Today's dawn comes slowly to the marsh. Heavy clouds will prevent the sun from showing, even at the horizon where there often is an orange glow for at least a few minutes.
I spot a heron against the cattails, it's back turned to me, an unusual stance and perhaps one brought about by the safety of early morning darkness. I flush a snipe from the north end of the east marsh, a goose bobs it's head, a warning to me as I pass by it's mate. I note that even in the gray calm of this morning, the dead cattails still glow in warm tones, looking warmer than I would actually find them.
I head north, up the west islands, grabbing a big block of foam as I pass through broken island, passing the west lodge, and paddling up Ravenna Creek. It is only a very few days each year that I can make it up this creek. It is choked by wood with downed trees laying bank to bank. If the water is too high, I can't get under what I need to get under, and if it is too low, I can't get over or around what lays in the water. Even here, because it is a bit of a ditch, there are things to see. I pass a flicker nest, some ducks, and all along the creek are beaver trails and gnawings.
Morning has arrived bringing a south wind with it. I head back south and not yet ready to end, I go east to Potlatch Point, just to see if I can make it down the big lake. The tall waving poplars hint that it might not go, but I make the trip anyway, just to see if there is a wind shadow for me to paddle in. But, the big lake is whitecaps, and I can't use the wind shadow, I can't paddle 10 ft from shore or wade the bank like I could in a remote lake. Not here where a long dock is required to keep pace with the Jones'.
1 day ago