May Miniatures

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…And these Things,

which live by perishing, know you are praising them; transient,

they look to us for deliverance: us, the most transient of all..

(Rilke, The Ninth Elegy)

If one is prepared for the paradox of cold water and warming air temperatures, paddling in May can be a joy. Though the lake level is rising as the rivers pour runoff into the basin, some of the public boat ramps and access points don’t provide enough clearance for powerboats to launch safely. As a result, far fewer boats churn the lake surface, especially before Memorial Day. If a paddler catches an interval of high atmospheric pressure between spring’s wind events, one can paddle great distances in relative calm. At such times the lake feels open for exploration.

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I recently took advantage of one of these opportunities and paddled through The Narrows and up to Wild Horse Island. Starting from the campground at Finley Point I landed at Osprey Cove. As I approached the cove I heard calls of distress from the osprey in the snag at the north end of the cove. Wanting to cause as little upset as possible, I hugged the rocks at the south end of the cove and hauled Bluebird up the steps of the adjacent gravel ramp then opened up my dry suit to cool off. Curiosity soon got the better of me and I began to explore the cracks in the big blocks of stone that armor the edge of the cove. Even these unlikely places host blooming plants and mosses. Soon I began to hike up the steeply wooded slope above the cove. Thanks to spring rains the ground was soft underfoot. Gaining a little elevation, I took in the broad view—Cedar Island and The Missions beyond. Mountains still held snow from late season storms, but the near-at-hand held my attention. On the body of a fallen tree I found a miniature garden of mushrooms, mosses, a fir seedling and silky phacelia. On more open slopes I found harebells at the end of their long fine stalks, shooting stars beginning to fade, arnica and balsamroot in full flush.

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This early season paddle reminds me that there is more to see on the island than Rocky Mountain Bighorn sheep and big bucks in velvet. Deep in the forest a palette of colors and diverse forms express themselves in miniature. A kayak offers access to these micro-worlds before tour boats motor by scouring the slopes for “game” and before jet skis cut high-speed turns in the liquid blue. Sometimes the world at our feet calls out for our attention. As the prophet reminds us, the grass withers, the flower fades.

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