Countdown

3 (Memories)... 2 (Wishes) ... 1 (Thank You)

The days around New Year’s are renown for their count downs, everything from top ten songs of the year to the ball descending in Times Square. Despite how silly some of these countdowns can be, the end of one year and the beginning of another is a reasonable time for recounting, recollecting, and recognizing the moments that have gathered together to make the year just lived and to make, if not resolutions for the year ahead, at least the spark of hopes for what it might bring. So, with the lighted tower of ice now toppled, and the new year just begun, here are my 3 memories, 2 wishes, and one thank you.

3 (Memories)

It was a year of northern lights. On October 15, 2024, the sun officially reached “solar maximum,” the peak of the 11-year solar cycle and a time of high potential for northern lights. So, it is not surprising that two of my three memories of this year’s boating season have to do with the aurora.

The first was a night of whirling movement - big waves drumming the shore, a restless wind swinging the trees. Add to that the 740 mile an hour spin of the earth, its 67,000 mile an hour orbiting around the sun, and then reach up a finger and swirl a skyful of northern lights and it is not too difficult to understand why I felt untethered, off-balance that night alone on the beach.

Then, I stepped straight into a small creek flowing through it all.

Instantly, I felt the tug of the current pushing against my boots, the vibration of the water through the sand like wind strumming the pine needles..

It was like stepping on to a dance floor with music I’ve always known was there but never truly heard, acknowledging and accepting motion as the true state of existence. The stars spun. The waves crashed. My breath moved in and out of my lungs like the wind.

I clicked the shutter and crawled out of the stream to sit on the beach, gripping the Earth with my hands, digging my feet into the sand, looking for an anchor to hold me to the earth. Alone in the dark, swept up in the dance, I sat still under the aurora trying to catch my breath in the dark.

And the second was, a swim among the stars.

I had not planned on getting off the boat, only lying flat on my back on the deck, hands clasped behind my head, and drifting like a lake-bound cloud. And I did that, for a long time. But the calmness of the water, so still that the stars reflected as if gazing down at themselves in the still surface, the warmth of the night, and the nudge of another dream took hold.

The lake was calm as someone sleeping. The water was warmer than the air. And, above me the sky was dancing with aurora borealis, the northern lights.

So, I slipped into my wetsuit, climbed down the ladder, and swam among the stars.

Number three is a more of a family moment: no photograph except the one etched in our souls. A hot summer day. Both of our daughters Katelyn and Hannah were home for a visit, a swim, and time aboard the Little Dipper. The feeling is best summed up in a question Katelyn asked after a swim off the boat, arms around everyone, wind blowing through her hair as we came up on plane in the West Channel heading for home: “Who’s happy?” she asked with a smile. And with the other smiles I saw shining back at her, the answer, I think, is clear.

2 (Wishes)

America's Public Lands

This one maybe should be higher: numbers like 85 million (the number of acres managed by the National Park Service) or 193 million (the number of acres managed by the U.S. Forest Service, some 8.5% of the total land area of the country) or even 245 million (the acres managed by our largest land managing agency, the Bureau of Land Management). But the two wishes are enough, if only we would heed them.

First, I wish for the American people to fully realize what an incredible resource we have in our public land system. Our parks and forests and wilderness areas are the crown jewels of the country, and the envy of the rest of the world. They are a reflection of our soul as a nation.

Recent political rhetoric about “drill, baby, drill” and a slashing of budgets for land managing agencies at the same time that the environmental regulations meant to protect those lands are to be cut, is a kind of national political terrorism. Can these lands be managed at times more efficiently? Of course. Can we be sure that funds are spent wisely and used efficiently? Absolutely. But we must always tread carefully in taking care of places like national parks and wilderness areas. They are beautiful. They are fragile. They are irreplaceable.

So, my second wish is for those who lead this battle cry against our public lands, and perhaps all of us, to recall the mandate for the National Park Service in its 1916 Organic Act “to conserve the scenery and the natural and historic objects and the wildlife therein and to provide for the enjoyment of the same in such manner and by such means as will leave them unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations.”

“Future generations” not just the short-sightedness of the now. That, not dollar signs or barrels of oil, should be the only measure of our success in managing our national parks. Before every decision made on our public lands, that mandate should be read, re-read, and honored by all.

1 (Thank You)

Finally, one simple “thank you.” Since I began this journey, over 600 subscribers have come aboard the Little Dipper sharing the northern lights, the early morning swims, and the historical and, at times, political side trips. It has been great having you aboard. Thank you to the many paid subscribers who keep this venture afloat. If you are currently a free subscriber, please consider chipping in, even the Little Dipper needs gas money now and then.

Now, buckle your lifejacket and hold on while we power up and head for the horizon towards whatever the New Year brings.

— Jeff Rennicke (all photography by the author unless otherwise noted).

What is your 3, 2 ,1 for the year just gone by? Send me a message below and let me know.