I figured this time was coming. After a few months of avid Steeming, my summer routine began and suddenly I can't seem to find my way to a computer. This is just one of the many small details of my life that make me feel incredibly lucky.
My wife and I are in a charmed period of our lives. Our children are 8 and 6, old enough that we can really enjoy activities as a family, like going for long bike rides, hikes in the woods, camping trips . . .
Last weekend took us to Atsion Lake in the Wharton State Forest of Southern New Jersey. This is essentially our back yard, as a quick 30-minute drive down some secondary highways takes us from our congested little suburban town to gorgeous wilderness. We joined some good friends along with their kids for some old fashioned car camping. There was a threat of violent thunderstorms all week, and we came close to canceling, but our great luck would have that we barely got a sprinkle, along with some brief periods of gray. And even more luck, the temperatures barely reached 80 degrees, and dipped into the 50s at night, making for rare perfect camping weather. Here in south Jersey it could easily already be in the 90s, and as I write this we are already creeping toward 100.
As much fun as the camping was with 7 other adults and 7 kids, this post is really about a little time I stole for myself. Earlier in the day I ferried some of the gang across Atsion Lake to the swimming beach in my 1931 Old Town. That evening I went to retrieve the canoe from the launch, but the stillness at that time of day was captivating, and I couldn't resist a quick solo paddle upstreem.
This is a truly beautiful, more or less wild, river (just one damn at the south end of the lake). It is a 50.6 (81.4km) river that originates in central Camden County near the town of Berlin, and winds through the vast Pine Barrens, eventually making it all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. During the upper sections it is often barely a canoe-length wide, and requires a fair amount of technical skill to navigate. Our campsite was on the upper end of the lake, so my little journey took me from the wide open and up into where it begins to narrow again.
The gray sky gave the scene a softness bordering on bleak, and with a total lack of wind left the water was glassy and black. The rivers in this region are all filled with "cedar water," a phenomenon caused by the tannins in the roots of the prolific cedar trees that leech into the water. Strangers to the area tend to assume the water is dirty, but it is actually quite clean, just with a color of brewed tea.
Lots of pond lilies and grass growing in the still areas. I was really enjoying the stillness and the rare bit of solitude, and the monochrome of it all was just all the more pleasant in my current mood. Appreciating the beauty of my home state is all about seeing the subtlety. The west has its grand canyons, big sky and rugged mountains, but the gently sloping eastern coast requires a bit more sensitivity and close up observation. It is green and lush, and when I slow down to take in some small corner of the wilderness I am almost always rewarded with a surprise. Last summer, while paddling with my son and daughter from the lake down through the heart of the forest, we came across miles of white lotus flowers. As if that wasn't enough, when we stopped for a snack break, we also found it was peak blueberry season, and the wild bushes in every direction provided all the snacks we needed.
No blueberries yet in June, but as I came around a bend just as the lake began to subside into the river feeding it, I spotted a sudden splash of color. Pulling up along a bog, I was presented with a wide swath of wild irises.
I believe these are of the variety I. versicolor, reference, USDA Forest Service. I recently learned that there are 28 varieties of irises that are native to the United States, and they are found in every state in the lower 48 and Alaska reference, USDA Forest Service. I was grooving on the contrast of the these stunning blooms over the varnished wood of my pride and joy :) . . .
but here is a shot sans the man-made machine.
And pulling back, I would like to re-orient the bloom with her mass of friends . . .
. . . and the bog . . .
. . . and finally, in its place on the peaceful river.
I hope you enjoyed this little journey, and maybe it helped encourage you to break away from everything and do some exploring in your own backyard.
All photos are my own shot with iPhone 7