Moeller Commentary: A Pleasant Sunday Afternoon Well Spent

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For the recent celebration of Cinco de Mayo (which is, by coincidence, my day for natal observances), my son, daughter-in-law and myself took our kayaks to Ike Kinswa Park on Mayfield Lake. Ever since viewing the spot from an old canoe many years ago, where the Tilton River enters the lake, I’ve wanted to explore whatever might lie upstream. This was our first voyage of the summer and we were not disappointed.

The first part of the journey upstream is, frankly, not exciting. The river is wide, and the water is — or was — calm. After awhile, though, the banks began to slowly become steeper and closer together until you’re in a different world of tall rock banks with occasional waterfalls of various sizes alternating with woods consisting of evergreen and deciduous trees rising from fields of sword ferns. It’s not the sort of trip you would want to take alone; you need someone alongside to hear you say, “Oh, look at that!”

We paddled for an hour through this wonderland of nature and had reached a point where we could see the bottom of the river not too far below us and where this old man remembered that it was the first trip of the year and we still had to paddle all the way back to our starting place.  We weren’t the only paddlers — I counted at least 10 of us and there may have been more further upstream.

It was nearly perfect, except for those who were making the same trip in power boats of various sizes causing noises, wakes and rooster tails. Most, but not all of them, slowed down when passing us, but not slow enough to prevent a wake behind them which, unless one knows how to handle it, could be serious. I believe that the three of us were the only human beings wearing PFDs (life preservers) that day. As boaters, we’ve had one hard and fast rule: never leave the dock or haul anchor without wearing a PFD.        

And that brings up a thought that had to enter the minds of every one of us sitting close to the water in our light, but colorful, watercraft: wouldn’t it be great if there was one spot in our state that could be set aside for self-propelled — or even small sail propelled — craft, where the sound of an internal combustion engine could not be heard? 

Oh, Moeller, you dreamer. It’s more likely that we’d see a Starbucks or McDonalds on the banks of the river before that would happen. Still, nothing is impossible. Maybe if we could get an influential state legislator or two to paddle along with us one sunny day.        



Enough. In the process of dealing with words, I’ve found some curious things. For instance, there’s a phrase often used when someone achieves a goal while meeting heavy opposition along the way, “He (or she) ran the gauntlet.”  In my nearly 2,700 page Webster’s Dictionary, a gauntlet is a glove.

That word should have been “gantlet,” which Webster describes as “Two men facing each other and armed with clubs or other weapons with which they strike at an individual who is made to run between them.”  I’d much rather run a gauntlet than a gantlet though, wouldn’t you?

Then there’s the familiar bivalve used frequently in clam chowder: the geoduck. Have you ever heard it called anything but “gooeyduck”?  Obviously someone found the mispronunciation funny and it stuck.  Gooeyduck has even become a proper dictionary pronunciation.  You can probably think of similar examples, so why not email them to me at the address at the bottom of this column and I’ll pass them along.

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Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at bookmaven321@comcast.net.