Creek water for the soul
I normally prefer to kayak on gray, overcast days. The glare of sunlight reflecting off the water can give me headaches from squinting, even with sunglasses. In the summer I typically wait until late in the day to go out, as conditions cool and the sun sinks to the horizon.
Rain doesn't bother me much; I carry excellent rain gear on paddle trips, and wet weather imposes a stillness and silence on my surroundings that I find to be extremely soothing. Sometimes I just set my paddle down and float idly as the rain comes down, unwilling to disturb the rain-calmed water or interrupt the silence.
Wednesday afternoon was my first time out in a few weeks. The skies had threatened rain for most of the day, so I strapped the boat to the top of my truck and headed up to the creek, hoping to relax and enjoy a bit of light rain along the way. There are few better feelings to me than paddling on calm, still water on a fall afternoon. Whatever stressors are affecting me at the moment feel as though they're channeled down my arms to the paddle, grounded and dissipated in the water.
Rainfall was sporadic and light. At least it was light until I cinched down the last strap when I loaded up to go back home. The skies opened up right as it got dark. I like rain, but I wasn't in the mood for a downpour at dusk. Anyhow, not pictured are a few small pockets of light fog that formed at tight bends in the creek, where cool air settled and the light breeze couldn't reach. A beautiful, quiet afternoon out. All told I covered about five miles, paddling around aimlessly with no set mileage goal, just killing time.