Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Falls

It was hard leaving my woodland life behind but berry season is over, the wildflowers are no longer blooming and autumn is imminent.

On Friday I set out on a quest for Silver Falls which had been touted as a "must see" attraction. "The water is perfectly clear there, you can see right to the bottom" I was told. I consulted my maps. I consulted our landlord who pointed out their coordinates on the map and then suggested I visit Drewry Falls instead. "They're closer." 

But I am not about "closer". I am about adventure and the promise of a tropical paradise only a short paddle away. Because, despite all geographical evidence to the contrary, tropical is how my imagination envisioned it. It was going to be a large, cascading waterfall with brightly coloured fish for me to chase while swimming in the crystal clear pools below. It would be just like the one I once hiked to in Costa Rica.

So I set out with one bottle of water, one piece of farmer sausage, ten cherries and a basically empty Blistex container. I paddled the shoreline of the lake for hours searching for the Grassy Narrows that would lead to the connecting lake but every excursion into every bay turned up nothing. "It must be just around the next corner," I would tell myself with every disappointment, then paddle confidently around to the other side of the trees only to discover another bay with more trees. I had been told the trip should take about two hours but three hours later I still had nothing to show for my efforts.  

I ate my lunch. With the sun beating directly down on me I realized I only had a quarter of my water left. I had no more blistex. Refueled and reinvigorated I forged on convinced at every turn that it would be just around the next bend, and then the next until, finally, off on the horizon at last I saw reeds. That must be it. I paddled for twenty minutes towards the reeds, ignoring two more bays along the way. Five minutes before I reached the grassy shore I passed a cottage with a family leaving their dock in canoes and kayaks.

I searched the shoreline for an opening but couldn't find one. I was about to give up when I spotted the family from the cottage paddling and disappearing into the reeds on the far side of the marsh so I followed them in. Paddling down the beautiful creek I felt happily content and when the falls came into view after turning round the final bend, I was relieved to have finally found them.




They weren't exactly how I'd envisioned them, more like rapids than actual waterfalls, and I most definitely couldn't get out and swim, but still they were pretty and definitely worth the paddle. My spirits buoyed I thought I might check out these Drewry Falls on my way back. I pulled out my map. I checked it three times certain I must be reading it wrong. But no, it turns out I had been reading it wrong all morning and I was already at Drewry Falls. I was still miles away from Silver Falls.



Cursing, I paddled back to the lake. Having come this far I was determined now to see Silver Falls if it killed me. Another hour passed. I began taking mental stock of the supplies in my dry sack, wondering what I might use to make my own version of Wilson. I finally found the Grassy Narrows, a pretty little cut through to a pretty little lake and turned right. It was the middle of the afternoon now and I began to flag both physically and mentally. I wanted to, no I needed to, get out of the kayak. I wanted to go swimming and take a nap. I needed to pee.

Spotting a reedy shoreline with two openings I needed to make a decision. Looking to the opening on my left there was a silver flash of metal along the treeline, a vehicle driving past. Knowing there can't be anything too beautiful that close to civilization I headed to the opening on the right but I knew almost instantly this couldn't be it. No motor boat, which the promoter of these falls was in on his visit, would be able to navigate through this creek so I decided to turn around after the next bend. At the end of the next bend, however, head down in the creek  for a drink, was a black bear. He raised his head and looked at me. I paddled carefully backwards. He turned and hightailed it back into the bush. I continued to paddle backwards from whence I came, too afraid to turn my back on that shore.

I paddled, a bit more warily now, to the other opening. I could hear the falls before I saw them but when I did, I burst out laughing. These falls were smaller by half than Drewry Falls. The water was, as advertised, definitely clear. I could, in fact, see straight down to the mucky sludge of the creek bed. I could also clearly see large, lumbering grey fish swimming beside my kayak. I understand now that there are some things that I would clearly rather not see, things I would rather not know were lurking in the water I paddle and play in. But, most brilliant of all after my epic struggle and search, are the cars driving across the bridge over the falls. So, you know, I could have just driven to see them.



When I finished laughing maniacally, I drank the last of my water and headed back. Knowing where I was going now meant the paddle home really was only two hours. That's two hours across open water and against wind. I was about twenty minutes from home, parched and exhausted, when I noticed something in the water about fifteen feet in front of me. "Gee," I thought, "That log is moving awfully fast." The log swiveled its head and looked at me. Turns out the log was a bear.

The next day I was exhausted, utterly ruined for anything other than lazing at the beach, and, sitting round the campfire in the evening was only putting in time until I could crawl, with my blistering sunburned lips, into bed. But, just as the night was about to creep in and provide a plausible alibi, our neighbour from Knots landing came up the hill with champagne to toast a bon voyage for me and fresh pickerel just to share the ridiculous bounty of a good days fishing. Soon a party was underway, with the campground's owners and even my campground nemesis who contributed a bottle of wine and dry wood so we had to let him stay all gathered round the fire.

I struggled just to keep my eyes open but, in the sky above shooting stars were streaking across the sky. It's the time of year again when earth passes through the Leonid meteor showers. They've only just begun and I was sad to think I'll miss them at their peak in a few weeks. I got to enjoy them again round the fire with Dad on Sunday night though after rainbow chasing and an impossibly tasty pickerel fry. All of it was the perfect way to wind up my personal season of transition at the beginning of this literal one.

Still the summer's not quite over yet and I made one last run to my island on Monday. The lake was perfectly still, the sun was scorching and Frog greeted me at my rocky dock and lounged in a puddle beside me all afternoon.

Goodbye Frog, Goodbye Piper,
Goodbye lilies, lake and loon
Goodbye island, Goodbye kayak
Goodbye fireflies and moon ...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I love this adventure. Its great what you can accomplish when you are no longer taking it for granted. :) All the best Corinne!