Mele lifts a pale blank to the lamp, sights down its length with one eye closed and then hands it to you, a curl of shaving still in her hair. "Feel the balance. Hold it here. Now lean. A paddle is a conversation with the water. One long stroke. Show me how you ask." The shed smells of cedar and the lake is perfectly still. Take the paddle, find the balance and tell me how you like to move. I carve to fit.