A Day at Lake Benmore

English 1.4 By Luke Smith

Frost coats the grass like a blanket, and ducks are shivering as they bob and splash on the water. The crunch of boots against the frigid grass resembles that of the first bite of a crisp new apple. Fighting off the shroud of cold, crispy bacon is being fried, causing both steam and its divine aroma to gently waft into the air, attracting kids rushing from their tents, and ducks waddling like penguins onto the shore.

A gentle breeze drifts through the campsite, rippling through the air, and causing hanging towels to sway rhythmically. Towering trees shake gently, dancing in unison, and the scarlet leaves begin to float down, some reaching the glassy surface of the lake. The loud spluttering of engines serves as a wake-up call to many campers still asleep, as boats head out, excited for the chance to catch the prize they are all longing for. The sun begins to slip over the mountains, playing peek-a-boo as clouds drift over it, and providing the warmth that nature craves.

The ducks now bask in the radiance of the sun, reducing their screeches to muffled quacks, and across the water where they silently bob, the other side of the campsite is visible: An array of multicolored tents and caravans, with some boats both big and small, wedged in between them like books on a shelf. Residents of all ages are walking around, tending to their jobs, or having a snack, some even risking a dip in the bone-chilling water. Perched on the deep blue lake, a bright green trampoline stands out, and so do the kids screaming as they bounce off it, shattering the lake’s glassy surface and creating ripples that make it all the way to the pebble showered shore.

Dust rises above the bank like a swarm of flies, as cars and trucks whizz down the dirt road, hurrying down to set up their gear and get on the water. Newcomers to this special place are now a common occurrence, as this secret slice of heaven is now not so secret. Lake Benmore in the morning is a spectacular array of mountains in the back and a shimmering lake, complemented by the auburn trees that veer over it.

Now the once visible mountains and trees in the background are veiled by the dismal night sky, a blanket, covering up discarded toys. Lamps and lanterns hum in the tent drawing in all kinds of bugs and flies, and also lighting up the faces of everyone enjoying a comforting drink. The last few ducks wade into the water and silently drift away, now only the memory of their screeches lingering in the air. Earlier filled with life and energy, the lake is a statue now, completely still and deafeningly silent. Clinks and clangs echo through the campsite, all the pots and pans are being cleaned and put away for tomorrow.

A whistling shriek pierces the absence of activity, as a gust of wind picks up and rattles the tent, shaking the contents inside. Rustling violently, the trees resemble tornadoes as their branches spin and shake in a wild flurry, sending leaves all across the campground and onto the lake. Only the inside of the tent provides any sort of comfort from the commotion outside, housing many people of all shapes and sizes, all seeking refuge from the storm. Suddenly, as quickly as it had arrived, the menace disappears, now leaving complete and utter silence in its departure. The aggressive shaking of the trees has calmed down to a rhythmic rustle, and the lake has returned to its glassy state.

With the clouds now gone, a spectacular array of stars and constellations are visible, full of awe and wonder. Standing out, the luminous moon is the centerpiece of a crown arrayed with gems, providing a blanket of dim light over the campgrounds, and a stunning reflection of the lake. Now viewable in the background, the giant mountains loom over the lake, carved into the earth like a sculpture.

Benmore is a special place, full of surprises as the day transitions into night.