As soon as the last family member departs after the holidays, my thoughts turn to a New Year’s Paddle About. It’s that time when I am reminded of why I choose to live on the Island. Even in early January, there are blue-sky days when the water looks like glass reflecting a cloudless sky. Yes, wetsuit is required, if only due to the possible dunking in less than warm gulf waters. The wind was light, the summer crowds were back home watching football, and Offats Bayou belonged to the few die-hard Islanders. I headed for my favorite waterfront neighbor, which I call Pilot Co-Pilot. The two main streets are named this because local aircraft buzz overhead landing and taking off from the nearby municipal airport. Most of the houses sport boat houses complete with fishing docks. My favorites have boat houses painted to match the main house. There is a Jamaican-mon pink house and boat house, a beachy aqua house with boat house to match, and then scrunched in between you will find an occasional old-school simple unpainted wooden beach house with a pier for fishing. I often wonder if they really catch fish right in their own backyard. Some have underwater lights that attract all manner of underwater creatures during the night, I imagine. Maybe I should paddle back at nightfall with a rod?

After sharing a snack of healthy sea-salt and vinegar chips with the local gulls, I started back for the marina. The only sounds beside the gulls calling for food, and my paddle slipping into the water, was a mild slapping of the waves on the side of the kayak. As the causeway bridge came into view, it felt eerily as if I were watching the distant traffic from a different century, where all that was required to enjoy the island was a paddle and a primitive sit-on-top kayak. The cars in the distance seemed to be in such a hurry to get to the place I live every day. Truly blessed.

So many times the power boats overtake me, throwing their wakes in my direction. My little baby blue board and I take it all in stride, it just adds a little challenge to the journey. The horn blasted from the Moody Gardens’ Colonel Paddlewheel Boat, reminding me that I did have to use some caution when traversing the ship channel. It was time to paddle a little harder, that beautiful blue three-story house that marks my marina was looking warm and inviting as the sun sunk lower and the wind picked up. When I arrived back, Bill Cochrane, marina owner was out checking on his returning boaters. We exchanged wishes for a prosperous healthy new year, and he shared a surprise with me. Little did I know, he is an author as well. After working for the Galveston Daily News for fifty years, he has retired to write his memoirs. Having seven marriages in his life journey, and now one of the most successful marinas on the island, his memoirs will be worth the read I think.