Another short cruise – maybe forty minutes – brought us to the shores of tiny Hope Island. We snagged the only available buoy and set out to circumnavigate our home for the night. This did not take long.
Landing on the southern shore, we walked every trail, explored every nook and still covered less than three miles.
After getting lost in the campground (don’t ask) we came across the old farmstead, now the caretaker’s residence.
If you look carefully at the information panel above, you will see that half the house has disappeared.The restored windmill.Notice that the tree in the right foreground has (or had) branches almost to ground level, but the ones behind do not. During the farming days, this tree was likely by itself in a field. No need to race for the sky, just start sprouting branches and drink in the sweet, sweet sunlight.This tree reminds me of how I’ve been feeling lately.The Hope Island wildlife seems to have never acquired a fear of humans. This little guy was about three feet away happily noshing on his pine one.So cute that I had to include two photos.I took this photo because I like the criss-cross pattern where the bark meets the roots.
A great find, Hope Island. Close enough to reach by kayak, nice camping sites, well-maintained walking paths. Buoys are few, less than the guidebook indicates, but anchorage is good and plentiful.
