Boat Launch Ritual

Several times a week J and I take our dogs to the South End Boat Launch in Bath, on the Kennebec River. Our old lab is arthritic and walks with difficulty, but he sheds the years once he’s in the water, swimming out enthusiastically after a tossed frisbee. While this is going on our other dog, a Standard Schnauzer, noses around to her heart’s content. She’ll occasionally deign to chase a frisbee, if there’s a treat in the offing.

Even in the dead of winter, when the dock is disassembled and no boats are going into the water, people seem drawn to the boat launch. Often, when we arrive there will be a car or two parked at the base of the launch, facing the river, engines idling if the weather’s especially cold. No one gets out. They are there, seemingly, just for the privilege and pleasure of staring at the Kennebec. And then there are the cars that turn off of Washington Street into the parking lot, circle around to the launch and without stopping head back out the other side of the parking lot and go on their way again. I can’t figure these people out. I frequently complain to my husband about them, because when I see a car pulling in I need to grab the wayward Schnauzer and wait with her until the car leaves. If they want to see the river, then stop and see the river. But why just circle through? My husband claims to find nothing strange in this behavior. He says he’d be tempted to do the same thing if he was driving by, just swing through to acknowledge the Kennebec. An almost spiritual sort of ritual, it seems to me. A brief connection with this huge natural power. Something to take back out on to the road with you.