“Errrr.” My cell phone buzzed its final goodbye as I hit the send button on a text. The thought of no outside contact for three days was enough to put me in a sour mood. I closed my phone with unnecessary force and slid it safely inside my large green duffle bag, the one I always used for weekends such as this one. I stared blankly out my window as the large green mountains towered overhead. Here we go again, I thought to myself as we pulled off of the road onto a driveway, passing a large green sign that read: “Onoville Marina.” As always, my parents bought a large bag of ice at the ticket booth and I could not help but notice my dad’s eager expression. I started imaging the same expression on the young, carefree face of my dad 20 years ago. He had been coming to Lake Kinzua since he was in high school. He believed that it was the prettiest lake in the world and felt the need to share his prized possession with all of us. My two sisters and I thought otherwise.

Weaving through the large foliage covered mountains of northern Pennsylvania and western New York, Lake Kinzua always promises my family three things. First, there is no cell phone service unless you are sitting in the middle of the lake standing on top of the boat with your arm extended towards the sky. Second, there are no close cities or towns, and the population consists mostly of the Seneca Indians and the other boaters and campers at the marina, all over the age of forty. Finally, Lake Kinzua blesses us with rain almost ninety percent of the weekends in the summer, and when the sun is out, it rarely gets over seventy-five degrees.

After we unloaded all of our bags and food onto the boat, my dad announced it was time to head out since it was actually sunny out. I grabbed my life-vest and jump on the jet-ski and follow my dad driving the boat out of the marina. I loved the jet-ski; it was a fun little toy to hop on if sleeping or reading (normal activities on the boat because tanning and swimming usually was not an option) got too boring, which was pretty often. I sped off and enjoyed the warm sun beating down on my arms and legs, erasing the goose bumps I would normally have. I turned the jet-ski and jumped my dad’s wake, and as the clean water sprayed all around me as I landed, I did not have to force the smile that came to my face. I started to relax as all of the weeks work and stresses seemed to drift farther and farther away.

We tied up and anchored in a small cove, and my dad turned on his favorite boating music: Bruce Springsteen. We lounged in various places of the boat for most of the day until we heard a muffled rumble from behind the mountain. Looking up, and saw the familiar Kinzua storm clouds looming in the distance. My mood went spiraling downwards as I quickly helped my dad through the routine of covering the boat up as the rest of my family rushed to put things in the cabin. I snapped the last button as the rain exploded from the storm clouds that had quickly moved over our secluded bay. The storm passed quickly, but the rain continued coming down with no hint of stopping soon until our stomachs started calling for dinner. Not wanting to ride back in the rain, I securely tied the jet-ski to be towed to the back of the boat.
We slowly started the long journey back down the lake to the marina. I looked up, and to my surprise, saw the clouds starting to clear towards the horizon. The setting sun fought its way through the last of the gloomy grey clouds, turning them beautiful shades of orange, red, and purple. My dad jumped up from the steering wheel and pointed to something along the tree line. It was a bald eagle, flying gracefully off the shore.
The sight was truly breathtaking. I looked around at my family all gazing at the same sight and I started to realize something. My family was all together, healthy and happy. It is easy to forget how much I truly took for granted. I was lucky enough to be able to be away from the rest of the world, where my phone doesn’t go off every five minutes. I was able to see the world, without highways, gas stations, stores, and offices. I turned to my dad and said the only thing I could think of. “Thank you,” I said to him, and he did not need any explanation as to why.