Remaining silent about the destruction of nature is an endorsement of that destruction.

I suddenly came to me yesterday that if I didn’t go kayaking, that I might go insane. It’s funny how just getting away, even for a little while, from the cars, people, phone, computer, etc. brings life back into perspective. Paddling quietly along, a person has the chance to reflect on things and contemplate life. On the other hand, while running the rapids there is no time for anything but instinct and gut level reactions to keep one from going out of control and facing the prospect of death. This juxtaposition of chaos and calm, life and death, is probably one of the things that draws me to the sport. It’s like a microcosm of life, the ups and downs, victories and defeats, all boiled down into an afternoon playing on the river. But enough of my worn-out philosophy. Let’s get down to what really happened. To start with, the weather here has been fairly miserable, with every day in the past couple of weeks being over 100 degrees. Yesterday, they (NOAA) were predicting a slight chance of strong afternoon and evening thunderstorms. I decided to ignore the weather forecast since, like I stated before, I needed to get out. So after work, I drove out of town to the State Park, checked in, and had my kayak (a Necky Manitou 13) in the water all within 30 minutes of getting off work. I put in at the low water crossing at the entrance to the Park and started paddling up-stream. This is, of course much easier said than done. Yesterday the river was flowing at 79 cfs, which isn’t a huge flow but it certainly seems like a lot when paddling against it. After fighting my way through the current it was nice to relax a little in the still water and stop and take a look around. The river was cool and clear with the blue-green foliage of the Switch Grass waving to and froe from the banks. Past the grass, tall Pecan and Cottonwood trees grow tall shading the banks and the water. Beyond the trees the limestone cliffs rise up reaching for the sky. The vermillion flycatchers, kingfishers and painted buntings played in the river, while the Turkey Vultures soared high over head. I paddled on, now feeling completely at ease with the world. It was hot outside (102 degrees), but not unbearable. I dipped my hat into the cool water, placed it on my head and let the wet chill slide down my back. I pulled my kayak up onto a gravel bar in the shade to pause for a drink and to listen to the river for a bit. As a sat on a boulder with my eyes closed taking in the sounds, I heard a rustle in the thicket to my right. I slowly cocked my head to the side and opened my eyes, to find myself face to face with a young white-tailed doe (doe a deer, a female deer). She was quite startled suddenly realizing that the rock she was feeding near was alive. She ran off about 50 to 60 yards and stopped to check me out with the safety of a bit of distance between us. The doe looked strong and healthy, especially considering the hot weather we had been experiencing. I stayed and watched the feeding doe for a while, then slowly edged my way back into my kayak, as not to disturb her as she ate the small reeds growing at the river side and continued up stream. Making my way up the small rapids and placid pools, I came around a bend in the river to see a small flock of Turkey that had also come down to the river to feed. The group of hens (I didn’t see the Tom) had several chicks with them that stayed hidden in the tall grass. The mothers would pick up the Cutleaf Daisy seeds and take them over to the babies, so that they could eat without exposing themselves to the view of predators. Lost in beauty of the river, I had failed to notice that indeed the weather service had been right. With the sound of thunder in distance and the building of the clouds, it looked as though I was about to be caught in a pretty good storm. The idea of a little rain didn’t bother me much, but being caught out on the open water waving an aluminum and fiberglass stick around in the air with the frequent lightning strikes, it seemed like it might be a little too much temptation for God not to go ahead and strike me down. So, I turned my kayak around and with a bit of a heavy heart started paddling back down stream. Of course, getting to shoot the rapids on the way back down, instead of portaging or laboring to paddle through, was a blast. Since the storm was drawing nearer, I didn’t stop on my way back to the Park and was able to load my kayak on my Jeep, get it strapped down and get about half way home before the storm hit. We ended up with less than 1/100 of an inch of rain, but did get quite a lightning show. With my paddle trip cut short by the weather, I’ll certainly be back on the river this week-end, to frolic once more in a playground no human could ever build.