Authors note: This is another chapter of a novel which chronicles the life and adventures of the main character, Liam. All other names are fictitious. This is mainly a life story with some erotica included so if you're looking for wall to wall sex this isn't for you. Hope you enjoy reading it.
The bright sunlight blinded me for a second when I first cracked open my eyes. Once my eyes adjusted to it, I groggily, glanced over at the alarm clock, five after seven. I couldn't believe that I had slept that late.
I could hear Aunt Jean stirring in the kitchen and smell the enticing aroma of the coffee brewing. I lay there for a second before dressing and joining her in the kitchen.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she cheerfully greeted me.
"Good morning, I haven't slept that late in a long time," I replied.
"Here have some coffee while I fix us some breakfast," she said.
A cup of steaming hot coffee later, I asked, "So what's on the agenda today?"
"Well, first, I'd like to go over to a client of mines place and pick up a picnic table he made for me as a gift, so I'm glad you brought Tom's old truck," she replied, adding, "And then, we'll take a boat ride to one of my favorite places."
After breakfast, we drove to her friend's home, picked up the table and returned. By the time we had unloaded the table it was nine thirty.
"Let's put the table over there next to the other one. It'll be so nice to have the extra seating when I have a bar-be-q," she directed. "Would you fill the cooler with drinks and ice and get the boat ready while I pack a lunch, William?" she asked.
"Sure," I replied.
After filling the cooler, I took it down to the boat.
I topped off the gas tank from a spare can, emptied the bilge, and picked up a few pebbles that lay on the floorboard. Taking the pebbles, I flung them out toward a patch of lily pads. When they hit the water a half dozen sunfish darted out from underneath and into the clear water. Not a cloud in the sky and warming up nicely, it was a beautiful day.
"It's a perfect day for a boat ride. The water is as clear as glass," she said as she handed me the picnic basket.
"Yes, just perfect," I replied.
As I untied the boat and pushed away from the dock, she said, "We'll go back towards the marina."
The 30 horsepower Evinrude engine started on the first pull and we were on our way towards the marina, barely visible about a half mile down the lake. When we approached the marina, she directed me, "See the bridge to the right of the marina. We'll go under it."
Even though we had several feet of headroom, we both ducked our heads as we went under the old steel structure.
"This creek is my favorite part of the whole flowage," she said.
It was wide to be called a creek, probably two hundred feet across. The banks on both sides were steep walls of sandstone, ranging from twenty to fifty feet high. The creek meandered for about a quarter mile, one breathtaking sight after another before it opened into a large bay.
"Keep to the right. It's shallow out in the bay," she instructed.
The creek turned ninety degrees to the right. Now the sheer cliffs were on the right side with a low bank on the left, a mixed pine/hardwood forest on both sides.
The channel continued another quarter mile or so before opening into another large bay. We waved to a couple of fishermen in a boat along the back of the bay.
After crossing the bay, the channel turned again. The land flattened out, still heavily forested. As we continued some several miles the creek meandered through the pristine wilderness which we had completely to ourselves. The creek became much narrower and the steep cliffs returned. Large boulders could be seen on the bottom under the crystal clear water.
Noticing that the water was getting shallower in places, I idled the engine and went to the back of the boat, releasing the motor tilt lock.
"How far are we going to go?" I asked.
"Just a little further," she replied.
The creek became much narrower now, only thirty feet or so wide and shallower.
"Looks like there is a rapids ahead," I stated.
"Yes, we'll have to stop the outboard motor, get out and pull the boat," she replied.
After shutting down the motor, I paddled the boat up to the start of the rapids.
"Keep your tennis shoes on," my aunt said, stepping out of the boat herself into the water.
The strong current of cold, but fortunately not frigid water, rushed past our legs. A few minutes later we had cleared the rapids and entered a small pond. I was surprised that the cold water didn't seem to faze her.
Pointing to the left, Aunt Jean said, "We'll pull the boat over there."
I pulled the boat over to the edge of a large flat boulder and tied the anchor line to a tree.
"We call this the Flat Rock," she informed me, adding, "We'll take the cooler and picnic basket up there and spread out the blanket."
She climbed up onto the rock which was about four feet above the water and I handed her the stuff.
