I recently ran across something that I had written several years ago, "What if the meaning of life is to keep wondering what the meaning of life is." This morning I was reading a profile of a novelist, someone I've never read, and someone whose name I can't remember. From the profile, I got the idea that the two of us might think alike about lot of things. Which means, if we ever meet, we will either love each other, or hate each other. But, the profile jogged me into thinking about exploration, and curiosity. And that is what that first line about the meaning of life was about, curiosity... what if the meaning of life is to stay curious. I am an engineer that became an artist. Or, maybe I was an artist who unwittingly became an engineer, and then ended up where I belonged. But, in both of those fields, the people that I count as friends are, by nature, curious. Those friends continue to examine, seek out, explore and experiment as a way of life. They've managed families, careers and a score of other big obligations and still remain curious about some thing, many things, the world.
I needed an exploration, and if it wasn't going to be an all new place to me, then it needed to be someplace that I haven't seen recently. I put in on the Somersville Mill Pond. It's been at least two years since I was last here, maybe three. The Scantic River runs through the pond. It is 38 miles of narrow river that is mostly difficult to access, and when you can access it, the distance that you can travel without canoe wrestling is limited. There is a large Bald Eagle perched in a tree where the river enters the pond. I take it as a good sign.
The pond has a thick layer of algae and frog moss, except for the 30 ft wide clear channel where the current, which is very minimal, moves. It surprises me how little current is necessary to clear a path in the pond. As soon as I hit the river, teh pond scum goes away. Dipping a finger in the water, I am surprised by how cool it is. Near the first bridge, I spot some fish darting below. They like the cool water, they're active and moving with speed.
This river can be a bear to get up. Narrow as it is, storms often drop trees that cross the river blocking the passage or requiring step-overs or limbos. I get one narrow step-over before I reach the old beaver pond. There is no hint of the dam that once held the pond. Usually, beaver dam ruins last for quite some time - years or decades. The old pond is lush. It is in a post-beaver pond stage. The water is down a foot or so and a new and thick growth of shrubs and other wetland plants are filling in the higher spots while the cattails hold their own at the water's edge. I take the round about river-left channel, which is open and easy paddling.
Above the former beaver pond the river meanders tightly. Fortunately, local paddlers have been in here and the old problematic deadfalls have all been cut. I takes one easy wade to make it up to the second bridge. It gets even tighter above the second bridge, but the going is easy. I get up to my former high point, a series of tight bends next to a hobby farm with a few horses. Looking ahead, I spot a couple of two foot diameter deadfalls at the next bend. The river is pretty narrow and often shallow at this point and without some beaver ponding, there's no point in continuing.
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