Kayaking, Muck, Beasts, Slopes, and Mushrooms

Copyright 2024 by Lori-Ann Willey

Back from an adventurous outing, and wow, what a trek!  Due to moose and bear hunting season, I donned a hunter-orange sweatshirt, went for a short kayak ride, to another area for a walk through the woods.  The hydro company is doing their annual drawdown of the lake, and you can really see how much the water level has dropped in our photos with the water stump. But despite all that, I had a different mission in mind—hunting for edible fungi! It took me about 30 minutes to find a spot close enough to the shoreline to step out of my kayak without sinking too much into the mud. Mud and I? We’re not friends. I'd rather eat a pile of moose poops!  Well, maybe not, but close!  After paddling as close as I could and inching my way toward firmer ground, I finally found a place where I could safely step out. Though it meant a longer walk through the thickest of thickets, it was still way better than stepping into the deep yucky mucky stuff!  If at any time you hear me make squeamish noises, it's because I've stepped in mud!

After all that effort, I got lucky and found two matsutakes within a half an hour after dragging and tying my kayak upon land! Woo Hoo!  Given how dry it’s been, I felt like I’d won the lottery! From there, it was a bit more of a struggle—crawling on all fours up steep slopes, sliding back down, and navigating around rocks and fallen trees. It was tough going, but I kept my eyes open for anything edible. After literally searching high and low, I didn’t find much else.

At one point between steep slopes, I stopped to rest on a moss-covered log, taking in the beauty of the large moss-carpeted landscape before me—there’s just something so peaceful about it. I could hear logging in the not-so-distant, reminding me that this area will probably look completely different next spring. With a scowl, I thought, because I know this area so well, the way it is now will be a loss to me, so I soaked in that mossy area long and deep.  Thoughts of snapping a photo came to mind, but I wanted to remember other details for other reasons, like maybe a later painting option, or maybe for a future descriptive writing piece in a book -the setting for a scene, or an event.  

A few minutes later, and just as I started walking again, apparently, I startled a large animal by my movement—a bear or moose maybe? The movement itself sounded somewhat aggressive so I called out, “Hey Bear!” as I crouched to look under the thick tree limbs hoping to catch a view of legs at least, but I only spotted moving fir branches -no beast of any kind. My guess is it was a moose, possibly a yearling, skirting around the loggers that caught a whiff of my scent and/or unexpected movement. I'll never know for sure.  Thought it was strange that I never heard it leaving the area though. A moose doesn't care much about the noise it makes, whereas a bear does.  Whatever it was had heft.  As I crossed over another log, the mossy rock below showed a heart-shaped moose print that had cut away the moss itself and was as clean as a sharp cookie-cutter pressed into soft dough, so more than likely, the beast was a moose and not a bear.  I suppose, a bear would make for a better story, but.

A short distance later, I found myself at the base of another steep incline.  As per usual, I decided to climb to where I’d found matsutakes before...a lot of them.  The problem with that idea is that my bum knee was already aching, and was becoming increasingly stiff from swelling.  If I hadn’t been so determined, I’d say, “Not today.”  The other “problem” was that the matsutake are always just below the top rim!  In the past, if dealing with an injury, I’d walk the top edge from another direction with a much gentler slope vs repeated two steps up to a slide backward process which means a wicked slow uphill climb.  I approach life the same -I face yuckies head-on vs skirt around them.  Some people don't like that quality in me, but I've had to learn the hard way.

The lack of rain and the noise from logging made it tough to enjoy the peacefulness of the woods. The fallen leaves were crunching underfoot and dry, crunchy white lichen was more in line with November vs end of September.  I pushed on, though, grabbing onto saplings and rocks for balance as I climbed. At the top, not a single mushroom in sight. Feeling a bit discouraged, tired, fighting allergies, and running on just 3 hours of sleep, I knew it was time to head back. The way down that slope was just as challenging, sliding, back-stepping, leaning, and falling onto upright trees for support or break a fall.  At times, I walked the along the slope until I thought my sneaker would rip from the sole.  It never did, but the slope so steep that my foot slipped out of my downhill sneaker several times.  This, despite the lace being tied snuggly.  Gravity is gravity, grip is grip, and socks can be slippery within those sneakers after stepping into the mud.  Yuck!

Upon flattish ground once again, I dreaded that walk through the mud yet again.  Oh, the noise I'd make would've been comical if one was in earshot.  When I finally reached the edge of the woods, oh how I dreaded the walk through the sticky mud. It wasn't long before a set of fresh animal tracks in the mud distracted me.  As I got closer, I noticed those tracks had walked in my footprints from a couple hours earlier, and they lead right to my kayak.  Something had come by and checked "me" out! Based on the prints, which had no visible claw marks and were about 1 1/3 inches wide, people I've showed the photos to guessed it could have been an otter, fisher, lynx, or even a bobcat.  My first instinct was otter, but it doesn't matter what they are, they are fun.

Navigating back through the shallow, rock-filled cove in my kayak proved just as slow and frustrating as my arrival.  The sun reflected off the water from this angle, too, which  made it hard to see anything except for the bright sky above. I hit rock after rock below the surface, sometimes (too often) becoming stuck upon them, and had to wiggle and pry the kayak free. It reminded me of being a kid trying to use a snow sled upon a grassy lawn.  It just wouldn't move on its own.  Often, I’d paddle backward onto another rock or between two -stuck in another way, but eventually, I made it into deeper water where I must say, I chuckled as much at the experience as I felt in relief when I reached those deeper waters.  It wasn’t long before I repeated the same process as I approached our shoreline. Finally, I was able to swish my feet in the water and rinse off all that mud.  Bleck!

In the end, it was quite the mid-day excursion! A workout, a bit of wildlife mystery, and I came home with two beautiful matsutakes.  I'd do it all over again.