The hills are filled with signs of spring. We’ve got a pair of mountain bluebirds eyeing our back yard for a nesting site. We have a birdhouse that has accommodated bluebirds in the past and we’re hoping they’ll take up residence. We’ve also seen western tanagers, who add a bit more color to the neighborhood. There are daffodils blooming and a few other signs of spring. We’ve had a few spring showers, but right now the hills are dry and we’re hoping for more precipitation. The first big fire of the season is burning south of us, with most of the smoke blowing away from us, but we still are beginning to eye the horizon and sniff the air with a bit of suspicion. The dry pine needles crackle under food when we walk in the woods.

Yesterday morning I participated in one of my rites of spring. I headed out at daybreak with a canoe. I’ve been paddling for several weeks, but yesterday was the first time to take out a canoe this year. I paddle kayaks in the shoulder season because they are warm once you slide into the cockpit. Kayaks are lovely boats and have their place in my style of paddling, but they don’t give the sense of freedom and joy that I find in an open boat.

I really didn’t paddle that much yesterday. I just dropped my canoe in the lake and paddled up the inlet. I paid a visit to some beavers that I’ve been watching for several years. They weren’t alarmed enough to even slap their tails at me. They just dove underwater when I approached and surfaced after I went past. With the low rainfall, the inlet to the lake is running slow and before long I cam to a fallen tree that for many years has been the end of my upstream paddling. I suppose that if I got out and carried my canoe over the log I could continue for a while, but it wouldn’t be long before the boat was bigger than the little stream that feeds the lake.

I like paddling in the reeds and cattails that line the stream. There is a sense of privacy that doesn’t exist on the open lake. Sight lines are shorter and you tend to notice things that are closer to you than is the case when paddling on the lake.

The canoe I paddled yesterday is new. I’ve had it for just over a year and it is beginning its second season of paddling. I bought it specifically for paddling creeks and rivers. It is shot with lots of rocker and turns very quickly. It is fun to play with because I can change direction quickly. It is a good boat for early season paddles because it has lots of freeboard and it provides a very dry place for the paddler to kneel. I’ve equipped this canoe with a foam saddle, knee pads and knee and thigh straps so that it fits me snugly. If i turn the lower half of my body, the canoe turns with me. The position is quite different from a kayak, where i sit, but the sensation of wearing the boat as opposed to sitting in the boat is similar to a kayak. The boat responds to my movements The chine on the boat is a gentle curve, so it heels over without feeling at all tippy. I paddle with a beaver tail paddle with this boat, as opposed to my usual otter tail. The wider paddle blade means that the boat really responds to the paddle, but its movements are bigger than the subtle control I feel with a longer boat and a freestyle paddle. I’ve yet to tackle real whitewater in this boat, something I hope to do this summer.

Yesterday was a day for a lazy spring paddle, however. I had the lake to myself. At least the geese, ducks beavers and shore birds didn’t seem to mind sharing it with me. They all keep their distance, knowing that I’m not much of a photographer with gloves on. With only one paddle in the boat, I needed to be careful to have things organized when I took a picture. The procedure was to carefully set down my paddle, placing it in the boat or across the gunwales so it wouldn’t fall out. Then I removed my right glove, pulled out the camera and took a picture. That gave the geese plenty of time to increase their distance from the boat and the beaver time to hide entirely. Even his wake in the water was gone by the time I got the camera out.

Some days are for just experiencing. I don’t really need photographs to remind me of the feel of the boat beneath my knees or the paddle in my hand. I really enjoy spring paddling. The chill of the air, the sense of being alone on the lake, and the freedom of the boat that will go anywhere I direct it are very pleasant sensations.

There is a kind of joke among boaters that having a boat brings with it a desire to have a bigger boat. This seems to be really the case with motor boats. Bigger, faster, more capable all have their appeal at a boat show. My motto, however, has been, “if your boat is too small, you need a smaller lake.” Exploring the nooks and crannies of the lake at a slow pace has its advantages. This is my 21st year of exploring Sheridan Lake. I know its shape well. If it isn’t windy, I can paddle across the lake to a specific point in the dark. I have a sense of its moods and flavors. I know where the beavers like to build their lodges and which places they go onto the shore. I know which snags are preferred by the eagles and where the ducks and geese like to nest. I know where the fishermen congregate on summer mornings and the sound of the wind in the trees in the afternoon.

Still there is always something new to discover, something wonderful to experience. I don’t think I would be bored with another couple of decades of paddling on the same lake.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.