Riding a Fender

We had our first day of eighth grade camp today.  The tide was so high that we could pole down the little brook that feeds the southernmost part of Rockland Harbor.  It was there, up in the reeds, that we found a huge military grade type fender.  Of course we dragged it out, found it still good, and brought it home.

Except on the way home somebody got the bright idea of riding it like a dolphin.  And I couldn't think of a single good reason to say no.  We were wearing life jackets and the water was calm and surprisingly warm for Maine.  We each took our turns.  We tried, we failed, we tried a different way.  Some did better than others.  All of us laughed til we couldn't laugh any harder.


What did we learn from this?  I guess I could explain it in a hundred different ways, but I'll never be able to quantify it.  I'll never justify the test we'll be able to ace because of this adventure.  I'm just certain down to my socks that this is how children are supposed to live on the coast of Maine in summer, in sunshine and salt water and sea air.  And joy.  Lots of joy.