There I was at the pier, darkness falling rapidly, visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, and I hurriedly tossed my only kinetic thrust engine onto the pier, preparatory to disembarking. Then I grasped the tie rope firmly in my hand, stood up, and began to shift my weight from the boat onto the pier. I moved too fast, or maybe it was too slow. The boat rocked beneath me, and to keep my balance, I settled back down into the boat so I could catch my balance and try once more. There are tides in the affairs of men which, when grasped at their flood, can carry us upward to heights beyond our wildest dreams.
Snow Lake is a small lake, and the tide is small too.
It was nonetheless appreciable that the tides in the affairs of men were flooding just then. They were flooding OUT into the lake. I was riding that outward bound flood in my little yacht. One glance behind me, two glances behind me, even three glances behind me, and I did not see one shred of beauty remaining on Snow Lake. No, as it dawned on me that I was heading out to that darkened sea, terror gripped my soul.