It is sure hard to get a new build started when you are too busy paddling

If you want to skip the text and go to the slide show the links are below you will need to suffer through some pictures of rocks before you see much paddling

I wasn't sure if I should title this one
Infant Rocks, Old Rocks, Mother-In-Law Rocks, and Fat Grebes
Or
Last Night Was the Night
We started Saturday morning with blue skies and 25 degree temperature which doesn’t matter much in water that is 3 times saltier than the Pacific. My windward cheek was soon cold and crusted with salt from the drips that blew from my paddle while my fingers dripped with sweat inside pogies. Within 20 minutes we were passing the Tintic Quartzite of Lady Finger, at 550 million years old it hardly merits teenage status. Stuck on the quartzite and currently growing on the lake bed below us was natural cement called Tufa rock, some of it dates back to the Lake Bonneville time period of 10-15 thousand years ago, some of it dates back to just a few months. In another 10 miles we were looking at rock that is 2.7 billion years old, older than the rock in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. This 28,000 acre island that sits in a 17,000 square mile lake is odd in many ways. As far as we knew we were the only two boats on the water (maybe we are a little odd also) except for some duck hunters who were surely in the marshes on the east side cursing the beautiful weather. The day warmed as we wandered. The beaches were littered with bones and tracks of birds, deer, bighorn sheep, bison, and coyotes that live on the island. Plastic of every kind sat on the round oolitic sand that is actually made from growing rock not eroding rock. I found the lid to a toilet about 100 yards from where I found a toilet seat several years ago. This was the closest thing to an amenity that I have ever seen in this harsh environment. The casks from the millions of brine fly larvae that live in the lake pile up on the shore as soft to walk on as the decaying organic matter of the Pacific Northwest. Most of the island is closed to hiking and I am still not sure how my camera got up on those cliffs for the pictures. The late generation sunflower bloom was interesting, I guess sunflowers can get as confused as kayakers. Speaking of rocks my favorite rock is named Mother-In-Law Rock, there are several pictures of her, and I am even in her gapping jaws in one picture see if you can pick her out. I am not sure how I came up with that name but the lake is a great place for inspiration. After paddling and playing more than we should have we realized we only had about 2.5 hours of sun. The 7 mile gap between Antelope Island and Freemont Island looked small in the distance. We had to make that gap plus a few miles to get back to the marina so we started paddling in a more serious way. The water was almost lifeless except for the brine shrimp eggs that float in groups of thousands if not millions on the surface, we saw a few Eared Grebe, the last birds to leave of the over 7.5 million birds that stop over on the lake during their migration. The trip had been great but in the race with the sun we experienced one of those things that make time stop. We paddled through 5 miles of Eared Grebe that created an opening about 100 yards wide all around us. There forms looked almost ghost like with the light reflecting on the water. The light was poor for pictures which allowed me to just enjoy the moment or hour. There were perhaps 400,000 of them, for sure a bunch of them. I must admit it was nice not having David Attenborough narrating the whole thing. The grebes stay on the lake eating thousands of brine shrimp and brine fly larvae until they double their weight. They become fat and flightless, something they do 6 or more times each year. Although they spend 9 months or more in a flightless condition each year when they fly it is impressive. Their digestive organs shrink 75%, other organs including their brain also shrink as their heart enlarges and they flap around on the lake developing their pectoral muscles. Then in the dark of the night around Thanksgiving time they all take flight starting their non-stop winter migration of up to 3,700 miles. When they arrive their body weight has dropped to 50% or normal. That night was probably the night. On the distant shore we could see bison in the last warm rays of sun. As we ran out of light and low on energy I couldn’t help but reflect on the grebes. Oft times our baggage of needs does limit our experience. Just think 3,700 miles with only the feathers on your back. Some cold night I am going to paddle out there just to experience the beginning of a journey that is beyond our human understanding.

Great Salt Lake West Side of Antelope Island
ProShow Producer Slideshow by scottbaxter
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Still Images
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