FrostyWooldridge's Blog

By Frosty Wooldridge

 

Our loaded canoe slipped easily away from the dock on the south end of Shadow Mountain Lake high in the Rocky Mountains.  Above us, puffy summer clouds skidded across the sky while swallows darted across the water in front of us.  One speedster snatched a floating white feather out of the air, lost it, then dove back to catch it again—then off to her nest.

 

We paddled toward three islands in the middle of the lake when an osprey swooped down in front of us.  Seconds later, it swept up to a branch in a dead tree. As we paddled past, the osprey watched us intently.

 

With each paddle stroke, swirling waters faded back along our ancient craft.  I watched Sandi dig into the water, pull back and hoist the paddle back out as it dripped with water.  She returned it forward until she sliced back into the clear lake water beneath our canoe.  Something magical about traveling slowly with the rhythms of nature!  Peace overcomes and spirit travels softer through the pores of our bodies. 

 

A slight breeze picked up while we slipped between two islands toward our favorite Pacific White Pelican viewing spot.   Another 500 hundred paddle strokes later brought us to a magnificent colony of 25 pelicans perched on logs with more standing in two inches of water.  Some slept while others preened! 

 

With five foot wing spans on pure white plumage, those birds shock a bird watcher when their black wingtips appear as if by magic.  Their tangerine-colored beaks stretch eight to 10 inches long.  Under their beaks, a big pouch flaps when they raise their heads and ‘clap’ at the sky in what looks like they talk to the clouds.  Bright yellow surrounds their eye sockets.

 

Once finished with their ‘do-dadding’, they turn their heads 180 degrees, point their beaks along the spine on their backs, bury it into their feathers—and fall asleep.  We watched various activities for two hours from our anchored position 30 yards away.  Every once in a while, a big pelican glided toward the group, dropped his wings and skidded into the water.   Their majestic wingspan inspires amazement.

 

Peace poured over us like maple syrup over pancakes as we watched those big birds.  My favorite woodsman John Muir said, “How many hearts with warm red blood in them are beating under cover of the woods, and how many teeth and eyes are shining!  A multitude of animal people, intimately related us, but of whose lives we know almost nothing, are as busy about their own affairs as we are about ours.”

 

We pulled away from our anchor for another 500 paddle strokes to a point near a cove loaded with cattails.   We beached the canoe in time to see a female moose glaring right at us through thick underbrush.  We enjoyed a picnic table and fire spit for an afternoon of reading, writing, relaxing in our camp chairs—and preparing dinner. 

 

Hot chocolate steamed as the sky lit up in radiant red glows from the snow-capped peaks behind us to the western sky in front of us.  Mayflies danced in the air above the cattails while the sun back-lit their bodies.  Red-wing black birds flew from cattail to cattail.  Several fish jumped out in the water. 

 

All the while, the sun sank low while swallows raced through splendid gray/red/pink colors flashing off cloudbanks high above us.  To our west, shadows rose up mountain flanks—filled with brown beetle killed lodge pole pines—along with new green growth nudging its way toward the sun. Further east, eternal snow-capped peaks glowed pink against a strawberry sky.

 

All the while red-winged black birds sang their melodies while several hummingbirds buzzed over our spot.  A yellow finch stopped by for a perch on our picnic table. Out in the water, Canada geese honked with the dying light. Must have been 100 of them swimming past in a grand gray/black/white parade!    I looked around me at the grand scheme of nature—water lapped the shore, mallards floated past, geese honked, new cattails shot green shoots skyward and nature proved its magic. 

 

How peaceful that moment with nature gliding effortlessly from day to night.  Each creature in the air, under the water and upon the land commenced its business, its life process.

 

What’s so special?  We sit her in our chairs watching this grand color parade ebb and flow—and we take heed and appreciation.  At this moment, a line of clouds resembling a piano keyboard blazes pink in the western sky.  Yet we see it slowly evolving to gray/red and opps, it turned black in a moment as the sun set!

 

We ate a fabulously tasty dinner and gorged ourselves on Raspberry Crumble dessert!

 

Later, we jumped into the canoe to paddle across the lake in the gathering darkness. A ¾ moon bounced a line of light off the bow of our ancient craft.  Glass-still water allowed us to cut through it like a knife.  I watched Sandi dig into the water as we cut a straight shot toward the distant shoreline. I pulled my own paddle hard through the water.

 

We hit the shoreline, pulled the canoe into the woods, and pitched our tent in the moonlight.  Magic!  We dove onto our air mattresses with moon light playing on the fabric while trees creaked above and a few birds chirped their last song as we fell asleep.

 

As the sun cracked the mountain peaks east of us, we piled our gear into our canoe.  Mist swirled off the glass smooth waters as we launched our craft. 

 

Another 1,000 paddle strokes brought us to the boat docks in Grand Lake.  A bowl of tree-covered mountains surrounded us in that peaceful place.  We tied up while several early birds threw their fish lines into the water.

 

We walked over to the Fat Cat Café’ run by an English woman. Wow! What an amazing breakfast buffet array of European-style cooking.  WE walked into a quaint log cabin interior with rustic seating.  On the food tables, she offered a display fit for royalty: quiches, scrambled eggs, griddled hot cakes, cookies, fruit slices, sweet breads, French toast, hash browns, lemon pie, strawberry pie, chocolate pie, banana cream pie, cherry pie, English sconces and mouthwatering cinnamon rolls.  Then, ham, bacon, hevos rancheros, corn beef hash, poached eggs, coffees, teas, hot chocolate—and so much more!    

 

After breakfast, the weekend moved slowly forward. We hopped into our ancient craft for 2,000 paddle strokes to our take-out.  Along the way, osprey flew, gulls danced on the wind, a mule deer hopped through the woods and life carried on its magic while the white pelicans preened themselves under a Rocky Mountain Blue sky. 

 

Life doesn’t get much better than that!

 

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