Lotus Lilies and a Weight of Water

It was still dark when I left the house Saturday morning, the air humid, and a dampness from the overnight rain clung to everything. My feet got soaked just walking through a few patches of grass to the car and I rushed to turn on the AC when I started the engine. Mist curled up from the quiet roads as I was drove down to Crow's Nest, a conservation area near Stafford, where I'd be meeting friends for a kayak trip. Due to the horrendous weather we've been having this summer the trip had already been canceled once and looked set to be rescheduled again, but the weather for Saturday looked like the morning would be dry so it was all system's go. Bob had sent a message a couple of days before to all which had made me laugh out loud:
"You are listed as going.  If you have to change your RSVP, please do so TODAY.  We have more cars than can fit, so I have to talk with the ranger on our options, and then I will let all know what our plans are.  But, for now, update your RSVP if you think that you cannot go or you plan on being late due to the usual reasons.  This is especially true if you are likely to dig deep in a bag of stories how something came up at the last minute and you cannot make it.  After today, you have to come if you are listed as going.  Even dying is not acceptable; if you die, reappear to someone as a ghost and tell them that they are taking your place and give them your name"
 I, for one, wasn't missing this trip and had every intention of going, even if rain was forecast. This would be the first time this year Big Red would be on the water and I was looking forward to it.

  It was a long haul from the parking lot to the boat ramp and we all helped each other carry our boats. Bob yelled out that the operation was like a government agency, one person working while another watched and another pretended to be hurt or otherwise engaged. He eventually got everybody in order and then shoved them and their boats down the ramp, and then we were on our way. It was beautifully peaceful, no sounds of traffic, only a large flock of red-winged blackbirds trilling and hopping from one grass stem to another, as though they were indignant at our group invading their territory.Ospreys and bald eagles circled overhead, likely hunting for breakfast.

 Our original plan had been that we would be paddling among the water lilies in the creek. Unfortunately the flowers were finished, their leaves beginning to curl and brown along the edges. but as we paddled down further we saw groups of lotus lilies sprouting up from among the dying water lilies, their leaves large and a fresh bright green, the young growth pushing past the decaying leaves like bright beacons of new life. Pale yellow flowers reached up as though searching for sunlight, their light gold petals shining lamps among the green. Huge seed pods peered over the lily pads. like the plants from Day of the Triffids, or periscopes from submarines.
There was little sunshine and I was glad. When the sun did momentarily burst through the grey clouds the temperature immediately soared but thankfully the clouds manged to resume their total coverage of the sky,as if pulling curtains shut over a window .The water was still, the only ripples created by us as we paddled. I dipped my hand in, surprised to find it so warm. Every so often a welcome breeze cut through the humidity. It was a while before I realized that we weren't being invaded by mosquitoes. I had wiped my arms and legs with a repellent but those pesky whining insects weren't bothering me at all today. I relished their absence. We were the only people in the creek and even as it became wider, we could see a few boats moored up by silent houses but there were barely any on the water. No jet skies or motor engines at all, only an occasional buzz could be heard in the distance.

 We came across a lone fisherman in his jon boat, standing and grinning hugely as he held aloft a large snake head fish. These are an invasive species which have gotten a stronghold in the waterways and are slowly decimating other fishes and small animals so fishermen are encouraged to catch and kill them. I had read this a few years ago assuming their population was still increasing and so was amazed to read this article, informing people that this is no longer true. This gentleman was holding tight on to his catch, they can live up to 4 days out of water as long as they stay wet. He was going to eat his, saying they were the best tasting freshwater fish around. I took his word for it and resolved to look out for them on future restaurant menus.

 A couple of photos of me from Bob when we stopped for a break. I'd been chatting to a guy called Doug who had me howling with laughter as he recounted a time he'd taken a nap on a sunny day while sitting in his kayak. The hot sun had lulled him to sleep and he'd woken up as he tipped out from his boat into the water. Today, even though there was no sunlight he had crossed his arms and his head tilted down as though another nap was imminent. I kept an eye on him. Bananas, chips and nuts were tossed back and forth from boat to boat as people shared their munchies. My jerky went down well, the packet disappearing in a couple of minutes.

 Bob  suggested we start back as the tide was going out and low tide would have a depth of 0.0ft which he thought would cause a problem paddling. The tide was actually going out quite quickly as I found it harder to push against the current.

I got left behind though as I wanted to push in among the lotus flowers and lily pads for a few final photos. The thick rubbery pads fascinated me as they floated on the water, perfect circles with creases like open fans. Huge droplets of water sat on top like glass pebbles you find in flower vases. The thick weeds grabbed on to my paddle as I pushed my way in further. After enjoying the lilies for a few more minutes I started backing out. Reversing was a lot harder and my paddle blades were weighed down with the heavy wet weeds. It was a strenuous workout to return to open water and then I paddled hard to catch up with the others. I was finding the going tough and was a little annoyed with myself at being so unfit. I had also evidently been splashing too much as I had more water than usual in the bottom of my cockpit and my seat was wet. It wasn't until I had dragged my boat along the wooden walkway, thinking how heavy it was, that the penny dropped. I spotted a thin trail of water following behind me and at the car when I turned Big Red over I saw the hole. Looking inside my rear cargo compartment I was amazed to see it filled with water. Last year I had been paranoid thinking my weight was causing the boat to sit lower in the water. This year I knew I was lighter but was still experiencing the same issue. But it had been my laziness of dragging the boat everywhere that had worn a hole in the plastic hull. Bob told me a shop in Harrisonburg, PA could repair it but I resolved to do some research when I got home to see if I could do it myself. I'd save the ordeal of a long car journey and likely a couple of hundred dollars.

As we finished loading our boats onto cars, the rain began to fall, so our planned picnic had to be canceled. I managed to get home with just a few showers following me, thunder rumbled overhead as Big Red was stowed in the barn, large splats of rain hit my head while I walked to the house, happy to spend the rest of the afternoon curled up with Rosie Lee and Tricksie Treat, not forgetting to look online on how to plug a hole in the hull of a kayak, and to buy a kayak cart.