You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.
Cats surveying the unfamiliar territory
Choupette wanders down to the far end of Mussent Point, scoping out the possibilities for adventure. (We're sneaking along behind to make sure she learns not to go off the property.)
In past years, Melvin has been fairly good about not crossing the cattleguard -- toward the neighbors' properties, toward the highway! We hope that Mr Mel will pass that wisdom on.
Hydrobikes resting up for their afternoon labors on the lake
Two cats investigating the dock -- neither of them is a great friend of water, which here is all round them.
-- What's that thing for?
Melvin expressing an interest in our nearest neighbors
-- Come here, Choup, have a look at this [in cat-talk].
On this and probably many lakes, there are flags, and then, there are flags.
Having exhausted the possibilities on the dock, the cats seek new pastures . . .
. . . like back on the canoes.
And a nearby windowbox
Heroically posed to survey the future . . .
A evident lack of confidence
The White Cat approaches, innocently enough, from the direction of the Forbidden Cattleguard.
No warm greetings here
Now's your chance! Get 'im.
Choupette has moved on to trying to cadge another breakfast from Kristin's sister Liz. (As every day, we later learned.)
But not successfully today
Choupette in ambush mode
The moment has come -- decision time! What will Choupette do? (She sprinted across the cattleguard and got 60 meters up the driveway before a dragonfly resting by the roadside distracted her and we nabbed the fuzzy little malefactor.)
Good taste in dock flags
An unwelcome sight greets us upon rising on 5 August 2020. The enemy is among us.
The eagle's off the roof now, but likely lurking about somewhere near.
Ah, as expected -- so predictable! Don't let the cats out for a while.
Though the government-protected evildoer may be targeting this cute little loon instead.
That crisis past, here are a few random scenics. This is the north side of what the little map below calls 'Crescent Island' but is known to us as Raymond's Island.
Wave action on the shore -- most of it 'anthropogenic' [viz. wakeboard boats, etc.]
A long reef off the northwest end of Raymond's
A snug little cabin on the point at Raymond's
The so-called 'Beaver Island' (or colloquially, Ryden's Island) is sometimes an island, and sometimes a peninsular sort of extension of the mainland, depending on the water level.
The great sport is to get up your hydrobike momentum and discover whether you can 'Cross the Bar' without getting stuck on top of the reef and having to dismount and face derision whilst dragging it the rest of the way over.
Of course, Tennyson's 'Crossing the Bar' was only a hopefully inappropriate metaphor --
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
. . .
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
'Beaver Island' is all just a picnic table and a shaky ex-dock these days.
That's the 'Crossing of the Bar' bar from the north.
The brutalized lake shore, even behind the once-protective tag alders, which are now fading away with the higher water levels
The dreaded invasive weed, the purple loosestrife, our first spotting on the lake this year
Impressive clouds
More impressive clouds
Impressive ducks (mallards, we've been told)
Gliding along imperturbably, unless you perturb them, which we try not to do
We sleep wherever we land on the rugs.
Pleased to report that Oscar has joined us on the lake for a few weeks (that's Ryden's Island straight ahead, and the Crossing of the Bar).
And back past Raymond's, with that vile presence always watchful. (Luckily, we're well too big for him.)
That's one mean-spirited National Bird. As Tennyson also wrote,
He clasps the [tree] with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
The wrinkled [lake] beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls . . .
. . . And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Mussent Point is at no. 12.
Dwight Peck's personal website
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All rights reserved, all wrongs avenged. Posted 6 November 2020. 
