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Kayaking

I went out on the lake in the kayak just a little bit ago. I went down to the spillway, where Lake Macbride spills over into the Coralville Resevoir. This keeps the water level from getting any higher than where it usually is. Outgoing, I was paddling into the sun, but once I was out there, I took my time getting back. I'd take in the scenery, paddle along the far shore, and enjoy the tranquility that comes from this near-communing with nature. I don't think you can really get what I'm saying just from reading this unless you've experienced such a thing in your own life. It's probably a lot of what Thoreau was trying to get across in Walden. I was so surprised about how close I was getting to some of these creatures. I was drifting into a little cove and was turning to go on when right in front of me was a woodchuck, just enjoying the evening. There were herons and hawks, gulls and pipers. There were fish sanctuaries in the submerged and long-dead trees. The way the sun was slanting through the sky into the trees set the shore ablaze with verdant fire. Alas, I was getting tired from my watery trek, and I returned to dock with a sense that I'd really been rejuvenated, quite literally. I haven't had such a sense of wonderment in so many years. It makes me think. Is this why my dad was so in love with the out-of-doors? He didn't seem to care about the hunt or the fishing as much as just going out there. I understand him better everytime I look at this little bit of what man is no longer.

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