The Shot.

The past couple of weeks I have been staying in a picturesque RV park along the banks of the beautiful Flambeau River, nestled in the sleepy paper mill town of Park Falls, Wisconsin just down the road from the rolling hills and lush greenery of Park Falls, Country Club, and best of all, only a thirty-minute walk to Mom’s house.

Yay mom!

Not only did Mom spring for the 2 weeks of camping fees that gave me the time to explore this beautiful region of Our Country and allowing me the perfect opportunity to get

The Shot, but she also set out on a mission to fatten me up before the next treacherous leg of my adventure; steaks, lobster, chicken, even her famous oven cooked jalapeno-infused brisket, that’s right, BRISKET…and she makes the best brisket in The Country, sorry Aaron Franklin, but it’s true; and then of course my favorite; hamburgersteak+noodles

(lots of butter) which also happened to be my Grandpa Lutz's favorite dish when Grandma K wasn’t home.

Speaking of ‘Favorites’, one of my favorite memories as a kid was sitting on the living room floor of my mom’s parent’s house, while I waited for 6:30 in the P.M. to flash red on the digital faux wood & black bedside clock that my grandparents kept on the nearby side-table, for it was at this exact moment that one of my Grandparents would turn on the big wood box

RCA TV so I could watch re-runs of Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie, and man did I have a crush on Samantha, even as a little kid!

She was the Reese Witherspoon of the 60’s!

And Jeannie…oh double-man.

It was there, in that spot, the shag green carpet worn down just a little beneath my perch as I sat Indian Style (can you say that today?) under my Grandparents maple coffee table, the one with tool box size storage compartments on either side that were the perfect de-clutter places to hide away the cribbage board, dominoes, playing cards, Yahtzee game and the ever-present Rubik’s Cube, that I would eat Grandpa’s favorite meal (and mine!),

the aforementioned hamburgersteak+noodles (lots of butter) and stare transfixed for an hour as I watched the shows and the women that would help shape my life-long quest to find my own

blonde-genie-witch-semi-perfect-edgy-sharp-witted-beautiful-spirited-wife-partner…

I love the 70’s!

Park Falls, Wisconsin.

My Grandparents hometown.

Where my mom’s side of the family has had roots since the 1880’s.

Kundinger Road.

The Hunting Cabin.

Where many family memories were made for me as a kid, and now, where some new ones were made.

The Shot.

I call it, ‘The Shot’ because with all of the pictures I have taken in my life (many of which I do believe to be pretty bad-ass if I do say so myself) it is this ONE, the one I took this crisp, 50-degree early morning while kayaking on the Flambeau just before sunrise, which I think is my best ever.

The Set Up.

Every morning since I have been here, I have looked out along the banks of the Flambeau from my Airstream, at the near glass-like surface of the river water, and after a few days I began to envision taking a kayak up river during the wee hours of the morning to catch the sunrise around a bend just to my North a mile or so away. I could see in my mind the mist of the water rising up, the sun cresting the hills to the East, casting its light magically across the water, creating reflections of sky and clouds and pine trees and marsh reeds.

I could see it clearly.

So, yesterday I borrowed my mother’s best friends kayak (it’s pink, thank you Erin) and set out around 5:00 in the AM to try my luck at capturing my vision.

Dragging “Pinkie” ¼ mile through Hines Park towards the boat landing wasn’t so bad as my energy was raised by the near perfect conditions I had hoped for.

The timing was going to be right on the money.

I could feel it!

Carpe Diem!

Sliding Pinkie into the rust colored but clear water, rust color courtesy of the rocks made brownish-red from the copper mines upstream, I realized one important fact;

I wasn’t going anywhere without the paddle.

F*CK!

Are you shittin’ me?

Wearing flip flops, I sprinted (OK, jogged laboriously) back to my campsite the ¼ mile I just walked, and grabbed the paddle I had left behind, the one that was leaning against the tree right next to where Pinkie was just a few minutes ago…

I then, ahem, sprinted back to the kayak and frantically loaded up my gear and launched into the water.

Man, if I miss this shot by a few minutes...

I paddle furiously North.

The sky is turning brighter.

There is no breeze.

No sound except that of a few birds singing their morning songs.

It’s the very definition of tranquil.

But still, did I miss my window of opportunity?

That bend in the river is a mile away, best-case, and I have to get around it to have the angle facing East which I am hoping for.

I paddle faster.

I think of banjos.

I see myself in a black life-vest, paddling away from the gunshots and the chaos of

"Squeal Like a Pig!"

Man, Burt Reynolds was a bad ass, but Ned Beatty, poor guy.

I channel Burt's energy.

I’m gonna’ make it after all!

I got this.

And I do.

I make the bend about 20 minutes before the sun is going to crest.

Hell yeah.

Then I see it.

A stump in the water.

The stump of a Grand Old Cypress of a hundred years, past.

And what is that on top of it? A bird-house?

That’s pretty cool, I think.

Then it dawns on me (pun intended).

The sunlight will reflect off of the North East-facing side of the stump, it’s light likely creating a glow off of the antique wood of the long dead tree, and if I get really lucky a reflection of it all off of the water.

Now I am getting excited.

Now I have to figure out how to paddle to the spot to not only get the correct angle for the shot, but to also make sure I am set up in enough time to allow the ripples of the water to echo far enough away so that the glassy surface can return and mirror my subject.

Anxiety sets in.

Will I pull it off?

Yes.

I still got this.

I paddle, casting the high cain spoon bow of the kayak first East and South past my subject, then a left turn to the North to get the reverse light angle, and finally South again, facing my subject, the kayak settling in softly and with little surface disturbance.

10 minutes of not moving a muscle for fear of making waves.

Nailed it.

Perfect.

Man, I am amazing! Look at me! See! I am man! I created Fire!

Cue image of Tom Hanks on that island from that little movie he did.

Wait. What is that I am hearing? Geese flying in from the North?

Ohhhh Nellie!

Wouldn’t it be cool if I could catch them flying overhead during the shot!

Wow.

Pulitzer ceremony here I come.

Closer now. This is going to be so great!

Hang on. Wait.

No. No. no, no, no…

Do NOT LAND NEAR HERE!

NOOOOO!!!!!

SPLASH!

Ripples.

No, WAVES.

Oh, no no no no no no.

Closer, the disturbance comes.

Encroaching.

The sun is perfect,

my angle is perfect.

The ripples, no WAVES haven’t reached me yet.

Click.

Click.

Click. The Shot.

I paddle back towards my little slice of heaven that is Hines Park and to my Airstream.

I really think I captured it, I tell myself.

I pull into the boat landing.

Drag Pinkie up.

Set the paddle down.

Sit down and breath in.

Calm.

Peace.

Happiness.

I drag Pinkie back the ¼ mile through the grounds of the park.

Man, that triple shot lavender-hunny-cinnamon-dusted-latte is going to taste amazing!

Setting Pinkie down I realize I missed something.

The Paddle.

I trudge back the ¼ mile towards the boat launch…

Smiling all the way.

-S.C. Sanders

8-7-20