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Rare December paddle holds much beauty

For as long as I have lived at the shore of the lake, waiting for ice has been an intriguing time. It’s late this year, but that’s okay. Each morning the view from my window captivates me. I watch the dawn slowly illuminate the sky.
Mather1660
Columnist Viki Mather writes about what it's like to spend time in the outdoors during this unusually warm December. Supplied photo.
For as long as I have lived at the shore of the lake, waiting for ice has been an intriguing time. It’s late this year, but that’s okay.

Each morning the view from my window captivates me. I watch the dawn slowly illuminate the sky. Just a hint of light replaces the total darkness of the early day. A silhouette of forest becomes visible on the far side of the lake.

If it is not too cloudy or foggy, an area of brilliance will appear behind the island. The sun rises due east at this time of year.

The autumn colours are long gone, and still, there is no monotony to the colours outside. Instead, there are subtleties. A foggy day is full of grey. Deepest dark grey at the far shore, paler grey on the lake, and paler yet in the sky. When the fog lifts a bit, the greys become silver. The scene shimmers with the reflections of silver clouds in the darkness of the frigid water below.

The wind blows a lot this time of year. Mostly from the south this year, which could explain the delay of winter. When it comes from the west, I hear it blowing in the trees. Wind from the northeast and south sends waves crashing on the shore. When the wind stops, the whole world is wrapped in silence.

Sometimes this quiet comes with blue sky and golden sun. And I need to get out there, out onto the lake.

Last week we took advantage of the quiet. We boated across the lake and parked at the end of a portage. Our plan was to hike in to the little lake at the other end and use the canoe cached there to paddle and explore. We packed lunch and enough other stuff to keep us warm and fed should we decide to stay out until late in the day.

The portage began with newly fallen birch trees. Great long skid marks brushed the path where the nearby beaver had dragged the branches. A little further along, a large black spruce had fallen over the trail and we had to make our own path around it. The trail continued, winding up and down, over bedrock and through tight little patches of spruce.

Some of the low areas had puddles a week before. Ice had skimmed their surface, and then the water seeped away. The skim of ice remained suspended over the stones below.

To our surprise, the bay at the end of the portage was covered with ice. There would be no exploring by canoe. The ice was too thick to break through to paddle the canoe, and too thin to walk on its surface.
So, we explored on foot instead.

No matter where we go, beauty surrounds. We discovered an enormous erratic, with a huge white pine perched on top. Its great roots snaked down several feet to the earth below. Decades ago, the growing root split a boulder off the erratic. The geology of the rock held more beauty in the dropstones within.

From the top of the hill we could see that only the narrow bay at the start of the lake was frozen. The sun peeked out from the clouds, warming the shore. We figured that another week of above freezing temperatures would open the little bay, and we might have another chance to paddle before winter arrives.

Viki Mather has been commenting for Northern Life on the natural world and life in Greater Sudbury since the spring of 1984.

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