In the 60s. Impossible to resist getting out on the river.

One thing I appreciate about being out in the middle of Potomac in the winter is how much vibrant birdlife there is and how much the different flocks relate to each other. They are also incredibly restless and not at all comfortable with the sight of a human being standing up and paddling a plank of plastic.

Paddling into the sunrise with mottled clouds overhead, I could not see into the water and the skeg got caught on a rock, lurching me forward a few steps and almost tossing me into the soup.

Really cold soup.
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