Canoeing on Lost Lake

Gary was asked which campground he likes best. "It depends," he said.

Each place we camp offers special treats. Last week's Laura Lake offers good swimming and big campsites that keep other campers at bay. This week, at Lost Lake, is another experience.

I like Lost Lake for the great hiking along the Lauterman system of trails, eight miles in all. I am thinking of blackberry picking, a bit of danger since bears are very fond of harvesting them, too.   Gary likes Lost Lake for canoeing.

Gary brought two canoes with him on this trip, the Bell and the Wenonah.  The Wenonah is a one person canoe.  It's made of Kevlar, which means it's light, about 35 pounds.  He can toss that one into the water in no time.

Yesterday evening, we took the two person Bell across the lake to take a look at the National Forest cabins. This section of the forest was once a Civilian Conservation Corps camp in the 1930's.  Young men bunked there, ate their meals in the dining hall, and entertained themselves in the meeting room.  After the war, Purdue University used the site for a while, then it became part of the national forest system.

Now, with a stimulus grant, the rangers are having the site renovated.  We wanted to see what changes are being made.  

We slipped across the lake in the canoe.  Though the campground is busy, filled with screaming children and barking dogs, the lake was at its reflective best, the sky, trees and canoes doubling up.  

We took the landing and went in to wander around.  The big machinery was quiet, not even a watchman keeping an eye on the place overnight. 

The dining hall has been propped up.  The cabins now have screening along the base to keep critters out.  Many of the buildings are now handicapped accessible. 

We checked out the caretakers' cabin.  Our good friends Mary and Marty are not there this summer.  No one to hang a dozen hummingbird feeders.  No one to rent out showers.  No one to offer advice on the trails.   We miss them.  Will they be back another year?  They couldn't afford to be unemployed for a summer, Mary told me last year. They didn't know what 2012 would bring.

We wandered in the quiet that never existed there before. 

Then we canoed back and sat by the fire and made plans for the next week.