Going wild and chilling out aren't mutually exclusive vacation pursuits, at least not at The Birches Resort on Moosehead Lake in Rockwood, Maine, where rustic and comfortable also co-exist quite nicely. My fondest memory of our July 2002 stay in one of the resort's 15 log cabins is of our moonlight kayaking adventure, which, in keeping with all of the property's unexpected contrasts, proved to be one of the most stress-free and peaceful evenings of my life, in spite of the fact that it was my first time in a kayak!

I'll confess up front--it was a tandem kayak. And while I paddled valiantly as we first set out on Moosehead Lake's calm waters, I soon realized that my husband, an experienced kayaker, could keep up with our guide, Bill Murphy, quite adeptly with or without my added paddle power. This gave me license to simply observe and listen and contemplate.

The silhouette of Mt. Kineo, situated in the middle of the lake, stood boldly against a layer cake sky with whipped tangerine frosting topping layers of pale blue cake and dense, dark mousse clouds. As the day's light dwindled, the cloud layers became even more pronounced, hanging still in the air like the great puffs of smoke that linger after a fireworks show, evidence of the colorful spectacle that has just taken place. Bruce's steady strokes and my occasional dangle of the paddle etched geometric patterns across the blackness of the gentle water. A pair of herons flew overhead, racing the darkening sky. The first star popped out, and, of course, I made a wish.

I listened intently as I studied our surroundings. Motorboats disturbed the serenity of our hour-and-a-half journey only twice, so I was able to really hear wild Maine--from the crunches of unseen critters ambling along the forested shore to the distinctive call of the loon. Much of Moosehead Lake and the land that surrounds it is state-owned and protected from development.

Mostly, I contemplated. Was the loon's cry unequivocally sorrowful, or was there sometimes a hopeful, if despondent, edge to its trill? Was Murphy, a licensed Maine Guide for sea kayaking and whitewater rafting who entertained us throughout the trip with his insightful banter, dead on when he remarked, "The civility and the gentleness of this world are gone, and I am struggling with it"?

I was still pondering his statement when we returned to our cozy log cabin, and I immediately grabbed my notebook to scribble it down… even before finding a sweatshirt. Quiet contemplation must generate a lot of internal steam because I didn't realize how cold my skin was until we were back on shore.

Bruce lit a fire in our stone fire pit outside the cabin and we sat in the Adirondack chairs on our porch and... sat. If you knew me, you'd know that I never just sit. Sit and read. Sit and clip coupons. Sit and answer emails, maybe. But just sit--never! Frenzy is my constant companion. Perhaps, I thought, "he" was responsible for edging out gentleness and civility.

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