Eagle Lake – Day 2 It’s dreary and wet again today. Fortunately, the house owner has said it will be fine for me to stay over another night. Since the house has just been opened for the season, there are very limited groceries in the house. Besides, I should at least pay for my own food! So I head to Battle Lake, to pick up a few groceries. It’s raining and cool, but I don’t think it’s far. Eight miles down the road, is a grocery. They have fresh blueberries, cheese, salad fixings, and other things that I enjoy. Once loaded back up, I head back to the lake house. Although the rain comes down heavier on the way back, I now know how far I have to go, and what the terrain is like, so it’s an easier ride. The only problem is that I did wash all my cycling clothes yesterday and didn’t want to dirty any of them, so I’m cycling in wet, knit cotton pants. That chafes my skin quickly. Not my smartest moment. Once back at the house, I make a delicious quesadilla and have a piece of sponge cake with fresh blueberries. The sky is getting a little lighter, as the cloud cover thens, but still no blue sky visible. Herons and pelicans fly by the front of the house as a loon dives and earns his meals out beyond the dock. The pelicans always remind me of a limerick I learned in high school: a wonderful bird is the pelican his beak can hold more than his belican he can hold in his beak food enough for a week though I do not see how in the helican It’s a beautiful place to take a rainy day “off” the bike. Go make your own breeze and remember: if you’re not having fun; you’re in the wrong gear!
It has warmed up and cleared off. The day on the lake is spiritual. The loons are chuckling and racing across the water like speedboats up on their pads, nothing touching the water, but the powerful propellors, pushing them along. Beneath the dock, there are civilizations of fry or minnows apparently dangling from the surface of the water. Musky dash through and not a single minnow is perterbed, knowing that their destiny is secure for the moment by the sacrifice of fry earlier in the hour. Across the water, the clouds rest above a serene setting of sinuous hills pimpled with trees, silos and summer homes. Cotton candy, not yet sticky with the humidity of summer. Fresh, crisp, sweet. The hammered pewter of the water surface winks in repetition of the darting silver fishes beneath. This contrast of serenity, to the frenzy of worklife is what gives us standards by which to measure our happiness. All along my journey of preparation, and then experience of this trip, people have asked me if I’ve read Steinbeck’s “Travels with Charlie”. I haven’t But today, in this lakeside cabin, I find the book among the word safes in the den. An old copy. Picked up at a second hand book-store. It is infested with mildew and crippled with age, and yet, it is preserved. Found worthy of preservation. Perhaps saved for just this day, to fall into my hands. (in the foreground, a loon howls; and to my left, another chuckles a response. Although nearly devoic of people, the lake swarms with activity.) I won’t finish it before leaving, but have begun it, and find that although Steinbeck and I have never met, he speaks my mind in so many things. It will be with joy, that I leave it behind, only to find it another time, and continue our acquaintence. A few boats are coming out on the lake. It’s a Saturday and it has cleared and the sun is shining. Young men are unloading a fishing boat at the public landing, and a pontoon boat approaches with children and parents, cheerful for the first outing of the spring. OH, no. Not a fishing boat, but a boistrous jet ski. I must go make dinner. and return to Charley. Will post pics later. C