We put in on the Couderay side of the channel here in Northwoods Beach. Elv had loaded the Pelican right side up on a trailer earlier so all we had to do was to back it in to the water and let the canoe scoot off in the lake, me holding the rope while standing on the dock. The forget-me-not flowers on the landing were gloriously adding their bits of periwinkle and gold to our adventure.
The water was up a little in answer to the lovely summer breeze. We headed south out of the bay straight across the lake the wind in our faces and that lovely little wake off the back. There is nothing quite like a summer day lake ride in the Pelican. I love the choppy water and the spray and everything about it. Elv is careful so I lean into it fully.
We had to putter west up the other shore till we got to the bridge we were looking for where the lake connects with Little Couderay. Elv slowed it way down as the bottom came into view. Clear and shallow there under the bridge. Memories of playing in the shallows of our river at home always come to mind. The fat Red Horse were darting back and forth there. If they were not so quick, you could pick them right out of the water. We mused out loud again about catching a few in a net to can up in jars for fish patties. Another time later maybe. It's one of those promises we make to ourselves for when we have more time. The future is rich.
Crossing Little Couderay is shorter. We head across again angling south and mostly west to find another bridge under which we quietly putter past the "no wake" sign and into the Billy Boy flowage.
We scared up two herons just by drifting by. I caught the one just before lift off.
Lately I've noticed that a burdened mind/heart is full of stress. It soon becomes a convoluted mess of hard-to-solve questions. Problems loom larger than reality and it is difficult to think properly. Worries and frustrations get bigger than they should. I notice that great solutions never come of fear and doubt. We think we are so knowledgeable and smart and godly that we can think our way through these things on our own. We do. We try it.
That's a promise.
An island of red pine in a large swamp became our picnic spot. We nosed the canoe into shore and climbed up the grassy knoll and spread out our picnic there. Life, as we know it, seems far away and unreal when tucked away so, the only eyes and ears, God's, for miles around. We sat and savored until the bugs found us. I wish it could have been longer. Next time we'll take bug barriers.