As we enter fall, Flathead Lake tends to have more low cloud banks in the early morning. When the light breaks through, it can make for some stunning sunrise colors.
Cedar Island
Cedar Island is great for circumnavigating with a kayak. It is relatively small with a shoreline that varies between dramatic rock outcroppings and smooth gravel beaches. The multi-colored stones on the beaches are worn and rounded and easy on bare feet. On a hot summer day, swimming in the surrounding clear, cool water is as enjoyable as it looks inviting. I actually enjoy snorkeling there. There are not too many tropical fish, but the underwater rock formations are fascinating! But then, of course, I’m a rock guy too.
Deck Cam Sunrise: Veterans Day
Wow! What a fitting patriotic looking sunrise. Thank you to all that served.
Note To Self
As Homer would exclaim, “D’oh!”
Note to self: When boarding a kayak from a boat swim platform early in the morning, make sure that you first have had your coffee. Then with senses fully activated, be certain to move deliberately, while at the same time maintaining a well-centered posture. This is no time for hesitation. No time for self-doubt.
On my way into the “drink”—for the brief microsecond after I realized my hapless miscalculation—it occurred to me that the water I was rolling towards (in an inadvertent Eskimo roll) was going to be very, very cold. Painfully cold. It was, after all, a chilly morning.
But it wasn’t painful, surprisingly. It was almost sort of warm—well in relationship to the surrounding air anyway.
Marlene woke up startled to a loud splash. The morning was otherwise quiet and calm. When she finally found the source of the splash, she looked down at me and shook her head. I am certain that I heard her mumble something under her breath too.
She denied it, but she said something.
Sailors & Smokers
In an earlier life, Marlene and I were sailors. For five winters, we actually lived on a sailboat with our two children and a cat. We had been inspired by such sailing movie classics as The Dove, Wind, and, of course, Captain Ron.
Here is a short clip from Captain Ron (my all-time favorite silly movie):
In those days, we frowned upon dirty, noisy “smoker boats.” Sailors can be snobs. Sometimes they have a haughty air about them—much like garish-colored-spandex appareled bicyclists, who hug the road’s shoulder-line “because they can.” So when Kevin Costner released Waterworld in 1995, we felt that our indignation was at last vindicated in a more snob-less manner (or, at least, we knew that it would be in some waterlogged future).
But that was then and this is now. We have since modified our position on “smokers.” One’s self interests will sometimes do that.
Sadly—or perhaps happily (another story for another day)—the time came for us to sell our Florida Gulf Coast based sailboat. “Those dang kids got older and needed proper school’n.” Plus, they were picking up too many bad words hanging around the docks.
This occurred long before our migration to the Rocky Mountains.
So as Montanans, we were mariners no more. We had boxed up our charts and harness life jackets, deflated our dinghy, and stopped subsidizing the Fort Myers West Marine boat supply store. And even though this post-sailboat life gave us back money for food and such, we missed the wind in our faces and the smell of the sea.
Alas, this seafarer yearning and mariner envy finally took another abrupt turn this past summer.
We purchased a boat from a good friend—though a “smoker boat.” We did so, because we knew the boat and we knew it had an unused cuddy cabin. You see, what we missed most about our sailboat days was not the foul language of our fellow sailors or the endless repairs and removal of saltwater corrosion, but rather the “anchoring out”—those magical starlit nights “on the hook.” As it turned out, this new old boat—this “smoker boat”—could be deployed from a trailer quickly and easily, and its 350 smokey horses could get us to our preferred anchorage on Flathead Lake, pronto. For the two of us, it provided a great “anchoring out” platform and a Mother Ship for our more earth-friendly kayaks. We actually regard it more as a travel trailer on water than as a boat.
Still, we felt self-conscious anchoring among (mostly) sailboats. We knew that they looked at us as we once would have looked at us—with that Kevin Costner stare of disdain. And it made us feel (a little) bad.
But don’t worry. We’ll get over it.
Kevin did.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_/)~~~~~
PS: Here’s a short clip from Waterworld that explains everything that you need to know about “smokers.”
Kayaking Wild Horse Island
From the anchorage at Wild Horse Island’s Skeeko Bay, Marlene and I generally go on morning and evening shoreline excursions. We are, pretty much, fair-weather kayakers—going only when the conditions are ideal. And we are, pretty much, shore-huggers—rarely crossing wide open water. We use the Mother Ship for that.
Indeed, the beauty of the kayak—aside from being quiet—is that it allows you to hug the shoreline. Our kayaks are, what I call “Tupperware,” so we do not worry about scrapping underwater rocks. To be sure, much of the enjoyment is looking down into the swallow crystal clear water and viewing the submerged shore.
I am an old BWCA Wilderness canoe guy from Minnesota. Many of Flathead Lake’s rocky shorelines remind me of those voyageur days.
