M bo batan

There's too much for me to do today, but a quick trip to the west end of #1 island is necessary. On my last trip out, it appeared that the great blue herons were about to congregate. For two years running, they have collected in a heavy concentration on #1 island, about 2 dozen in just 50 to 75 yards of shoreline.

I take the shortest portage down to the south lagoon. There is a stiff and cold wind out of the south although the precise direction is never clear in this spot. The wind curls and passes over and around the hills of Seattle to get here, so it can finally arrive from unlikely directions. It will be a short trip, that is for sure, as any paddling into the wind will be hard work indeed.

When I get up to the west lodge I find 15 Canada geese milling about on it. Crazy time for the geese, they seem to be staking out turf even though they won't nest until May.


A few more yards and I reach #1 island finding only four herons which fly off well before they should. Nervous, I suppose. Maybe they congregated during the weekend when I was away, or its possible that it hasn't happened or is happening somewhere else. Nothing to do but come back again.

I grind my way back south so that I can paddle a little while longer in the lee of the beaver forests. Not much happens other than a quick chat with a man who was exploring the rougher edges of the marsh by foot. We both agreed that it was a fine day.

I start in the south lagoon. There is still ice here and a thin layer of fog forms on it. After two warm days with rain the ice is deceptively weak. It pops and cracks as I scoot the canoe across it. Once in the canoe, I find that I can break through 2 inch thick ice. Unseen flaws have formed in the ice during the rain. The canoe rides up on the thicker ice and then a crack zips out like a thin black bolt of lightning, the canoe sags and settles into the water. I cannot round the burial island. Instead I play with blocks of ice for a while, and then, move off. Yesterday, I toiled all day on a problem that I could not solve. Today, I need to paddle away. I need to paddle away until I wanted to paddle back. I circle Marsh Island once, noting buffleheads, bathtubs and nurse logs and then head through the cut. It is very calm with greasy clouds, clouds that the sun comes through as a yellow oily smear. I head straight through Portage Bay and follow the west side of Lake Union. Then into the Fremont canal. It was once a thin creek that dropped twelve feet in about a half mile to Salmon Bay. That was over a hundred years ago. Salmon Bay is busy with Kvichak launching a new boat. There are two large cranes and a tug to handle the job. The tug wash nearly blows me into a moored boat as I pass. I stop at Fishermans Terminal for lunch and I am ready to return. I have paddled away enough. At Kvichak, the boat is less than halfway out of the shed. There are scaups in the canal. I don't know why they prefer here, but they do. I rarely see them in other parts of the waterway. I head down Lake Union and take out at a place that is 200 yards south of my normal spot. The view is all different. Such a difference for such a small distance, but all the buildings and boats are a different scale from here.