Glittering sunlight bathed the world below it in shades of gold. The smell of stagnant water and juniper lingered in the air. Gleaming water flowed into Lake Billy Chinook from the Deschutes, Crooked and Metolius Rivers, mixing together to form a long ended valley full of ultramarine agua that was often much too cold to swim in; But I did not care. Splash.  Euphonious sounds of laughter and boat engines running rings through the valley, bringing nothing but a colossal smile much too large for my face. Towering hills encircled the long ended lake before me. The in-submersible docks soared in its watery domain. The aged wood creaked and cracked with every step I took.  Bright red flip-flops, shielding my feet from the slivers and splinters the wood would provide below me, flapped against the rolling baby blue cooler being trailed behind me. Towels dyed in brilliant yellows and pinks brimmed the dazzling turquoise beach tote that I grasped in my left hand.

I passed boats of abounding sizes and colors, ranging from a quaint fishing boat to a full sized slide brandishing triple pontoon boat with two motors. But there is one I was looking for in particular. My family and I paraded ourselves down the 200 feet of dock dawning our flip-flops and swimsuit cover ups just as a model would flaunt their newly designed garments on a runway. Often laughing and talking as the five of us made our way to the special boat. At last we reached our destination. A silver and navy blue 1980-something pontoon boat floating in the slip right smack in the middle of the second to last dock in the marina. The blue and grey freckled carpet looked cracked and hard from years of usage.  The off-white and baby blue seats looked worn but cozy. It was the utmost beautiful sight to see on that occasion. I placed the tote on the bobbing fun-o-craft weighing the nose of it down closer to the water.

Although the men of the family took to work on the craft, lifting the doors for everyone else to get on and putting robust loads in their rightful places, along with checking the engine and disengaging the ropes from use; The women cleaned and prepared the boat to be in use. We put towels on the scorching hot leather seats, making sure not one person would burn their bum because of the heat.

Soon after the boat was unmoored from the anchored dock we were surging down the long ended lake at a whopping 25 miles an hour, shattering the utter silence around us with George Strait and engine groans. Occasionally a fish would fly out of the water and plunge back in within a couple seconds, and you would miss it if you were not looking at the green water surrounding you. As for me, I existed predominantly in the back seat, consuming all the food in sight, and painting my body in a light sheet of sunscreen. Uncle John perched himself in the driver’s seat with regal confidence, adjusting the speed and turning the wheel  to avoid spacious boulders lodged pointless in the water.

However, Joleen had taken to  resting herself upon one of the comfy benches towards the anterior end of the craft. My dad leaned against the seat I was currently in, looking behind us at the wake just to check that all was well. He had on a baby blue shirt with words much too faded to understand what they meant, covering his legs were his infamous black and white board shorts that matched his baseball cap covering his full head of hair and protecting his easily burned face. Aunt Rhonda sat next to me with her arm around my covered shoulders, her outfit would have seemed bizarre to anyone who did not know her personally. Her freshly painted toes were framed by the bright blue flip-flops. She had on a pair of brown swim trunks over her beautifully patterned one piece swimsuit; And to top it all off, her black sunglasses covered her face along with the golf hat she had on over her mop of short gorgeous brown hair. She is one of my favorite people in the world because she would walk to the back of the boat lend out her hand and ask to dance with me, and I cannot dance to save my life.
15 minutes into our musically enticed trip down the middle of the lake we came up to Perry South, the “cool” hangout spot for my great aunt and uncles friends who owned property down in the heart of Oregon at the great Lake Billy Chinook. The cove consists of a pole to tie up on and lots of open water to swim in. I would know, because once I got into the water it took what seemed like years to get me out of it. Water isolated a little nook inside of my evergrowing heart and rooted itself in my soul. Its silence below its crashing exterior seemed calm and reassuring. I always felt a pull to be a part of the lake not just floating on the surface. To be one with the element. As we slowed to five miles an hour, I got unreasonably excited to see my favorite swimming spot.
It took a lot of work to tie up to the pole on the edge of the water and fling the burdensome anchor as far as we could into the now 30 foot deep water, but my dad and uncle John had a great system worked between them. And within a few minutes  the  ropes were tied up to the pole and we knew that they were not being removed anytime soon.

In the five minutes that had gone by, I, a typical teenager, was eating and looking out at the water. Curiosity bubbled in my brain, making me wonder how cold the water was exactly. It could not have been too cold, the air was 94 degrees and steadily climbing. While everyone settled onto the boat, grabbing cold beverages and a towel, I slipped my large shirt off my torso and slithered my feet out of my flip flops and made my way to the open ended part of the boat staring out at all the water before me. My breath caught in my throat and I leaped as off the boat into a tight streamlined dive. Splash.

Cold.

That is all I felt as I dove deeper into the listless depths of the unmoving lake.  Deeper into the world of darkness. Into the world of silence. I knew I could escape into my own personal solitude being submerged under the surface for less than a minute, but it was better than nothing.  Bubbles of oxygen floated around me and raced towards the surface 10 feet above me, racing away with my stress. Through the murky waters I looked up, and the already caught breath in my throat escaped. Light waltzed through the water with stunning beams, gracefully bouncing and weaving it’s way through the cloudy liquid. I closed my eyes. To accept myself. Because I was alone with myself at that point, I thought of the problems that seemed to be as big as the world itself assumed the size of a small child’s index finger as I treaded in the depths. Answers to my worst obstacles grew easier to discern; And at last I was at peace in my world full of loud distress.

The loud, anxious thoughts that had plagued my mind since I had left Pendleton dispersed into their own reserved state of normalcy. With every gentle rolling wave that washed over me, angst and age trickled off instead of dirt. Allowing me to resemble the child I was supposed to be, a little 14 year old girl, not a 30 year old woman I had been forced to be.

I hoisted my arms and kicked upwards, towards the surface. Pulling for life above me. As my face broke into the air above me, my thinking developed a fluffy lively surface, allowing my emotions to subside to a dull point in my mind’s peripheral vision.  A fish surfaced next to me and flipped itself back into the water, but I stayed and watched as numerous boats coasted into the cove and tie onto the boat and create a chain of about 8 boats.
Rambunctious music played from boats on either end of the boat, ranging from Billie Holiday to Justin Bieber, which was regularly booed and adjusted to a contrasting song. Shimmying and shaking was isolated to one or two boats. The benches  were more often than not taken up by groups of folks talking about how wacky life is and every encounter they have ever had. Paddleboards glided athwart the water, sailing towards no distinct haven. Air replete mattresses and chairs sat on the water holding the people who just wanted to bask in the glow of the impressive aubade and float.

All of this endured for eight hours on end. Everyone adored every second of it. Pranks were pulled, memories were made and then we pile back into our designated crafts and motor off back towards the docks; With every intention to repeat the day again.

We laugh and enjoy the propinquity of family and dance to the Beach Boys on the golden beams of the setting sun, and yearn for the day would not to end.