Picture Post: Camping & Fishing
Wednesday night, we fetched Tim's canoe, before coming back to finish packing. We had an uneventful drive to the peninsula, barring the turkey in the field. We found a campsite free and settled in for the evening. After the shrieking children quit, we noticed the eerie silence. I chopped up some firewood that Keith had found, into smaller pieces and soon we had dinner. I fell asleep on the cot beside the fire for a while, but woke up as it got colder, seeking refuge in the tent.
Thursday morning, we broke down the fishing/boating gear to the tune of a marching thunderstorm coming off the bay. Keith wanted to launch from the creek and work our way down to the lake, but I had a fuzzy memory of that being a long way. We argued for a bit, over breakfast, and decided to break down camp. We finished as it began to drizzle, then drove down to the lake. Where it was not drizzling.
After some fumbling around, we headed out onto the lake in the canoe. There was a fierce wake where the river fed into the lake, that swept into a marshy area full of submerged trees. Keith hadn't ever gone canoeing, so I took point and he was quick to catch on to things like "turn", "pull", "hard to", "reverse" as we headed up the twisty river, full of sunken trees, rocks, marshy bits, eddies and hidden cross currents. Our best estimate, we went about a mile up before heading back (and only got lost in a branching marsh, once).
We fished for a bit and while I only had some nibbles, Keith caught one. It's all good. We saw loads of canada geese, orioles, shore birds, dragonflies, beaver dams and a few great herons. Once, we were behind two geese, who began to honk in steadily increasing panic, until looking back at us, they took off. The honked at us again when we came back and the entire flock, hidden in the marsh, joined in. Another time, when we were tied off, an oriole took position about four feet above Keith's head and began scolding him for, I dunno, being under his tree.
It had been thundering, on and off, for most the day and finally began to drizzle around 2pm. We paused at the mouth of the river for a bit, and, yeah, got caught in the wake. Trying to escape it, we managed to run aground in the middle of a very deep lake, on a partially submerged tree/branch. The front of the canoe actually lifted out of the water. It takes special skill, yeah? I managed to lever my oar underneath, against it, while Keith reverse paddled and we broke free. Then we had to cut through that current, pulling so hard left that the canoe rolled to the right (which is normal under that strain, but still left me leery). We made it back, packed up and headed home.
The Little Engine that Could could.
In which I do ballet with an axe.
If I were a completionist, there would be fuzzy things stuck in the loops of my hat.
A pretty stretch of the river.
Beaver damage.
Keith's fish.
Thursday morning, we broke down the fishing/boating gear to the tune of a marching thunderstorm coming off the bay. Keith wanted to launch from the creek and work our way down to the lake, but I had a fuzzy memory of that being a long way. We argued for a bit, over breakfast, and decided to break down camp. We finished as it began to drizzle, then drove down to the lake. Where it was not drizzling.
After some fumbling around, we headed out onto the lake in the canoe. There was a fierce wake where the river fed into the lake, that swept into a marshy area full of submerged trees. Keith hadn't ever gone canoeing, so I took point and he was quick to catch on to things like "turn", "pull", "hard to", "reverse" as we headed up the twisty river, full of sunken trees, rocks, marshy bits, eddies and hidden cross currents. Our best estimate, we went about a mile up before heading back (and only got lost in a branching marsh, once).
We fished for a bit and while I only had some nibbles, Keith caught one. It's all good. We saw loads of canada geese, orioles, shore birds, dragonflies, beaver dams and a few great herons. Once, we were behind two geese, who began to honk in steadily increasing panic, until looking back at us, they took off. The honked at us again when we came back and the entire flock, hidden in the marsh, joined in. Another time, when we were tied off, an oriole took position about four feet above Keith's head and began scolding him for, I dunno, being under his tree.
It had been thundering, on and off, for most the day and finally began to drizzle around 2pm. We paused at the mouth of the river for a bit, and, yeah, got caught in the wake. Trying to escape it, we managed to run aground in the middle of a very deep lake, on a partially submerged tree/branch. The front of the canoe actually lifted out of the water. It takes special skill, yeah? I managed to lever my oar underneath, against it, while Keith reverse paddled and we broke free. Then we had to cut through that current, pulling so hard left that the canoe rolled to the right (which is normal under that strain, but still left me leery). We made it back, packed up and headed home.
The Little Engine that Could could.
In which I do ballet with an axe.
If I were a completionist, there would be fuzzy things stuck in the loops of my hat.
A pretty stretch of the river.
Beaver damage.
Keith's fish.