8:45 am. David and I got to the lake between 9:30 and 10:00 last night, almost exactly four hours after we left Santa Rosa. By the time we got here I was almost relaxed. Okay, I was almost asleep — but definitely in better shape than when I left. I don't think I even started to feel as if I was on vacation until we hit Interstate 80 at Cordelia. So by the time we got to Redding, at least we were both singing along with Garth Brooks on the powerful stereo in the big red truck.
Only six of us slept on the boat last night. That will change as people start arriving for the weekend. It was atypically chilly and breezy overnight, and it took me most of the night to figure out how to block the wind out of my sleeping bag. I was already huddled inside the bag to get away from the whirring of bats' wings. Bats don't scare me, but there must have been a hundred of them flapping back and forth under the canopy on the roof of the houseboat, where I'd set up my sleeping bag. They definitely got my attention.
Since it was dark when we got here, I couldn't fully appreciate the beauty of Shasta Lake — and how different it is from my everyday life — until I woke up and saw it spread out in front of me. (And just a tiny portion of it, at that.)