Paddling Long Arm in Reelfoot National Wildlife Refuge

As we've reported before, the top one-third of Reelfoot Lake is protected by the Reelfoot National Wildlife Refuge.  It is shallower and more heavily populated by waterbound cedar forests, pond lilies, duckweed and the like.  On Sunday, May 15, 2022, we tried the third of four launch points within the Refuge.  This launch site gave us an entry to a section of the lake called Long Arm -- a small basin north of the others we have paddled.

We had the parking area to ourselves and took advantage of the empty launch area to paddle slowly toward a dense cedar forest growing out of the swampy water:

The still water reflected the blue sky and dark green canopy, the shadows in the upper reaches of the trees making the water look inky black as our kayaks glided through it:

The route from our entry point to Long Arm led through the cedars and into a narrow channel through lilies and grasses:

Duckweed was abundant in the channels, requiring a shallow paddle stroke.  We moved leisurely across the water.  Kathy decided to try her hand fishing for bass, crappies or other fish endemic to Reelfoot Lake, while David hunted for photograph subjects.  As we paddled down the channel, Kathy cast to where she guessed the big ones were feeding:

Reelfoot National Wildlife Refuge has taken remarkable pains to post informational signs at regular intervals on its three paddling trails.  We were not disappointed to see one as we approached a turn south toward Long Arm.  It was very helpful; it informed us that what we know as pond lilies are also known as spatterdock.

As if to illustrate the sign's explanation that spatterdock boasts round yellow flowers, the plants directly in front of the sign bore one of the season's earliest mustard-colored blooms:

Turning south toward the top of Long Arm, we enjoyed spatterdock on both sides of us and duckweed under us -- a profusion of emerald under an aquamarine sky:

All these other greens inspired the duckweed to monopolize our attention with its swirling, fractal patterns in the water:

Meanwhile, above the surface, we found a birdbox marking our paddling trail and standing guard over the junction where we would return after following a loop into and back up Long Arm:

How can we even describe how much we love the beauty of this environment?

We worked our way east and south through a narrow channel and finally found our way into the main body of Long Arm. This is the view we had as we entered Long Arm. 

At this point, Kathy decided to try to fish the open water, while David paddled south to explore the length and southern end of Long Arm.  Here, Kathy readies her next fly to tempt those elusive fish:

Dragonflies are some of the most curious and interesting insects on lakes.  Many will land on our kayaks, thinking they are plants or other friendly landing zones.  We don't know whether they have any curiosity about us personally, but they often stop by and pause a while -- long enough for us to take their portrait if we're quick enough:

In his exploration, David spotted two beaver lodges!  The Visitor Center exhibits did reveal that beaver inhabit the Refuge, but we did not take that information literally.  We have visited many public lands where beaver allegedly homesteaded, only to find that there were no beaver at all in the places that would be their natural habitat.  So, when we read that beaver were present, we took the information with a grain of salt.  Yeah, sure.  But to our happy surprise, beaver seem to thrive in this shallow water.  No need for beaver dams because the pond is provided already by mother nature and the lake is too big for a little beaver to dam.  But it seems like a nice place to raise a family, nevertheless.

We are sad to tell you that Kathy caught no fish, and David found no treasure at the end of his paddling rainbow -- but we both received something more important than either of us consciously thought we were seeking:  a discovery of the wonders of a beautiful, wild solitude.  For example, there is a special peaceful or spiritual feeling to glide through still water, especially where it feels like we're in the wilderness, miles from the hubbub of civilization. 

 Here is a hint of what made us feel this way:

This was our last paddle at Reelfoot Lake.  Now we move east and north, through Kentucky, toward a Memorial Day weekend with family.  We hope to have another outing or two before then, but this might be our last paddle for a while.

Until the next outing, stay adventurous, my friend.