The world looks different from the middle of a lake
The branch of a mulberry tree hangs over the parking lot, dangling ripe berries to within easy reach. I pluck a few, taste the seedy, mildly tart pulp. It’s a humid morning, overcast, warm but not oppressive. The threat of a storm hangs in the heavy clouds, but it doesn’t feel imminent. The air is still, with only the slightest breeze to shake the mulberry leaves, to ruffle the surface of the nearby lake I’ve come to drift upon at Olive Creek State Recreation Area.
I unpack my bright yellow inflatable kayak from its plastic tub, roll it out on the parking lot gravel. Doing this, I always check for broken glass first. Smashed beer bottles are an all too common spoor of local knuckleheads. Then I use an electric pump that plugs into my van’s cigarette lighter, and within a few minutes the kayak is pumped up and ready to go.
I piece the paddle together, tighten its joints, don my life jacket, and I’m set. I heft the lightweight kayak over to the boat launch.
A few years ago, my wife and I had purchased a canoe, and we pictured ourselves out every weekend, intrepid “voyageurs” on the lakes and rivers of Nebraska. And we did use it a few times, but not as much as we’d expected. It was just too hard to get its heavy, awkward bulk onto and off the top of our vehicle. So one year, I think it was for Mother’s Day, I bought her an inexpensive and very lightweight inflatable kayak. She loved it. It was just the thing for the kind of casual paddling on local lakes we were really inclined to do. Soon, I’d bought my own, a different, larger model. Mine’s billed as being a two-person craft, and that’s true, it does come with two seats. But it’s mighty cramped, especially for the paddler in the rear, whose jutting knees interfere with paddling. So we normally use it as a single seater.
I set the kayak down into the water. Now comes the hard part, getting myself into it with some degree of grace and dignity. Sometimes when I’m getting in, the shore is lined with fishermen, all of whom turn their gaze my direction. Under such scrutiny, I try hard not to take an ungainly tumble but instead to look like a competent outdoorsman. This can be hard to fake. Thankfully there’s no audience today as I settle myself into the shaky seat.
With my paddle, I push away from the shore, drift through patches of bright green algae and a dead catfish only just beginning to stink. Fortunately, the water gets more pleasant away from shore. I wonder if this algae is the kind that makes our lakes so toxic. The Nebraska Department of Environmental Quality website says that the toxic algae has “a neon green, pea green, blue-green or reddish-brown color.” Hah, that really narrows it down, doesn’t it. Today, I’m not worried, but the effects of this algae on local lakes is troubling. A lot of these lakes would be lovely to swim in on a hot summer day, but even if a toxic algae alert hasn’t officially been issued, I’m not sure I’d risk it.
To my mind, the causes of these toxic blooms, runoff of fertilizer from nearby farms, hasn’t been adequately addressed by local politicians. If a factory put these sorts of contaminants into local waterways, there’d be a crackdown. But agriculture has its own set of rules. Holmes Lake, which has little or no agriculture in its watershed, just lots of lawns, is the one lake where it seems serious efforts are being made to reduce fertilizer runoff. Even still, it’s a challenge getting people to reduce fertilizer use in a town with such an entrenched lawn fetish. Maybe if this program is successful, someday we’ll be able to swim at Holmes Lake.
I paddle to the middle of the lake, drift in a casual circle, panning the horizon. The quiet is lovely. The far shore’s reflection shimmers in the still lake. Even familiar scenery looks interesting and new from this perspective. The world looks different from the middle of a lake.
I paddle south to the marshy areas. In the spring, I’ve seen lots of shore birds and water birds here, teal, greater yellowlegs, even pelicans, but none are around this far into the summer. Most of those birds have flown off to Canada to nest and breed.
A bit of a breeze comes up, blowing from the north. Given the threat of storm, I fear the wind might stiffen and I’ll need to paddle back directly into it, not an easy task. So I decide to head for the north end of the lake now. That way, if a storm does come up quickly, its wind will push me in the direction I want to go, back to the boat launch.
I stroke along at a leisurely pace, left, right, left, right. Inflatable kayaks are definitely slower cutting through the water than their hard-shell siblings. And they’re not as nimble, either. So if you have a need for speed or plan a lot of whitewater trips, I’d recommend the hard-shell variety. But inflatables are fine for this sort of leisure activity. Be sure to get a skeg, an attachable external fin, or, trust me, you’ll spend time paddling in circles. Generally, though, inflatable kayaks are pretty simple to navigate and control. And there’s no need to learn the Eskimo roll. They are hard to dump. But of course not impossible. That’s what the life jacket is for.
The wind never does pick up but quiets again, and a few drops of rain speckle the lake surface. I paddle into a cove in the northwest corner of the lake, startling a heron up. The water here is still as glass. Drifting 20 feet from shore, I’m in a good location to watch birds in the shoreline trees of ash, locust and hackberry. A rose-breasted grosbeak perches in a treetop. An eastern kingbird swoops from a branch to snatch a bug over the water then returns to its perch. A catbird mews. Cardinals sing from somewhere out of sight. Red-winged blackbirds cackle in the reeds, while a few swallows circle over the water. Looking at all these birds through binoculars as the kayak drifts, I find myself getting queasy.
A fish breaks the surface nearby. I’m not fishing today, but kayaks make fine craft from which to fish. I’ve used this one for trout fishing on lakes in Colorado and found it ideal.
As I head back to the boat launch, I swing around a tree snag poking out of the water. Such snags are my biggest concern paddling an inflatable craft on these local lakes. I see myself running into a sharp, submerged branch, tearing a big hole in the bottom and swimming back to shore. So I give these branches a wide berth. Actually, our kayaks have proven very sturdy, and they’ve not even sprung a small leak. But there’s no need to risk my luck among the snags.
As with most things, you can spend as much money as you’re willing to part with for a kayak. Top of the line models can put you out more than $2000. But since we aren’t planning any grand adventures, and since we’re tightwads, we got ours for less than $150 each.
Eastern Nebraska has loads of small lakes that are ideal for leisurely kayaking. Mostly we paddle on Holmes Lake, which is near our house, but it’s fun to investigate some of the others, farther from home, an impulse that has brought me to Olive Creek this morning. There are also some local rivers that are suitable for kayaks and canoes. Nebraska Game and Parks has an excellent website titled “Nebraska water trails guide” with lots of information on those river trip options.
Someday I might even try one of those trips myself. But today, I lack the ambition for such an adventure and am content to spend an hour or two paddling and drifting, noticing how the world looks different from the middle of a lake.
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