Doing the Wash

As often happens in these parts, I talk for several minutes with a guy who is using his lunch break to drop a fishing hook in the river.  I give him a few tips on other places where I see people fishing, which is about all I know or care to know about fishing.  Then, I put in and paddle downstream.

It is a pleasant spring day with a bit of sun and, at times, a bit of high thin overcast.  The wind comes up the river but only at a level that is perfectly described as a cooling breeze.  The tide is out but as I am ten or more miles upstream from the sea, the water is only a foot or so lower than normal.  After a mile I turn into the narrow Selden Channel.  The channel defines a reasonably large island, a long rounded hump perhaps two hundred feet in elevation and a mile long.  About three quarters of its circumference is guarded by a wide barrier of cattail marsh.  Except on weekends, it tends to be an isolated experience.

I find a new beaver lodge. It looks like a bank burrow that has been built into the typical conical lodge.  The older lodge a 1/4 mile downstream has collapsed.  This is probably due to someone trapping that colony.  It seems to happen often in here.  I am not amused.

New beaver lodge

It seems to be a day to do the washing.  Aside from the usual bird life - a Great Egret, a few Great Blue Herons, some Vultures and the expected Osprey, there is little to draw my attention from the paddling.  Most of the side channels are shallow, but the Elf Forest has enough water to enter.  I haven't been in here at low tide before.  There is at least a foot of water and enough width to turn the canoe around, so it works.  It is one of my favorite spots in the channel, loaded with stunted and twisted trees and swamp grass hummocks.  I never see anyone else in here, probably because people tell themselves that it doesn't go anywhere... but I've learned that all places take you somewhere.

Entrance to the Elf Forest

At the bottom of the channel I take a long wide turn out into the big river to avoid the 2 or 3 acres of sand bar that forms here.  Then, I follow the shore of the island upstream.  It seems a slog without reason - the current is slack and the wind is at my back if blowing at all.  I decide it's just a big water thing.   I prefer the smaller more intimate streams as there is always something in my face to contemplate.  On the flip side, big water gets interesting when it gets scary.

And with that, the washing is done.