Sixmile Creek
by Scott Shaffer

It’s a muggy, summer afternoon; 90+ degrees blaze down from the cloudless,
blue sky. My buddy and I are undeterred, swabbed with sunscreen, hoping for
a shaded kayak adventure. The country road by Hudson leads to Sixmile Creek.

Unloading my boat, I shoo a buzzing wasp from my car. My mate calls up
from the bank, “Got more of those friends down here!” We squish through mud
(and welcome committee), flop into cockpits, rock our way into floating lily pads.

I sigh–“Ah, life-giving water, at last!” We wind through a kind of wasteland:
gnarly dead trees of different girth and height, peeling grey bark, no leaves–
grim sentinels guarding the “back country.” It’s stark, strange; but I sense

a “rightness” being here–another “Ah,” like when your view snaps into focus
in your binoculars. We meander upstream through murky sediment from last
night’s storm, relishing our plod. Paddle drips sprinkling my exposed knees

don’t bug me; I’m thinking only, “This is where I need to be!” Tall timber
with rich, green foliage soon greets us with shade and a soft breeze; so, we linger
and chat–a family reunion, personal challenges, wife and kids, much more.

Going back, we struggle to plow ahead over a fallen limb barely below surface.
I jab at it, push off, paddle hard, my kayak wobbles, water spills in, drenches
my shorts. I’m grinning, still exulting, glad to be here, thankful I didn’t capsize.

Approaching our put-in place, I’m about to accelerate to “ramming speed,”
when my fellow traveler points left and whispers, “Look!” Ten yards away,
hidden in high reeds, a kneeling doe stares at us, only her wide eyes in sight.

We sit still. Gaze back. Then her ears perk up, she leaps, retreats
into the reeds, tail flashing. Being on the water energizes me!
Being on the water with a friend is even better.



 

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