Before The Cloudburst

Some pics from a recent kayaking glide down the Swift River; crystal clear as always and splashingly cool in the humid afternoon.





Putting in at the Belchertown boat launch, I didn't go the whole way downstream into Bondsville as is usually the case, but rather stuck around the boat launch area, gliding a little bit upstream this time. Under the low overpass and towards the fly-fishermen area where the river crosses route 9.



The humid afternoon was threatening to give way to thunderstorms, so it was best to stay relatively close to the vehicle, should things get all lightening and hail-ey.



Luckily, there's no need to paddle for miles on this river to get a good dose of nature. There's plenty on the nearest bank and overhanging branch, if you look closely.





And look closely I did.





The dragongflies were all over the place. Sunning themselves between grabs for smaller bugs on the wing, or dive bombing the surface of the water for nymphs and such.



They seemed pretty preoccupied with their endeavours, and didn't seem to notice me too much as I got right up in their grille (as it were) with the camera.

Pretty relaxed in these fattest of days. It's summertime, and the livin's easy.



Higher up the food chain, some humans nearby were busy setting up a swing rope.



While man and beast glided by underneath in both directions.



A slight darkening of the sky, a few last minute bobs....



...and the first drops were being felt. Time to head back, and quick.

Elswell That Ends Well

It was the first launching this year for the trusty kayak, to round out a pleasant Memorial Day weekend. The course was for a late afternoon float around Elwell Island; one of the biggest islands in the Connecticut river, if not the biggest. Shoving off from the dock at the Elwell Recreation area about 5:30ish, several contented looking kayakers and other floaters were just pulling in, from their own mid afternoon outings.







Elwell island is about 60 acres in area, at one time used for pasture land. The island is now edged by thick forest but there's still a big meadow right in the middle. I'm not sure how they did it back in the day, but getting the animals on or off the island must have been some work (but maybe that was the idea).

The Norwottuck's old rail-bridge-turned-bike trail uses the southern end of the island as a stepping stone, where it enters and re-emerges from the trees midway across the wide river.





Nearby and just to the south is the much more modern and recently renovated Calvin Coolidge bridge (route 9)...



It takes about 2 miles of paddling to circumnavigate Elwell island. This day the course was set for a counter-clockwise loop around; tackling the wider, busier eastern branch of the river first. This is the side where the power boaters hurl themselves up and down the waterway at whatever speeds available. Kayakers are well advised to hug the shores here, and brace for wakes...



After fighting and losing against a few of the higher wakes myself, I took a break and went ashore to dry off a little, and do a little exploring...



Other than an abandoned campsite, the island appeared totally devoid of natives. But there were a lot of birds were singing high above, in a forest of cottonwoods and black willows that is growing thick in the flood plain soil of the island.



Unfortunately it was too late in the day for a more thorough exploration of the dark interiors of the island, and I was a little too light on bug repellent for that kind of jungle trek anyway. A trip for another time. For now, back to the open water...as it were.

Around to the northern end of the island, where on the opposite shore some kids were cashing in on the little luxuries of life...



...then down the peaceful western side. I pulled the paddles out of the water and gently floated along with the slow current; milking the last leg of the journey and racing cottonwoods seeds as they floated and landed like snowflakes all around.





Carried along slowly like little more than driftwood, even the ducks don't seem to mind if you get a little close.



Finally, the dock came within sight again as the sun was nearly down; casting reddish on everything.







Just a few more minutes to linger, then it's time to take out...



...just as the last of the day, and the last of the holiday weekend, has come.

Mini-Sargasso

The humidity hung in there on Monday. The kayak was loaded up, and I was headed out in the afternoon. En route I decided the destination would be Fitzgerald Lake, for a little paddling and maybe a couple casts. I made a quick stop at Dave's Pioneer Sporting Center for some night crawlers on the way...



I've never been in there before, but I have noticed the various displays Dave prominently puts out front, on the edge of Damon Road. It's usually a mannequin, dressed in the heighth of the season's hunting or fishing fashion. But today it was a big wooden fish cut-out at the side of the road, with a fishing rod and line hooked to it's mouth. Good omen, I thought...

I parked at the North Farms Road entrance to the Fitzgerald Lake Conservation Area. To get a canoe, kayak, or other watercraft onto the lake, you have to huff it for a little ways down the trail, and then down a long wooden walkway, to a small dock at the end. It's not really far, but juuust far enough, where I was beginning to think I wasn't going to make it, without having to put the thing down and rest. But putting the kayak down and picking it up again would have been an even bigger strain, and time consuming, so I gritted my teeth and trudged on, swinging the kayak around and switching shoulders a few times...



It was a bit of a workout, but at last I made it. Getting ready to launch, it seemed the water on Fitzgerald Lake was kind of low, but maybe it was just that the grasses were so incredibly high. Launching from the dock required navigating through a particularly narrow opening through the grass.



And just breaking clear of the tall grasses, a morass of vegetation as far as can be seen, suddenly surrounds the craft.



Sargasso Sea. I don't know why, but that name has always stuck with me, ever since I first heard of it in the fourth grade reading about Columbus' voyage. A vast sea of mucky vegetation. Add dead winds, and sailors went mad...

The madness might have taken this unfortunate fellow, as he risked standing up in his little boat...but I suppose the thick weeds made the boat more stable for standing.



After pushing against the vegetation, rather than paddling, I finally found a kind of pathway. It was like a trail through the woods, in a watery sort of way.



The lilly pads, and clouds of gel-like eggs that coated the perimeters of the water trail, had made the water below appear black, for lack of light.





One thing I didn't see was any Water Chestnut. The invasive species was recently the focus of a couple volunteer efforts over the past couple years, to rid the lake of the pesky weed...

Following the water trail for a bit, it finally opened into a much more rewarding, wide open paddling environment. The wind also happened to pick up at this point, and pushed me northeast, exactly where I want to go, to the far end of the lake. There is a small dam there, and I let the wind push me right up against the bank. I cast out a night crawler, and leaned back to enjoy some of the waining summer sun, and some peace and quiet...

High up above, Swifts and Swallows swirled around in a dogfight of epic proportions.



Closer to Earth, a Blue Heron slowly gained speed and altitude, as it lifted off for new hunting grounds.



Just over my shoulder, a dragonfly hung on tight to a cattail; waiting for the latest gusts to subside.



Just then came a tug, tug, at the end of the fishing line. Reflexively I gave it a strong tug back, and the rod bent over, and the line moved across the water. Aaaah, Got one..!



I reeled it in after a short fight and admired the catch for a minute. Setting the fish free and reaching for another night crawler to bait the hook again., I pulled out this poor guy, who must have seen what happened to his cousin...setting his stomach in knots...



The night crawlers definitely did their duty today, as I then reeled in a small bass, and four bluegill/pumpkinseed type fish; kind of large for their type, but no trophy catches. Still, I was hooking them often enough to keep myself happily preoccupied. I'd used to occasionally take home what I caught, and miserably destroy the fish as I attempted to cook or fry it. But I haven't done that lately. I probably will again, but for now there's a lot of talk against eating them. Are the fish really dangerous to eat? I don't know... You decide. Either way it's a real chore to scale, gut and cook them...This much I know for sure.

The sun was dropping low, and before I knew it, it was time to head back in...



I made my way back up the water trail, and was back in home port in no time.





The peaceful, (well, not for the fish), kayak outing worked, and a sense of relaxation had fallen over me. But now...time to lug the kayak back. Oof. Back to reality...