Eagle River Descriptive Writing

Eagle River
No wifi. No Service. No way to connect to the outside world except through the ancient landline phone hanging on the wall labeled with the numbers of the Eagle River library, the home phone, and pizza take out. The door screeches open; the rustic smell of the cabin fills the air and the aged wooden floor gives a small creak when stepped on. The two cabins have room to hold three families at a time, however the quick race to claim the rooms soon begins. As always, the kids end up in the smaller, elder, red rustic cabin as the adults get the larger, quieter one. Every year I claim the biggest bedroom, that I don’t have to share! That leaves my brother and two younger cousins in the room that holds two bunk beds.
Two docks filled with every type of boat imaginable, canoe, kayak, row boat, paddle boat, and on. Smiling, warm water ripples as my toes dip in; my feet are greeted with the tickle of the small fish swimming right at the edge of the dock. Through the years, the swim to the raft on Sugar Maple Lake becomes shorter and shallower; and once on, my cool skin meets scorching wooden planks that have been laid out through the first months of summer. Chilly water is splashed up onto the raft as my grandfather’s boat pulls near, tube attached to the back. In the beginning, the
Forever. Forever. When it finally approaches, the children rush out of the cabin in their pajamas as I rush after them without shoes running along the wood decks that connect the two cabins. Thump, thump. The pounding of their fists surely have disrupted the deep sleep of the adults. My grandpa comes trudging over to the door to let us in. My cousins rush in and quickly knock on each door they find to wake everyone up. Because, of course, if they are awake everyone else has to be as well. When I turn on the small, plug in tv that we brought along for entertainment, I have finally distracted them enough to get my own