And the rains came
It started to drizzle about 2 AM. The temperature had risen, and all seemed good in our safe little tent. But it turned to rain and we had to climb in and out of the tent to pee. Soon wetness was inside too, along with mud. The sun rose before seven, maybe. We didn’t see it, but noticed it was lighter and we were growing stiff. It was back to an occasional drizzle. I made coffee and hot granola actually it was crapola, a local favorite, then I sat under a couple branches of a small cedar tree on the rock and journaled. Terry joined me for a while, but it was chilly, damp, clammy, and uncomfortable. If we were hiking, we’d roll up everything wet and leave. Once you’re backpack is on and you’re moving, it’s warm. But paddling takes a lot of gear. We’re doing paddling light. We are carrying freeze dried dinner and lunch and breakfast granola. We have a jet boil stove and one cup, a collapsible bowl, and three spoons. But add to this to this our life jacket, paddles, fishing rod, tackle box—well you get it. It’s a long day sitting under a branch.
Then the trumpeter swans came to life and stretched their impossible necks and greeted us headlong, bugling overhead. It brought us to the shore to sit on large granite ledgerock and observe. The small birds in no way noticed us. They walk near and around us close, pecking, pecking and then up to a tree branch warbling or calling chick a dee, dee, dee sometimes those little birds wearing blackcaps repeated the dees 23 times determined to make their point. Aren’t we all?
Around 2:00 pm, it seemed the rain had finished. Still no sun, but a good time to dry out everything.We strung rope I had rescued from my many days on trails. They were just discard pieces of detritus left without a second thought, now strung together their life was extended to hold more items and help them dry. Functionality. Important stuff. By sunset everything was put back together. Albeit a little damp, all was functional.
We paddled around Lake Agnes in the waning light. We went across the river to where the ten trumpeters lived. It gave us a lot of pleasure to be so close to them. To hear the Whoomp Whoomp of the wings so heavy, just beating on the water to take off. To hear the echoes of the trumpeters bugling so loud it stirred everything in your musical soul. Another night maybe closer to our resident bear. Maybe sniffing the breeze to catch our sent. Terry says bears don’t want our vegetarian food but it seems they want berries and peanut butter.
Mountain Peace 