Taking possession of the lake on an early morning paddle
I pushed the old canoe out into the lake amidst the rising mist. Limekiln Lake was so calm that morning that I could hear every drop of water dribbling from the end of my paddles as I dipped them into the lake.
My dog Mutt ran the shoreline trying to keep up with my pace. Some areas along the edge of the water were clear, but in other stretches she had to fight the underbrush. At regular intervals I saw her in the water, swimming close to the shoreline and whimpering as she traced my route.
As a kid, I liked summer days such as this. The water had a summer smell that was clean yet slightly stale. The edges of the lake were filled with sprouts of green and lilies that seemed to rise from nowhere.
I slowly paddled my craft that windless day, watching the lake come to life.
Off in the distance I heard the sound of a screen door opening and the quick bark of a small dog. The rhythmic pounding of a hammer indicated to me that someone was putting on a new roof.
I looked down at my feet and saw that a shallow puddle had formed on the floor of the canoe. Water was slowly leaking into my craft. I had brought an old coffee can with me to bail water from the boat just in case. However, not enough water had made its way in for me to use it.
I had just rounded the point on the lake past the King camp when Mutt decided to dive in and reconnoiter my progress. She snorted water as she swam with all her might towards my boat.
I stopped and let the canoe drift a bit while she made a circle round me. Then she let out a whimper and headed back to shore. I went to follow her and dipped my paddle in for a couple of quick strokes.
I was making real good speed when I saw a yellow flip flop floating in the water. Reaching out with the end of my paddle I corralled it and brought it in close to the boat. I retrieved it and began to wonder if its owner was somewhere close by, or if they had drowned.
I lifted my hand to my brow and shielded my eyes from the blazing sun as I scanned the depth and surface of the clear water for the flip flop’s owner.
When I found nothing, I floated idylly along in the sun-rippled water.
I paddled the shoreline for an hour or more as Mutt made regular swim-out visits from shore. The lake had come to life with the sounds of laughing children and a motor boat with a waterskier in tow.
But for a short time the water was all ours. Flat, clean and silent on a summer day—growing up Adirondack.
Mitch Lee, Adirondack
native & storyteller,
lives at Big Moose Lake.
ltmitch3rdny@aol.com
