Mellow

I took 357 pictures during our kayak trip. We stayed at Volga River Recreation Area and paddled the Turkey and Yellow rivers. The Volga was too low for passage. The weather was warm and dry, crisp at night from the frosts we had last week, warm and breezy by day. I decided that having a cool camera with a zoom lens isn't any good for me if I leave it at home, so I took it along with my in my boat. There are those who assert that I am far too accident prone for such risks. I turn my back on them. We came upon bald eagles on both our paddles. This one is part of a nesting pair we saw on the Turkey. Their next was a huge platform of sticks perched impossibly high up a dead cottonwood. I try to get the kayak going in the desired direction, then stow my paddle and pull out the camera, letting the boat drift closer as I hold still. One bird seemed to notice the rapid clicking of the shutter (or whatever it is on a digital camera), but they let me come quite close. We three busy middle aged men took some time out to paddle in the last of the warm autumn air. Northeast Iowa is a little secret I'd like to keep from the outside world.
















Mr. Schaal chose to fish during his paddle, with some gratifying results, including a stickle-backed carp sucker. I did not see this alleged fish, but Carroll was emphatic.



























Mr. Rainbow trout was no brooder, but would have presented nicely with crab stuffing.





















"Dad takes pictures of flowers," my son sighs. I had to include these photos for him. There are small pieces of beauty in these extravagant late-fall landscapes. Turn the great big lens at the bank and single out a plant.











You don't have to be flashy to be beautiful. Life at stream side is the envy of any terrarium.


The Yellow River was very shallow and had numerous riffles and rapids. One of us dunked, and I won't say who (hint: my camera is dry).











We broke it up Sunday afternoon after a magnificent run on the Yellow River. We ate braunshweiger sandwiches with an old biker dude that Geof picked up. We helped him get his bike on his trailer and next thing you know Geof is consulting with him, invited him to lunch and a beer. I know it must have been an attempt to give back some of the mountainous karma with which we have been blessed. Three relaxed middle aged guys finished their sandwiches, packed our cars, and drove back to our lives.

Not quite all the way back . . . .