It has been a terrible summer in many ways. I wanted sunshine, days at the beach, a peach-colored tan, and paddling in the canoe. Instead we had oppressive heat, rain, cold, wind and endless mosquitoes. I was ready to write the summer of 2013 off and bravely face winter.
Then 2013 threw us a curve with a near perfect day.
We packed lunches, put on our bathing suits and went to the bank where Gary had tied up the canoe. The banks are high so I had to slide down on my rump to get to our vessel. Then we were off. There's a little electric motor on the canoe but that's no good when there are weeds. Then paddles are required. Stevens Lake is only 12 feet deep at the deepest part so there are many weedy places. Gary called it the Sargasso Sea. We watched for the weeds and adapted as necessary.
About half of the lake shore is in private hands and that means vacation cottages with pontoon and speed boats tied to docks. The other part is national forest. All lakes and rivers belong to the State of Wisconsin.What amazed us is that our little canoe was the only craft on the this 300 acre piece of water on a sweet and sunny day. It will likely be busier over the weekend but for this day, we had our private lake.
We skirted the north part of the shore and spotted an eagle half way up a dead tree. A bit further we saw his aerie but there were no signs of chicks there. The eaglets had already flown away. The nest appears to have been used for years. Perhaps next year we'll come earlier to watch the show.
Kingfishers flew here and there. If one missed his fish, he flew back to his perch and chattered angrily.
Along the shore there were more reeds, weeds and fragrant water lilies.
We found the inlet that took us to Stevens Creek, where fresh water feeds the lake.
We had never taken the canoe out on a river this year. The Wolf River was flooded for much of the spring with the water too high and dangerous even for these two old fools. Now I was getting my river cruise. Sure enough, we soon startled a pair of mallards. Gary was looking the other way when a great blue heron erupted from the water. We knew he would keep on going upriver so it was just a matter of our progressing at the same rate. Once again, I saw a bit of him as he went around a bend, but finally we caught him and Gary could see him in his S-necked glory.
A flock of cedar waxwings were feasting on the berries of the labrador tea plants beside the creek. It's too early for the berries to ferment so they were sober. Either that or, as Gary says, they are members of Waxwing Anonymous.
I am always so taken with wildlife I forget to photograph them.
The creek became narrower. Gary called it the Zambezi, which is in a different geographic location entirely than the Sargasso Sea, but never mind. "Time to turn back, Rosie Old Girl!" Gary called. "Yes, Mr. Allnut," I called back. We could look ahead to the entrance to the lake. "Time to meet the Louisa." We talked about fixing torpedoes to the canoe as our little African Queen charged full paddle into the lake. All we found was a little painted turtle resting in the reeds.
Later we consulted with Frank and Tracy, our neighbors in the campground. They've been coming to Stevens Lake for years. Frank told us the outlet of the lake, Mainline Creek, could be paddled as far as the bridge on Thrasher Road. So after supper we were off again to check that out, but the water was low.
Once again, the motor was no good so Gary had to paddle. In time the creek became a bog and the channel almost disappeared. Twilight was no time to get lost. Mr. Allnut turned the canoe around.
It was easier to drop me off at the dock since the banks are easy enough to slide down but not so easy for this old lady to climb.
As Gary turned the corner to return the canoe to its mooring spot, I took this final photograph.
There could be one more adventure today. Frank tells us that most evenings a bear comes down the ridge behind our camper to go over to the lake for late night fishing and splashing. I will watch through the window for that.
Then 2013 threw us a curve with a near perfect day.
We packed lunches, put on our bathing suits and went to the bank where Gary had tied up the canoe. The banks are high so I had to slide down on my rump to get to our vessel. Then we were off. There's a little electric motor on the canoe but that's no good when there are weeds. Then paddles are required. Stevens Lake is only 12 feet deep at the deepest part so there are many weedy places. Gary called it the Sargasso Sea. We watched for the weeds and adapted as necessary.
About half of the lake shore is in private hands and that means vacation cottages with pontoon and speed boats tied to docks. The other part is national forest. All lakes and rivers belong to the State of Wisconsin.What amazed us is that our little canoe was the only craft on the this 300 acre piece of water on a sweet and sunny day. It will likely be busier over the weekend but for this day, we had our private lake.
We skirted the north part of the shore and spotted an eagle half way up a dead tree. A bit further we saw his aerie but there were no signs of chicks there. The eaglets had already flown away. The nest appears to have been used for years. Perhaps next year we'll come earlier to watch the show.
Kingfishers flew here and there. If one missed his fish, he flew back to his perch and chattered angrily.
Along the shore there were more reeds, weeds and fragrant water lilies.
A flock of cedar waxwings were feasting on the berries of the labrador tea plants beside the creek. It's too early for the berries to ferment so they were sober. Either that or, as Gary says, they are members of Waxwing Anonymous.
I am always so taken with wildlife I forget to photograph them.
The creek became narrower. Gary called it the Zambezi, which is in a different geographic location entirely than the Sargasso Sea, but never mind. "Time to turn back, Rosie Old Girl!" Gary called. "Yes, Mr. Allnut," I called back. We could look ahead to the entrance to the lake. "Time to meet the Louisa." We talked about fixing torpedoes to the canoe as our little African Queen charged full paddle into the lake. All we found was a little painted turtle resting in the reeds.
Later we consulted with Frank and Tracy, our neighbors in the campground. They've been coming to Stevens Lake for years. Frank told us the outlet of the lake, Mainline Creek, could be paddled as far as the bridge on Thrasher Road. So after supper we were off again to check that out, but the water was low.
It was easier to drop me off at the dock since the banks are easy enough to slide down but not so easy for this old lady to climb.
As Gary turned the corner to return the canoe to its mooring spot, I took this final photograph.
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