Every trip is something new.
While I might have my daily routine down to a science, nature doesn’t follow my OCD-driven habits.
Get up at “X” time in the morning, drink “Y” cups of coffee, and I have “Z” minutes to find an available bathroom with sufficient toilet paper—and matches (to prevent getting yelled at by the wife-person)—to complete my business. It’s all perfect math to me.
But, leave the confines of your closed environment and it’s a different ballgame. You may have your favorite trail you walk, jog, or bike along, but the scenery changes from month-to-month, day-to-day, and moment-to-moment. Sometimes you might have to look closely to see the changes, and other times it might slap you in the face, like a broken branch that wasn’t there yesterday.
(That’ll teach you to not turn your head, staring as that athletic lady in the tight running shorts goes by.)
This is what encourages us to return, time and again, to our local kayaking lake.
(Not the getting slapped in the face part, which for me, if the branch misses me, the wife probably won’t.)
On a mid-week, mid-day paddle on Lake Natoma, the sights were a far cry from middling.
First, there was one lone stand-up paddler on the placid water performing a graceful version of Hoe he’e nalu, which loosely translates from Hawaiian to “stand-up paddling.”
Closer to shore, a cute sunning turtle clung to a piece of wood, until some idiot paddler with a camera drifted into his personal space, precipitating a hasty underwater exit.
Apparently, birds poised along the shoreline react similarly to an invasion of privacy, except they make their exit by air rather than water.
Speaking of birds, there were massive flotillas of various species that provided a loud cacophony of symphonic orchestrations. In other words, there were a lot of loud birds out there, more than I have ever heard on that lake.
Was something brewing? Were they conspiring to drive off interlopers who insist on depriving them of their peaceful place on the lake?
At one point, I almost lost my wife among the ginormous flocks taking flight.
It was reminiscent of a horror movie that came out before many of you young readers were yourself floating in your own amniotic lake.
Luckily, should the scene scare the you-know-what out of you, there are convenient pooper-potties floating on the lake to provide relief.
Like I said, every day is a whole new world. At least, that is what I have been told.