No, I've not become the skipper of the SS Shokai, nor did I jump in to a random boat to pose for a hammy, "Hey, look at my me!" picture. That's me piloting my friend Jeff's boat up on Lake Santeelah in North Carolina.

I've been up on the lake the past several days, which is why I haven't been blogging lately (I'm typing this on Monday night, but will back date it to Saturday for continuity reasons). Lake Santeelah is nestled right up against the Great Smoky Mountains in western North Carolina, a beautiful spot to spend the long July 4th weekend.

I first discovered the lake in the late 90s while exploring backpacking trails with a former girlfriend, Beth. One day at lunch with some co-workers, Jeff told me that he was looking to invest in some lakefront vacation property, but couldn't find a suitable place in Georgia. I told him about Lake Santeelah and he went up there the very next weekend, and he turned out to be the right guy at the right place at the right time, and lucked in to the opportunity to buy a former hunting lodge on a spectacular and mostly undeveloped lake.

That was 1999.

I've been going up there weekends from time to time and visiting Jeff ever since (he still lives in Atlanta - it's just a weekend getaway). However, Friday night he called me and announced that he had sold the lodge - the closing is this Wednesday - and did I want to come up for the last weekend?

Life has changed for the both of us since 1999: I became a Buddhist, he became a husband. We both have changed jobs since that lunch at which we discussed the lake, and his requires lots of travel. So much, in fact, that he found himself torn between life on the road, life at the lodge, and life with the wife (that's not to say that the wife doesn't go to the lodge with him; the problem was in coming back from five-day business trips only to hop in the car for a four-hour drive up to the mountains).

Anyway, I headed up for the Last Weekend on Saturday morning and hung out with him and his wife (her name's Karina), Karina's friend Rita, and Rita's son. At one point in the afternoon, Jeff took off onto the lake on a jet ski with the son, and I followed taking the ladies along on his inboard. Karina snapped the picture of me; Rita's shoulder is visible off to my side.

It was a great weekend of fun in the sun, boating and Buddhists on jet skis (well, me). There's a little bit of sadness in the passing of an era (no more lakehouse), but also a reminder of impermanence. Nothing lasts forever, so when you're ferrying two lovely ladies across a beautiful mountain lake on a clear summer day you might as well take a picture - it'll last longer, as they say, but nothing lasts forever.