Kayaking, Lost in the Moment.

Yesterday I went on my second kayaking trip of the year.  I went to what is officially called Twin Bridges on Hoover Reservoir.  It is a wonderful place to launch. It has a dock, and at least three concrete ramps that allow for easy launching. There are two bays are accessed by paddling under the bridges that are filled with a primitive natural beauty. A small island sits just to the south of the ramps. For the more adventurous you can follow the wide, winding water out to the lake, and paddle around there. It is a great little place to toss your boat in and have a quick spin.

Of course, sometimes it is such a nice place it resembles a freeway during rush hour. Boats lined up to get on or off the water, the passages filled with kayaks, canoes and fishing boats. Pontoon boats coming from the lake to take a leisurely spin amongst the small, paddle powered craft. I once saw a small sailboat, but it was sitting on one of the small beaches. The place is so enclosed that there is never much wind. 

Since I was kind of late yesterday there were not too many boats, and I had a lot of the place to myself. At least the parts that were farthest from the launch. Since the reservoir is used to control the water level downstream and we have had a lot of rain lately the water level was fairly high.  

It makes for interesting paddling, when you venture back under the bridges and go the extremes it is a swampy, surreal world of submerged, dying trees. It has a stark beauty, and it made me feel a little like an early explorer, as I paddled farther and deeper into the narrow, tree covered pass. Until I realized the trees were probably filled with spiders, ticks, maybe a few snakes, and I turned and paddled out into the clear open water where nothing lethal or parasitic could drop from above. And I realized early explorers didn’t have it easy, and wondered why they bothered, let somebody else do it, that’s my motto.

But, I do love to kayak. It is refreshing, relaxing, peaceful, there is a serenity on the water, when you are the motor, the rudder, the navigator. On the point where you leave the relatively small world of the Twin Bridges Boat Ramp and hit the open water somebody built a big house, and when I paddled past the dock a man was climbing on a paddle board.

“Gorgeous day to be on the water.” he said.

“My second trip this season.” I told him.

“You couldn’t have chosen better.” He said, paddling off, without a life vest into the sunshine and open water of the big lake. He was an older man, older than me, even. There was something regal in his manner, his indifference, his casual, friendly air. And it made me think I could kayak for several more years. 

It is an amazing mix of ages and types climbing into the shallow plastic boats, or standing on the boards, older, younger, families. And me.