Labor Day has forever been exactly that in the Rike household. Stay home and work on house projects. Borrrring! This year was different. Mick decided to take me somewhere on Monday so I could kayak while he would sit in a camp chair on the shore and read some kind of sci-fi novel. It so happened that on Sunday we learned of the Catamount Reservoirs on Pike’s Peak. All these years in this state and I never heard of them?!
Monday came and off we went South on I-25 to 24 West to Pike’s Peak Highway. The day seemed specially made. Vibrant, blue skies, fluffy clouds, temperature perfect. North Catamount Reservoir was stunningly beautiful.
I inflated my little yellow craft and launched on a new adventure. As is my custom, I explored every nook and cranny of the crystal clear body of water. One inlet had no sign of human visitation and was totally silent, still. My eyes drank in the beauty while my soul soaked up the restorative quiet. Hmmm, a bit reminiscent of the most familiar Psalm, “He leads me beside still waters, He restores my soul.”
Cruising on, for there was much more to see, including recreating fisher folks on the shore while the fish were leaping as high as twelve inches above the water’s surface out where I was. Either these edible creatures couldn’t understand English when I encouraged them to go towards the bait, or they knew they were safer out by me.
Portions of the lake were smooth as glass while others had a slight current pushing or pulling me. I soon realized there were more acres to paddle than I had thought. For a moment, but only that, I considered not following my custom. “I may never come here again. I have to see it and paddle it all.” On I went, farther from where I launched. A thought that “I have to get back, do I have enough in me.?” drifted through my mind. Stroke, stroke, stroke. No gentle push to help me here. Now using landmarks as goals to get me to the end of the reservoir. “I’ll go to that tree and see how I feel.” “Now, to the rock up ahead and then I’ll turn around.”
Within a few yards of my goal, suddenly I noticed a change. The winds came up. Something in me said, “Turn around NOW!” Obeying, I was now paddling into the wind that was creating waves with white caps. All systems on alert for this was my first time kayaking in these conditions. I was not sure how my little boat would do. It was a pretty bumpy ride. I had to keep stroking or I would lose ground quickly. Fear tried to join me with headline thoughts “Kayaker Lost on North Catamount.” The near panic was short-lived as I prayed for calm and strength to complete this adventure. There was something about this that was scary and exhilarating at the same time.
After a few minutes of intense paddling, my arms were getting tired. In a brief break between wind gusts, I rested a bit and rode the waves but never relaxed my attention to the conditions. Back to serious stroking. I began to get in a bit of a rhythm but I could not fully return to the still place of an hour ago. Again I used markers on the shore to help me not think about how far I still had to go.
There were very few others on the lake and they were far away. So getting assistance was not an option. I had to finish this myself. I set my focus on the destination and paddled on. My arms got over being tired and went on what seemed auto pilot. I became one with my yellow craft as we fought the blustery winds and choppy waves. This continued for many minutes when I noticed ahead other kayakers just floating and looking up. As I reached them I became aware the wind had decreased. I relaxed my pace and gazed upward to find a beautiful bald eagle soaring on the breeze, swooping down, then back up high in a showy display of majesty. As I took it in, I was reminded of how I have always wanted to soar like an eagle.
The rest of the journey to where I had launched and to Mick was joy. I had just experienced an adventure that was a picture of life.
I encourage you to take a few moments and reflect on the ways this story can be meaningful on your personal journey.