Well that was a fine weekend, I must say.

The folks opted out- what with their electricity still being out- although personally I should have thought that if your electricity goes out (and this means that your TV goes out too, remember) you'd say "The heck with this!", lock up the old homestead and head for greener pastures. Possibly the folks have grown fond of sitting around in candlelight and staring at each other?

I should point out that some freak wind-storm blew through town last weekend, and knocked out power to at least twelve people I know, and also at work. The newspapers suggested that more people- possibly even a couple hundred thousand or so- also lost power, although myself I can't vouch for the veracity of that report. Turns out that Hurricane Ike struck Galveston TX or some shit, thereby knocking out power to Central Ohio.

Anyways, Myfanwi and I set sail Friday in the a.m. to sail to Middle Bass. We had a delightful wind for the first hour and a half or so, zipping along at six and a half knots. Sadly, we began to lose our wind, going slower and slower, till finally we had nothing left but slapping sails and banging spars. You can't get anywhere going 1.2 knots. We had to start the engine. And motor we did- I've never once been able to go all the way to the islands and back under sail alone, a fact which is sufficient by itself to disprove Leibniz' proposition that this is the best of all possible worlds.

We got to Burgundy Bay about four thirty or so, or sixteen thirty or so I should say- what a delightful little marina! Only about 30 boats or so, but how exquisitely charming! I tell Bob (the proprietor) as much, adding as how I'd never even so much as heard of the place before. "Well, you know, this is a private club.... We don't allow transients in... if it wasn't that you were here visiting the Rotheys, we wouldn't allow you in..." The dockage fee was a preposterously small $20.

Speaking of the Rotheys, Scott showed up shortly afterwards- he had seen us come in, and indeed had been jumping up and down on the shore. Myfanwi and I had confessed to each other that we were both secretly afraid that meeting the Rotheys might prove to be awkward, as neither of us had seen them in thirty years and although they had been a fixture in our childhood they were really our parents' friends, not ours. But Scott quickly dispelled such fears. My goodness, it's pretty clear why the folks liked the Rotheys. They are eminently likeable people.

Scott took us back to his place, an unbelievably beautiful cottage right on the lake, with views of Rattlesnake Island and Sugar Island. Martie showed up about then, and I even recognized her from my childhood! We had a fabulous dinner watching the sun set over the lake and talking about the half-forgotten figures of my past, Davey Bruck, Brian Sekora (with his gold tooth), the Trices, Pooftah, all the rest. The weather, apart from the lack of wind, was ideal. I wish my parents could have been there.

The way back was again plagued with windlessness. We left Saturday in the pm and motored to Huron, the first time I've ever come into a strange harbour after dark. The people in Huron proved to be snooty- no problem, fuck them, we're off bright and early. About Vermillion the breeze picked up, we spoke, we saw Capt. Rob, and we flew eastwards. We got home in time for me to drive Myfanwi to the airport in time.