2 May 2016
We wake to the sound of a distant owl calling, “who cooks for you?” (Barred owl) The
air is so moist that the woods around our tent look misty. At least
the air is a bit cooler than yesterday. Breakfast is blueberry scones
baked in our frittata pan on the Coleman stove. The coffee is pretty
good with our unrefrigerated mini-moo creamers.
We take our time this morning, first returning to the visitor center to seek
help identifying the pretty red flower with yellow top we had seen on
our approach to Weston Lake yesterday. The two volunteers there help
us confirm that it is Spigelia Marilandica, also known as pink root
or Indian pink.
Our plan this morning is to (finally) take out the Sea Eagle and try paddling
a bit of Cedar Creek. It takes about 30 minutes to inflate our little
canoe with the foot pump. (Yesterday we met a man with a thick
Russian accent who was loading his Sea Eagle into the back of his
truck. He suggested getting a larger pump and keeping the other as a
spare. Otherwise he was pleased with his Sea Eagle.) As we are putting in, a water moccasin slithers off the bank and into the stream.
We paddle past many red-bellied water snakes,
reassured after our visit to the park in SC to know that they are
non-venomous. We hear owls calling back and forth across the creek,
see a large turtle, a prothonotary warbler, fish jumping, a swooping raptor moving too fast to identify, and two friendly African American gentlemen fishing from the bank, one of whom I can barely understand due to his thick accent, and the other who is concerned that O will have to rescue me if I fall in the creek since I have taken my PFD off in the heat.
As the afternoon wears on the sky darkens and we take out under threat of
thunderstorm. We return to camp and sit quietly after finishing dinner. The evening is warm and humid. We listen to the birdsong and the distant rumble
of thunder. Clean-up is put off until the temperature drops a
bit more. The sun is now behind tree and cloud. I can hear flickers,
towhees and unknown birds. I have to put my journal in its protective
ziplock bag with the arrival of sequential vigorous thunderstorms
which send a fine spray under our tarp. We sit and watch from our
little chairs. I have my feet up on the picnic table bench and do not
realize we have accumulated an inch deep lake under the table until I
stand up. We take advantage of a brief break in the storm to get some
of our gear (hiking boots, books, etc. back to the car where it can
stay dry. At the second break in the downpour we dive into the tent for the night.
Heavy rains continue on and off all night, but we stay amazingly dry
in our REI quarterdome. Our only moisture problem comes from
condensation. We fall asleep, somewhat concerned about what the
morning conditions will be for taking down camp.