Canoeing on Klamath Lake

When I was a little girl, I learned to swim in a small mountain river. I still remember that first time swimming across to the rocks on the other side. It was a goal and an accomplishment that felt so good. I've swum and been on lakes, rivers and the ocean in motorboats, ferries, rowboats, inflatable rafts, dories, but never in a canoe. I always admired canoes, their beauty, quietness, grace as they glide through the water. Both of my kids and their families canoe. I can't quite say why I never had, but that changed on Klamath Lake.

Canoes are as graceful as I imagined. Getting a feeling of balance took a bit of doing. I was fortunate the experience was on a lake, no current with which to deal, and my teacher (son-in-law) was good at it. Other than possibly making a fool of myself, I wasn't afraid because I do swim well (not to mention life jackets). I want to get comfortable enough with the experience to swim out from the canoe-- and get back in when out on the water. Right now if I tipped it over, I'd have to tow it to shore to get back in.

Once past learning some of the basics, I loved how with a canoe you see paths. Even in the main lake, you look across to where you want to go and you see the way. When you are in marshes, the reeds part, water is entering the lake, you wonder how far does it go? How deep is it? It only has to be 10" deep according to our son-in-law.

You glide forward with each stroke of the paddle. If there is a photograph to take, you lay the paddle across the gunwales and hear the drip of the water as you absorb, seemingly through your whole body, the surrounding beauty and silence. Maybe it's because a canoe glides like the water birds, but it is as though I am part of all around me. The silence is broken only by the sound of the paddle dipping into the water-- unless a fish jumps, a beaver splashes off a bank, or a duck takes flight.

The water was so clear that I could look deep into it and see the fish swimming. Although I hoped to see a grebe down there on one of its dives, I was never in the right place-- or it was too smart for me. Up one of those lake 'paths', we stopped the canoes, found a shady spot, tied the two canoes together, let the grandkids swim, and my daughter and son-in-law opened a bottle of chilled white wine. Now that's my idea of roughing it.

A dream is the other side of the lake but in our subconscious. The path to it often isn't clear. It is frustrating when unfulfilled. We can get to thinking it might be better to forget it-- except, I believe in dreams. They are important for quality of life and we shouldn't lose track of what ours are.

Canoeing had been one of mine. Another involves riding a well-behaved horse, who loves me (even with fantasies I qualify), high into the mountains, pitching a tent by a lake where I swim, sketch, take photographs, lie in the sun, hike, maybe fish, and cook a simple meal over a little stove. (Romantic image or not, I've cooked over campfires and prefer Sterno stoves!) It's a dream that may remain a dream-- although you never know. Sometimes, as happened with me on Klamath Lake, dreams are fulfilled when we least expect it.