On a Contour Line

It is going to be a hot day and I don't feel like driving over to Rhode Island where I have been exploring some rivers that are new to me. I pick my place for the shade that I will get, at least during some of the trip. I put in on Pond Brook, back in the quiet sheltered cove that it has become. I'll head out and turn down river.

Before I reach the confluence with the Shephaug, I have spotted at least six Great Blue Herons. They seem to be preferring this spot just below Pond Brook. I spot a good number of fingerlings in the shallows along here. 

I take only one photo. I have taken this shot, or something like it, dozens and dozens of times. It is not because it is a particularly good setup. It is simple put, where I like to paddle. It is the edge - the boundary between open water and the forest, the line between light and shade. It is where the birds feed, where the animals come to get a drink, where the little fish thrive in the shallows.

I head downriver finding more shade than I expected. I tuck under the trees and follow the shoreline closely. It is not a natural shoreline. No matter how hard I look, I will not find evidence of an ancient fishing camp or even an old cabin. This shoreline is a contour line, one of those faint green lines on a topographic map that denotes constant elevation. The original river is some 70 feet down, with the old fishing camp, the cabin, the old trails and roads. There is a trail paralleling the shore for a short while, but it came after the dam. There is even an old stone wall that runs along the shore, but this is by chance as soon enough, it slips into the water. The shoreline is mostly cobbles and boulders, but it is not river rock. It might be the same geology as the river rock below, but this is glacial drift with the soil that held it for so long having been washed away. The glacier rounded it off and smoothed off the rough edges, but it hasn't been water polished and tumbled with sand like the stones in the old river bed. No one ever made a point of walking this shoreline until perhaps, the geologists, foresters and surveyors connected with the dam building came along. I think that I will plot my route on an old topo map when I get home.

I paddle down to the dam, losing the shade as the shoreline bends around. I cross above the dam and find more shade for my paddle back, crossing back over when the shade disappears.