Land! At long last, I have reached land! I was certain that the swimming would finish me; that my arms and legs would snap off, rent apart by the mighty tides and the weight of the water ahead. But at long last, I have reached land, and at this moment I can imagine no sweeter embrace than that of the mud and sand beneath me.
Allow me to explain.
This morning I was trekking across Owasco, making great time as I picked my way through the sprawl that has come to characterize the Mainland. I came upon a great body of water, one so vast that it stretched all the way to the horizon.
At first, I was elated, for I thought that I had reached the northern sea, and that I was now ready to make my way towards the northern continent where Darkmere lurks. But according to my compass, the stars, and my maps, I was much too far south.
Also, the water was fresh, not salty.
I had encountered no ocean, but a mere freshwater lake.
But what a lake! I sought to travel around it, but it seemed like a great wide hole in the middle of the Mainland, preventing me from going northwest, which was my intended direction. I traveled west for some time, but there seemed to be no way around it. I flew up, and I began to see how truly wide the lake was.
Clearly, the only way ahead was by crossing the lake.
Which of course, brings us to the boat.
It sat there, innocently enough, brightly colored and loosely tied to its moorings by a short length of white rope. It dawned on me that the boat was inadequately bound, and that it could easily be stolen, and so I did what anyone in my situation would have done.
I began to carefully look about for the boat's owner, so as to inform him of his vessel's insecure anchorage. I circled his house twice, carefully looking into all of its windows, so as to identify the owner, whom I was sure I would know on sight. I crept quietly, so as not to disturb any occupant of the house who might be sleeping, but no-one was home.
After this, I again considered the boat. It floated gently in the placid waters, looking as if the very wind might blow it away from its dock. I decided that I had no choice but to set the matter right, and so I made my way down to the dock, again moving as quietly as I could, so as not to disturb any of the neighbors, who at this time of the morning would no doubt still be sleeping.
I drew closer to the rope fixture, and I could see that it was indeed slipshod. I attempted to right this, by tightening the knot, but it was so poorly designed that it came apart in my hands. I could see that the boat would drift away in the wind, so I leapt, quietly, onto its deck. That way, at least I could prevent it from washing away by steering it towards the shore. But what next?
I decided that the only decent thing to do would be to sail the boat to the nearest sufficiently equipped port, and there to purchase a new rope and use it to re-fasten the pleasant vessel to its rightful owner's dock. I could only assume that the nearest such affair was on the other side of the lake, for I could see nothing of the sort on my side. Additionally, several weeks of adventuring had taught me to trust my explorer's instincts.
And that was the situation as I settled into the delightfully appointed deck-seat and brought my hands down upon the rudder, at which point the boat informed me that I was not the proper owner, and it flung me into the sky at breakneck pace.
It is only by the grace of the creator that I survived my sky-ward arc, and the subsequent plummeting of my person into the lake's icy depths. I would like to meet the man who owned that boat, for I believe it to be defective. Plummeting passengers into the water is not the general behavior of boats where I come from, and as you can immagine, I very urgently wish to inform that gentleman of his machine's great flaw.
In the meantime, I have an island to explore. It looks to be largely uninhabited, covered with trees and devoid of people, but I shall explore it none-the-less. I have come to learn that Mainland sims tend to be either overdeveloped to the point of extreme duress, or else naked and devoid of any human activity or interest whatsoever. This isle appears to be land of the latter variety, but time will tell whether this pine-studded shore holds any secrets. For now, I must rest.