Out on the lake the wind whips up the waves, sending out kayaks bobbing crazily up and down. Behind the protection of the islands, all is calm. It makes for a strange contrast: cold and warm, effortless and effortful. The body is pitted against itself and against the wind, the movement of the water, all stronger than our pitiful arms. Yet it is exhilarating: water in our faces, our clothes soaked through, the warmth of the intermittent sun, the motion of the water, the incessant pull and thrust, the relentlessness of it all. We see islands, the interplay of light and shadow on the hills in the distance, the glistening of the water. We grow tired and cold, yet the spirit is never dampened.