Ditchschtick

I paddled out to Turtle Creek today, so dubbed for the family of turtles that will, year after year, greet you near the entrance. They will be sunning themselves on the same log in descending order of size.

You will never be able to get a good picture of all six of them because, no matter how prepared you are, they will always see you before you are properly positioned and will, after seeming to heave a collectively weary sigh, dive into the water. Their heads will poke up out of the water to spy on you but, as soon as you spot them, they will duck shyly back underwater. They may be camera shy, but they have erected a sign to convey everything important you might need to know on your visit:

So I always take care to not reach any speed more dizzying than a 2k/hr stroke but you're more than welcome to take your chances. When you reach the tributaries, hang a left towards Colossus so dubbed for it's size which is, obviously, analogous to Hoover dam despite having been built by mere rodents.

Only this year, the Colossus will be gone. There are only two small dams, both of which have been breached and, if you just keep paddling, you will eventually find yourself with this stunning vista:

If you sit in your big blue kayak in the ditch long enough, wondering how it could all have gone so horribly wrong, a lady will drive by in a K-car and, spotting you, her face will light up and she will wave at you enthusiastically, or wait, no that's encouragingly. Smile wanly and wave back, feeling like you just got caught trying to kayak in a bathtub.