Seeking Out Stories

It sounded like something out of a summer camp scene in The Parent Trap. My hosts had been filling me in on what would happen the next day, but coming from the everyday realities of Africa, the concept seemed as foreign to me as the streets of San Francisco had been a week earlier. But I’d quickly become accustomed to being stunned by the city’s friendly nature, so much so that it had been tough to leave for rural northern California.

And so tales of Echo Lakes Day and its promises of log rolling and races on the crystalline waters of Lake Echo, would have to be given temporary credence. Still, I’d been regaled with stories of lake traditions to the point that I wasn't sure I’d be able to sleep with excitement...

But right now, in the cool August evening on the eve of the gathering, the water belonged only to the residents of the lake and their fortunate guests.

Not even a hint of motor hum could be heard, as per Candlelight Parade rules – only non-motorised watercraft may participate. It gave the crisp night a magical air as I sat in the kayak, swaddled in a borrowed jacket (it gets chilly out on the water, I was warned by concerned pseudo-parental hosts).

My fellow passengers, old hands at the oars after many summers at Echo (cabins on the shoreline and surrounding land are generally passed down through families, and almost never sold to outsiders), were firm: I was not to paddle. I was to look after the drinks, to be consumed in the later hours after the very young and older members of the lake party were safely back on land.

The camaraderie was almost tangible as we made our way out onto Lake Echo, a bright moon giving almost as much light as the party we were joining in the lake's centre. Boats and assorted watercraft comfortably bumped up against each other, some festooned with garlands of fairy lights, others with lanterns skimming their beams over bright faces. Tomorrow's celebrations would be loud, excitable, but tonight was all about reunion. A time to renew kinships that date back generations; to gather as a community coming home for the summer.

Smothered squeals pierced the air as the younger children caught sight of playmates, smoothed by the murmured undercurrent of adults catching up on news of the past year. The main float was a beacon, a jubilant display of candlelight and colour beckoning more craft as they approached. The spirit of the lake would be felt in tomorrow’s sunshine, but tonight? Tonight was when she showed her soul.