I can see why Monet obsessed over water lilies. They are so strange with their long tentacles reaching beneath the surface, outstretched palms facing the sky, bobbing among the ripples. I had no idea they were bright red before they turned green, never having visited their habitat in early summer apparently. Such a surprising sight to see, hundreds of red and yellow circles spread out before us when we finally exited the canoe trail into the lake's main body.
The lush greenery was a sight to behold as well. After a very snowy winter and rainy spring, the florescent shades of greens seemed to glow along the path back to our vehicles. I'm not sure I recall a spring quite as green in Montana. Later, after the 90 degree days and perennial winds, the summer/fall fires will come; but for now, the pungent damp greenery fills the air.
This was my first sojourn with my brand new, economy model, kayak. The trek is 100 miles, quite a stretch for a two hour paddle. But it is a special place, complete with rusty headed merganser and five little ones trailing on the edge of the canal, the multitude of hidden chirpers within the willows lining the banks, and the giant, silent great blue heron flying overhead.
It rained steady as we neared the put in, some grumbling was heard of not paddling in the rain, but lo and behold, not a drop fell on our heads on our journey. In fact, we had a good solid 10 minutes of sunshine, which was no less than divine. My thanks to my good pals who carted my kayak, and me, for my maiden voyage, some great travel conversation, and the wrap up stop at our favorite Blackfoot Brewery upon our return to town. Good friends are priceless, and nature is mandatory to nourish the soul.
