Shipwrecked: A Summer Day At Camp Yorktown Beach

“This is are bus!” Our pastor said. So all of us went to the bus and pack our bags on the sides. Then that dude asked me to sit by him and I did. So when we got on the bus the pastor looked to see if everyone who signed up came, everyone did come.

Once the lake refilled their fun started with ease. Summer activities kicked off as the boat settled into the water.

“Bless the Lord, and long live the King!” cried Percival as he knelt down. Percival prayed for eleven hours before finally deciding it was time to board the boat, and he floated away.

For many people there is a sweet scent, an inviting image, the familiar sound of laughter that bring them back to a place full of childhood images. In “Once More to the Lake”, author E.B. White longs to bring his audience back to one of the most memorable places in his childhood, a camp on a lake in Maine, starting in about 1904. He shows the reader how he feels he has replaced his own father and is playing the same role he played nearly forty years earlier.

The Lake is the place to be on a hot summer day, but how is it supposed to be any fun when the lake is drying up each day.

“One warm day he disobeyed her and went swimming in the lake of the evil spirits. He could see no demons, but he did see many trout swimming about in the clear water. He swam and dived and had much fun all afternoon. He

My sister and I ran into the water, splashing and falling as we ran on the pebbles that carpeted the bottom of the lake. It was usually noon, the sun high in the sky creating diamond shimmers on the lake currents. After a day, the sun had already began to color in our cheeks with shades of red and scattering freckles under my

I lethargically began to move the oars across the glass of waters of Coleman Lake. The 12ft emerald row boat glides on top of the surface making its way to the opposite side of the lake. I continue rowing observing the breath taking views of this pristine lake, I swivel my head around and focus on these rustic cabins that are scattered around the lake, holding decades of memories with them as they start to sag towards me. I prop my oars up and reach around for the

But immediately he spoke to them and said, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.” 51 And he got into the boat with them, and the wind ceased. And they were utterly astounded, 52 for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts gwere

We slowly drove out to the faster speed limit part of the lake, once there I was given a small briefing about hand signals. Gracye’s Dad told me, “Thumb down means slower, thumb up means faster, and hand horizontal means perfect.” After the briefing we got our life jackets on and literally jumped from the boat to the tubes which were now almost out of reach, quickly trailing behind the boat. The rope attached to the tube was quicklypulled out very far and was tightly being pulled from behind the boat, me on the biggest tube in the middle and Gracye on the smaller one on the right of me. We got to a moderately fast pace for me and it ended up not being as frightening as I thought it would be. Her Dad had started picking up the speed by this time and I was beginning to get scared. I signaled to have him slow down and he ended up slowing down after five minutes, or so I thought, but he was just winding the boat up for a whip which while happening, I was holding on for dear life and I felt my life flash before my

I have made a lot of deliberate decisions and intentional choices while writing this memoir. While writing this memoir I recalled a lot of memories from an incident that happened to me on Virginia Beach in Chesapeake, Virginia. An incident that changed me forever, changed my feelings every time I pass by or go to any beach. It was three years ago when a friend of mine died drowning while we were on a boat. During the memoir I chose to be more implicit than explicit by giving enough details about the event that happened not just telling the reader. I have maintained to keep the essay more open and understandable to the reader.

Dad said, "Now close your eyes Son, and think of Jesus standing on a hill, His white robe gently blowing in the breeze, His arms reaching out toward you."

The wind was roaring as it led every strand of hair on my head in an intricate dance in every direction. The pleasant mixture of fish and salt drove me closer to the water’s edge where the lake’s opaque blue surface shimmered from the sun’s reflection. Waves crashed onto the shoreline slapping and dragging the sand further into the water. Canoes lined up across the shore begging to be paddled in the water. The red canoe was the one that caught my eye. So simple yet so powerful. Nothing sounds more comforting than being out on the water with your best friend and only a paddle, and a life vest. Little did I know that red canoe would turn out to be my most daunting obstacle.

At the end of the dock is a sign that reads; "No Fishing, No Swimming, No Dumping"; a sign that is quite often recognized by all visitors of parks and lakes and as big as the windshield. Around the lake there a hills and valleys around Lake Lavon. $200,00 home are springing up like mad. Retirees, former airline pilots, and people generally burned out on big cities are discovering Lake Lavon. The small lake but the perfect weather, and the safe-quiet atmosphere are drawing people like a cover-up draws Ed Bradly. Without thought or hesitation we smiled and warmly held ourselves in each other arms and slowly sat down together at the end of the dock, put out feet in the water and the water was so cool like melted water from snow (to eat the strawberries we brought). The strawberries were delicious; red, ripped, and plumped; sweetness caressed our mouth with very bite. Some were quite sour, but was washed it away by an ocean of water every time. As supplies ran short she decided to play lazy and had me carry her to watch the people fishing by the dock. Although very distinctive and precise, I was like a bear; very step was heavy and short. To the left side of the dock about 200ft people ware fishing and kid's playing soccer on the field near the lake. By watching them play I remember my childhood, that my mother always took me to the Lake Lavon every weekend to fishing, and now I'm with my girlfriend holding her hand and watching people fishing and