Beyond the Bend

I steered the kayak around the bend in the stream...and the world changed.

Gone were the waterfront homes with their private boat slips. Gone were the marinas managed by small communities.  Gone were the speed boats that navigated the wider sections of the body of water known as Herring Creek.

Here, where the creek began as a shallow and narrow stream, bulrush grew deep and thick on either side. Behind the rushes trees leaned precariously, their roots struggling to maintain purchase in the swampy ground.

Further upstream I ventured to where the creek narrowed still further. Here the water was shallow enough to see the murky bottom, a bottom littered with trees that had lost the battle with gravity. Weathered, bleached limbs broke the surface of the water - dead markers that suggested more death lay beyond.

From back in the thicker stands of trees ospreys screeched out warnings of intrusion, then took flight to circle and swoop overhead in an attempt to distract me from their nests. Stealthy creatures leapt into the water, leaving only ripples to show where they had been - and leaving me to imagine just what it was that might be approaching my small craft.

Then a bony fingered branch rising to just below the waters surface grabbed the bottom of my kayak, refusing me further entry into what was now little more than a dead and murky swamp. Something moved noisily through the rushes just an an oar's length away and I wondered if whatever it was meant to carry me to the silty bottom.

Pushing away from the submerged tree and turning back the way I had come, I refused to allow myself to paddle furiously. To do so would only invite further entanglement.  Instead I drifted with the current, using the paddle to steer between grayed stumps that seemed to have changed in position.

Gradually the creek widened and deepened. Gradually the sound of motor boats returned. Marinas and million dollar home came back into view. Yet I sensed that something watched me still from beyond the bend in the stream.