Killing Time

With a couple hundred pounds of gear piled up at the end of the dock, waiting for the Beaver to pick us up and ferry us into bear camp, the clock ticked. We had about forty-five minutes, and the usual Sea Otters that keep us entertained weren’t around. Watching the second hand tick away the moments isn’t my thing. At times like this, I look for subjects to occupy my mind. On another dock was a Beaver tied up between flights. The colors of the Beaver, its reflection, and the sky instantly grabbed my attention. The only real challenge was its movements from the wakes in the water. But I had time to wait and found it a simple way of killing time.