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Canoes, too, are unobtrusive; they don't storm the natural world or ride over it, but drift in upon it as a part of its own silence. As you either care about what the land is or not, so do you like or dislike quiet things--sailboats, or rainy green mornings in foreign places, or a grazing herd, or the ruins of old monasteries in the mountains. . . . Chances for being quiet nowadays are limited. --- John Graves
In the middle of the upper lake, just in view of the boathouse. From here, I can paddle out and look at the whole lake. In the west are the narrows and the large bowl of the lower lake. It's where the speed boats zoom along like on a racetrack. To my east, the mouths of Hazel Creek and Sly Park Creek with an extended rust-colored shoreline pinched in between. There is no mountain view like at the far west of the lake, where one can peer out over the whole lake and, on a clear day, see the Sierra Nevada Mountain range rising over the pines. I'm a bit jealous of that view. The lake's conifer wooded shoreline and glistening waters are my vista.
Although canoes are primarily used for transportation on lakes and streams, I'm not going anywhere as I shatter the stillness of the water's surface. I'm simply paddling for the enjoyment of paddling. Writer Jerry Dennis says that paddling makes you part of the lake, a willing participant instead of an intruder to the pastel dramas of the lake.
"A good canoe does not merely travel across a lake or river," writes Dennis, "It glides along the interface between water and the air, making hardly a ripple in passing, and is so silent that it blends with the world."
Out the lake, the canoe is timeless. It's amazing how much inspiration and direction we can learn from paddling a canoe. While floating along in the stillness, my mind wanders on how the canoe has become a proverbial direction for navigating the smooth and rough waters of one's life. How often have we heard the phrase "Paddle your own canoe?" It suggests how you paddle the canoe is all very relatable to life.
For me, it inspires a sense of unbounded range and freedom. Like my bicycle, while growing up, it was a craft that offered me unlimited movement and exploration. For others, it can rekindle a memory of carefree days gone by. When boarding my customers at the boathouse in a canoe, I've heard them say they haven't paddled one of these since summer camp.
Canoeing in summer is a rite of passage. No one will schedule a canoe trip in the winter. Not that you can't. It's just not done very often. You see, canoes are meant to be kissed by the rising or setting sun when the waters swirl in gold and red. A vessel for cruising lakes and exploring bays where you can sneak quietly on birds, deer, and beaver for an unexpected encounter. A boat for finding a secluded spot for a picnic or swim where all you hear is the whispers of your paddle gliding through the water.
The lake glistened in a golden evening glow as the setting sun silhouetted the castle of pines around me. Dipping my paddle, I inhale the view of tranquility in both its sight and sound. Across the lake, some stand-up paddle boarders, the new rage, were making their way back to the access, reminding the way the days of the canoe are fading. However, the magic summertime canoe paddle certainly, won't ever be forgotten.
