My Excellent Kayak Adventure

Yesterday afternoon I took the kayak out and headed north along the edge of the lake. I had my fishing rod with me, as I searched for a new fishing hole. The lake seemed ideally suited for such an adventure, not completely calm with just enough current to make it fun. I must here confess that fishing from a kayak is probably easier than I make it look. Fifteen minutes in, I sent a cast too close to the edge, launching one of my prize lures into a low hanging branch. Unfortunately, it could not be saved. The fishing part of my adventure came to an abrupt end since I had only brought a few extra lures with me, no swivels. At this point I decided to continue my trip and enjoy the scenery.

Quantabacook is a small lake by Maine standards. It takes up 665 acres of real estate. Loon Landing sits at the southern end and our view of the entire lake is limited by the shape. If a kayak were deployed on a voyage around the perimeter of Quantabacook, it would require an 8.4 mile cruise. My voyage was considerably less...

However, the 4.4 miles I did manage revealed some incredible beauty. Of course, everything looks better when framed by crystal clear blue skies. I believe that what makes Quantabacook special is it’s anonymity. This is the lake that nobody has ever heard of. It’s one of the few up here that cannot be seen from any State road. It sits back in the woods, isolated and ignored. I don’t know how many cottages, camps and homes are here, but when you kayak along the edges it doesn’t seem like many. There are long stretches when all you see are looming pines, spruce, and birch trees and rocks jutting from under the water line. There was one section where it seemed that I was completely alone on an abandoned lake, with only the sound of birds in the trees and a couple of loons for company...

I took this photograph from the marshes to the north, around two miles from Loon Landing. An otter lives there, I’m told...but I didn’t see him. 

I made the wise decision not to take on the top quadrant of the comma. Instead, I cut across open water to the western shore and immediately found something that had so far eluded me. Every time we come here, we see a magestic eagle soaring above us. He comes and goes in his impressive way, making sure we know that Quantabacook belongs to him. Up until yesterday I had never found his nest, but suddenly, there it was near the top of a giant pine tree...

The last leg of my journey found me getting uncomfortable. The giant catcher’s mitt shaped clouds had thinned, leaving me in the bright sunshine. At the one hour mark, my backside was feeling it—this kayak has a paper thin seat—and I was getting hot. Just about this time of maximum discomfort, Quantabacook threw me a bone...I turned a corner and found this lovely spot in the shade where the current had died down. I sat there for probably five minutes just looking and listening...

Looking back on these photographs it occurs to me that they really aren’t all that impressive. Unless you’ve been to a place like this yourself, seen it, smelled it, and heard it for yourself, it might not resonate. Quantabacook cannot be experienced in third person. It’s a here and now place.