The 1999 winter solstice moon coincided with the December full moon and lunar perigee, promising views of a very bright, very large last full moon of 1999. To take advantage of this rare concurrence of events a full moon night paddle was planned, venturing eastward on Maryland's Bodkin Creek to watch the moon rise over the Chesapeake Bay. An unexpectedly enthusiastic response to a night paddling invitation gathered 23 paddlers and their respective canoes and kayaks. Slipping our boats into Back Creek at sunset we dawdled our way out into Bodkin Creek and then out towards the open expanse of the bay to the east. The moon greeted us by rising huge and fiery orange-red over the Chesapeake.

We sat, rafted up in smaller groups, gently rising and falling on the swells as this misshapen orange orb slowly crept higher in the sky, gradually transforming into a more familiar object, casting a sparkling white path along the water's surface and illuminating every paddle drip like falling liquid diamonds.

Coasting back we encountered two late arriving paddlers, Dave and Frank, who, with little effort, convinced me to turn around and head back out to the mouth of the creek with them.

With their tandem canoe in the lead we ventured north around Frankie Point and south around Bodkin Point. At one point, spying a sandy beach behind the breakwater of a million dollar house we beached the boats to stretch our legs. Here we made a significant discovery - it was noticeably warmer on the water than on the land. With the ambient water temperature being much warmer than the air temperature we had been paddling through a layer of water-warmed air and hadn't realized just how chilly it was (27f) until we exited our boats.

Gazing at the coating of splash-ice building up on our gunwales we decided it was time to head in. Recalling an episode following a grueling, wind blown night paddle several years ago, in which I bumbled blindly along in the non-light of the new moon, taking five hours to lead us five miles, I also recollected that Dave had taken me aside shortly after reaching the take out and, throwing an arm around my shoulder, whispered confidentially that "If we are ever night paddling in an unfamiliar location again, let me lead. I'm a superb night navigator".

Heartened by the knowledge that I was being led by a "superb night navigator" I slipped in behind their canoe and we set off for the take out. Trailing behind, I became increasingly comforted by Dave's recollection of specific landmarks from the paddle out. None of this shoreline looked familiar to me, but Dave would frequently point out some sailboat, dock or waterfront Christmas display that he had noted when paddling out.

My recollection of the paddle out became increasingly hazy; I didn't remember passing this marina...or that enormous cigarette boat...and it didn't seem like it was this long a paddle on the way out. And all these coves and bifurcations, I don't remember these either. And another, even larger, marina...I must have been paying no attention at all on the way out. Well, it must be right around this point. No? It must be just up this cove. No? It can't be much further.

When we reached a point where there was no more creek to paddle up reality at last began to sink in - despite being led by a superb night navigator we must have passed the take out cove somehow. OK, we'll backtrack and paddle tight to the north shore, investigating every cove and backwater. It's gotta be there.

The backtracking paddle revealed little, except that nothing seemed very familiar from this direction either. Contingency plans were now under discussion; if we didn't find something familiar soon we'd beach the boats, find a road, get reoriented and, if necessary, hitchhike back to the trucks.

Eventually we rounded a point and could see, off in the distance, the bay at the mouth of Bodkin Creek from where we had started hours ago. Oh, over there, off to the left, that half mile wide and, one would think, quite obvious and noticeable opening must be Back Creek, where our take out would be found.

Arriving at the take out at 10:00 pm we found that our other paddling companions had long since departed. I understand that festivities at the take out included hot chocolate courtesy of Ken and Caroline and guitar playing and singing courtesy of Joel and Tony. I'm sorry to have missed it, but, truth be told, I can't think of a more fitting way to have concluded my paddling year than to have tacked on a few extra miles...courtesy of a superb night navigator.

We just love it when he gets lost. Mike McCrae seeks his lost can of mousse while aground from his usual paddling outings.