep a green folding sling chair in the car. Easy to set up and comfortable to sit in.
I still look clumsy as hell sometimes. I’ll get out of the car with my cane, a water bottle or drink cup, a notebook and my chair. (I’m generally one of this stubborn one-trip guys. I am learning to make more than one trip. Set up the chair, take the drink container and notebook to the chair. Voila!)
When I finish this column, I think I’ll head up to the river again. It’s cloudy, but still warm.