Larry continued taking us further east toward an island. The closer we drew to the island the higher my excitement climbed. The reflection of the island was a water color painting; dark forest green, blurred with sky blue. This was as much of a paradise island as any in the Caribbean or south Pacific (though I’ve never been to either). I don’t think it necessary for people to leave Minnesota to find their little slice of paradise. The north part of the island was covered densely with trees and had a rocky shore with no beach. The southern side was also tree covered but had a sandy beach. The middle was open, void of trees though there were other plants growing there, and had a nice sand beach.
“There’s a pair of cranes walking on the beach,” Larry pointed out. I saw them instantly and was elated. I hoped we could get fairly close to them but they were getting edgy and nervous by our approach. We’d only come a tiny bit closer and they flew away. I was bummed to see them go but thrilled we’d seen them even for a brief moment.
Larry indicated a spot to the north of us, “You see that white cluster way up there by those trees?”
“Those are pelicans.”
“Really? That’s so cool!” Unfortunately they were too far away to actually see, to distinguish them as individuals, and even too far away for my 300mm lens to photograph well. But it was still awesome they were there.
Larry beached the canoe. I stepped out on the sand and pulled the canoe further on to the beach. Larry said, “That’s good.” After Hank and Larry were out, he pulled the canoe a little further up on to the sand. He then took his shirt off and jumped into the water. Hank plunged in too. I lingered on the beach looking at the bird feet prints in the sand. Hank was having a blast in the water. After taking in what I could see of the island from my position on the beach, I put my camera back in its case and secured it. Then I took of my shirt, shorts and sandals – I wore my swimsuit underneath. I also removed my sunglasses; putting these items into the canoe.
I walked into the water, delighted to find it wasn’t ice cold nor was it nearly as warm as a bath, but wonderfully refreshingly cool. I dropped into the water once it was about waist high, no longer walking but swimming. Water slipped over my back – it felt so good, far more than the refreshment of plunging into cool water to escape from the heat of a scorching summer day, this feeling was deeper. I’m not sure why I love being in water so much, but the reason is soul deep. I was excited to go swimming again after a few years of not getting a chance to but I was even more thrilled to be swimming in the Weaver Bottoms. Swimming here allowed me to experience the area and connect with it in a whole new way then I had before. Walking the sand dunes and prairie, canoeing the wetlands and hiking them in winter are wonderful in allowing me to connect to and experience the area but plunging myself into its water allowed me to really feel it. I swam out to where Larry was standing. He picked up some mussels from the bottom to show to me. He handed one to me. They were much heavier than I was expecting them to be but I haven’t held one that still housed a live animal.
“The water’s colder out here.” I said.
“It’s from the Whitewater River.” It was noticeably colder and the water became too deep very suddenly. Larry swam back to the shore. He walked a little, threw sticks in the water for Hank to fetch. Then turned the canoe and sat in it, sipping a beer. “Take your time. Swim as long as you’d like.”
I still held the mussel. I was unsure of what to do with it – Do I just drop it? I felt like I needed to be careful. Looking back it seems silly since it was in water – it’d float gently to the bottom. I put my hand under the water and simply let go of the mussel. I swam around for awhile; I’m not sure how long. Although I really enjoyed being in the water and swimming, it felt a bit weird to swim on my own. After I had my fill of swimming alone, I returned to the beach. I asked, “Is this a natural island or is it manmade?”
He explained, “The island is manmade. The islands were created in a misguided attempt to reduce over-sedimentation of the Weaver Bottoms so plant life would proliferate which would habitat for fish and other wildlife. Like so many things, it did not work as planned.”
We decided it was time we headed back. Hank wasn’t too eager to quit swimming but he obeyed Larry’s commands to get into the canoe. We hadn’t brought any towels so we just sun dried in the canoe on the way back to the landing. Larry steered us back across the open water. Through the lotus blossom meadows, the white water lilies, cattails, rushes and sedges, through thick patches of coonstail. And just like that, all too soon we were back at the boat landing. A train was going by. – It was cool to be so close but it was loud too. We pulled the canoe out of the water then Larry went to get the truck so we wouldn’t have to carry the canoe as far. My swimsuit was still a bit wet, especially the bottom, but I slipped my jean shorts and sleeveless button up shirt back on. We loaded the canoe and were on our way.
“Well that was fun,” Larry said as he pulled the truck on to the highway.
“Yeah, sure was!” I replied.