It’s always been a part of me, that kindred spirit to the outdoors; the desire for adventure and to explore, especially around moving water. Now on the front side of a Spring Break from school, and after five months of a constant flow of Joe Robinet YouTube videos, I had the opportunity to venture forth. So far our staff at school has put in 122 school days of teaching to both the in-school students as well as to the remote learners; teaching to both groups at the same time each day for six periods in a row. We need a break to catch our breath and decompress before finishing out the final two months.
The first couple of days of Spring looked to be the nicest for dry weather and what could be deemed as warm air for the end of March. I decided to go on an outdoor adventure in an area that is about as close to “The Middle of Nowhere” as you can find in and around where I live. It's pretty wild, and sort of forgotten as most places go, which is why I love it. The bottomlands and waterways are near and dear to my heart, which is also why I try to visit it as often as possible. This would be the first time that I would visit while on an overnight canoe trip with my old aluminum canoe loaded with gear. I figured that I would camp alongside a chosen riverbank somewhere along the way where I could refresh my spirit while making a kindred connection to the moving waters and its surrounding environment.
Cindy was encouraging when I got bogged down while preparing my equipment. Sometimes I get stuck between that desire for wanting to do something and a paralyzing fear that it won’t work, it will be too difficult, or it’s just not worth it. Often this feeling occurs before I head out on a solo adventure. I don’t have the latest & greatest gear, but what I do have is good and efficient. It was more than what I could fit into my kayak and be safe, however, so after some debate I opted to venture forth in my beat up, $10 canoe. Dad spotted it in a garage sale several decades ago, and it’s been a great “barge” for many outings with various friends and family over the years. With its luxurious cargo space, I wouldn’t have to worry about having room for my tent, sleeping bag, and a small bag of clothes and food. I could bring what I needed, pack it tight, and still have room; giving me a necessary peace of mind. Assurance was something I needed in order to maneuver the river and its obstacle of downfalls.
Early on it was the strong wind out of the South that proved to be my worthy adversary. While it provided warmth, so that I only needed a long sleeved shirt, I had to battle the wind’s strength when it pushed up rolling waves and wanted to drive my canoe contrary to where I needed it to go. I depended heavily upon my paddle while using the currents to help provide the dexterity that was required to shoot between trees sticking up out of the surface.
I started in the early afternoon, after Cindy dropped me off, so that I could have ample time to paddle and explore before setting up camp prior to night fall. As I paddled, I spotted an eagle’s nest. I got out of the canoe, and snuck as close as I dared possible to remain undetected and yet still get a picture. Once I continued on, I realized that after traveling the next couple of bends, I would flow directly underneath the massive nest of sticks. At the same time I saw a mink exploring along the bank. I chose to free float for a few minutes, and managed to get a couple of pictures despite the mink’s constant movement, before drifting under the eagle nest. I finished, and got the camera put away a split second before I was blasted by the wind to such a degree that I had to dig my paddle in and pull hard to avoid hitting some submerged logs and being driven back upstream.
CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO THAT
TRACKS ME ON A FEW BENDS IN THE RIVER:
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at the bottom of the page.)
After two hours I found a perfect side channel to paddle up into and set up my tent on a grassy bank. I managed to even cut up a small stack of dried maple for firewood before the sun set. For dinner I heated up beef stew and made biscuit-cakes fried in butter. I washed it down with a cup of hot cocoa. Once dark, the stars screamed their presence as they were more numerous than the chorus of hidden spring peepers croaking in the water filled marsh grasses. I loved seeing the stark outline of Orion the Hunter, his belt, and the corresponding stars of Betelgeuse (shoulder) and Rigel (at his knee). Much like the constellations of Cassiopeia the Queen, and the Big & Little Dipper, I always feel a kindred relationship to these formations and seek them out whenever possible. Despite the light off from the quarter moon, I could also see Orion’s bow as well as his dog, Canis Major, trailing behind him with one of the brightest stars in the night sky (Sirius) located at the dog’s neck.
CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO THAT RECORDS
YIPPING COYOTES-HONKING GEESE & A GNAWING BEAVER
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Orion The Hunter-Just below The Moon
I was in my tent by 9:00 where I read and wrote in my journal for a spell before turning off my headlamp. I then tucked down into my sleeping bag with our old wool blanket wrapped up and around me; using it as both a pad and a cover. After having run 10 miles that morning, packing, and then paddling, I was tired!
Burning Energy On A 10 Mile Run Before Packing
Sleep was intermittent but good. I was relaxed, but there was so much going on around me that I didn’t want to miss out on experiencing it all. Every few hours various packs of coyotes (Canis latrans) yipped and howled to the North, South, and East. Great horned owls called over the backwater bottomlands in their muffled booms, while barred owls asked who had been doing my cooking between hair-raising laughing and cackling. The beavers that had been at work in the channel beside me moaned while gnawing on trees; occasionally slapping their tails in alarm. With my ear pressed to the ground over my thin pillow, I could hear the hopping leaps of the mice around my tent as they bounded through the dried grass and investigated the intrusion within their territory.
Earlier in the evening I had heard and seen mallards, the sharp designs of the wood duck, and squadrons of Canadian geese. By morning I had also heard the rattling croaks of sandhill cranes and turkeys gobbling at the sunrise before flying down out of their lofty roosts.
I went out at the first rays of light, when the birds began their succession of calls, to capture in pictures the colors of the sky. The beaver, probably tired after a night of chewing twigs, swam past me and out into the main channel of the river. I also saw three raccoons along the far bank, as well as another mink that was running at full speed as if it had forgotten something or was late for an appointment.
CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF THE SOUNDS OF
MORNING BIRDS & GREAT HORNED OWLS:
(To watch the videos you may need to change the "view version"
at the bottom of the page.)
It felt good to simply stand in place and listen to the water moving amongst the myriad sounds of nature. It was inspiring. In fact, although it took a while, I eventually forced myself back to my tent to both read and journal before a deer tick slowly made its way over my wool blanket. That was enough to jump start me into action! After checking through my gear and not finding any others, I broke down my camp, began to pack gear into my canoe, and started a fire for breakfast. While I was cutting up the potatoes and sausage, a muskrat swam past me and under the grassy embankment.
Once I had eaten, I shoved off and began paddling for my take out point. The air, although cool, was warm enough that I only needed to wear a T-shirt. While paddling I came upon two eagles, who with wings outstretched, were drying out after an apparent dive into the river for a fish breakfast.
It took me an hour to reach my wife who was waiting for me in our old silver Jeep. Our dog Kora was with her, and although she too was excited to see me, I think she was slightly put-out that I hadn’t brought her along. Perhaps on my next river run!
I’ve camped in various places a bazillion times with my family, or friends, as well as by myself. Often it’s been in a campground of some form or another. This was the first time I’ve ever gone by myself and camped in a wild area where if I yelled at the top of my lungs, nobody would ever hear me. I suppose it was somewhat scary; not because of any thoughts of a Bogeyman or Sasquatch, but rather the unknown. Although I was hardly gone 24 hours, what I found was what I had searched for; solitude and a connection. The call of the wild in all its forms, tied to the lure of moving water, is my kindred spirit.
See you along The Way...
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