Today, I head out just to make my rounds, just to keep track of the goings on in the marsh. I have a couple of brief chats with folk as I make the two mile portage down to Portage Bay. There, I take in as much of the "natural" shoreline as the shallow water will allow. All of the beaver lodges seem to tower in the low winter waters. I find several clear beaver trails east of the Portage Bay lodge.
Once in Union Bay, I head north, getting out on one of the tiny islands near the west lodge. There is an old metal barrel here, been here for years, and I'm tired of it. I roll it and stand it on end so the water inside can run out of a small hole. I'll move it on the next trip. A piece of firmness under my right foot disappears as I fetch my camera from the canoe. I go thigh deep. Now my pants need to be washed as much as I do.
The alders 50 ft south of here, on the main shore, are getting a workout. The beaver have cut two large ones and are working on two more. It is a natural clear-cut of sorts. I find it nice to see them taking on such big projects. I hear two eagles whistle/chirping at each other 200 yards south.
Back in the canoe, I find and pull a very old truck tire from the water. It is model T vintage, 3 feet in diameter and skinny like a motorcycle tire. It's possible that it has been in the water for 80 years or so. These old tires are strange to handle. They feel organic, with a gumminess to the touch. They are pre-nylon/rayon/dacron, so the cord fibers have rotted leaving a limp circular mass. This one dumps a quart or two of swamp water into the canoe as I wrestle it. (Brand - United States Tire)
When I reach the north point, I decide to head home across the bay. The sun comes out, brilliant and warm on my south facing side, even warmer feeling with a cold breeze from the north. The contrast in temperature is invigorating, somehow.
There has been nothing remarkable about the trip, unless one finds the shear beauty of the marsh and all that goes on there remarkable.
hope springs eternal
5 days ago
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