Purple Loosestrife, Lythrum Salicaria

Day 323: "We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you Purple Loosestrife." Yes, I know I promised my readers more photos from the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge, but my leisurely kayak outing on Mineral Lake turned into an invasive plant survey before I'd gotten halfway to the far end. I found two well-established clumps of it along a 50-foot stretch of shoreline and at least one single stem in between the two. I was not equipped to remove it, so took photos and turned in a report to the Invasive Plant Council as part of my volunteer duties.

This "weed" is not yet a serious problem in western Washington, but as a Class B invasive, it is on the hit list for eradication. Class B invasives are those which may be abundant in one part of the state, but may be rare or absent in another. The goal is to control them before they have a chance to spread. Class B invasives include such things as Spotted Knapweed, Policeman's Helmet, Poison Hemlock and Japanese Knotweed, although extermination of the latter would appear to be a hopeless cause. It is important to know how to control a particular invasive. Some can be dug out, but in other cases, digging is contraindicated (Knotweed is a case in point). If you have an invasive on your property, be sure to find out the proper control method for the species.

Unexpected High Seas

Day 19: Half an hour later, I was down there in the far end and as I swung 'round to follow the eastern shore (right side of the photo), a series of low swells came surging across the surface, threatening to take the kayak broadside. I angled into them and rode them out, but they were just the appetizer. The wind came up, pulling the water into meringue peaks and dashing them into the cockpit. "Where the hell did that come from?" I grumbled aloud. "So much for doing two laps!"

The camera was on the floor of the boat, but I didn't dare stop paddling long enough to put it in the dry-sack. If the wind had turned the boat sideways, I could have been in trouble. The western shore was somewhat calmer under the wind-shadow created by the surrounding hills, so I put my back into it and tacked for open water, away from the hazards of barely submerged stumps. Once across, it was easier going, though I was still fighting wind if not whitecaps. A quarter mile from the boat ramp, the wind subsided into a gentle breeze. What's a sailor to do? I made for the far side and finished off the day with a leisurely navigation of the south end, one "lap" made with respect to distance travelled, although I missed out a piece of the eastern shore entirely.

Putting Into Port

Day 315: Weather has kept me from kayaking over the last few days, and I've been anxious to get out on the water. Today's adventure was close to home: Mineral Lake. With the unexpected assistance of our Park geologist Paul Kennard, I put in at the public boat launch (barely visible in the far distance) and power-paddled my way to the north end of the lake, fighting wind all the way. Oddly, I found myself battling the wind on the return as well, and bucking choppy waves in the bargain. Having made one circuit, I was considering calling it a day, but as I got near the boat ramp, I swung the 'yak around and went wide to keep from interfering with someone taking in a power boat. At that point, I said to myself, "What the heck, I might as well do another lap."

The chop had subsided a bit, but as soon as I came to the gap in the foothills where down-valley winds sweep off the shoulders of Mount Rainier, I was again pulling hard. Good exercise, this! Then from behind me, a series of unusual, broad swells lifted the boat and propelled it forward. I do not know what generated them, but my thought was that there might have been a small earthquake. They were fun to ride.

One thing about being out and about in a boat, sometimes you need to put into port for one reason or another. The north end of Mineral Lake is undeveloped, and for the most part, there is no easy bank access. I managed to find a pleasant harbour by weaving my way through deadheads, one of the significant advantages a 'yak has over other craft. Apparently I was not the only one to have discovered this haven because set in the woods fifty feet or so was a large fire-ring of stones, well-used, and the tree canopy above them very close and low. It's the second "secret camping spot" I've discovered while paddling (the other was on the back side of Bogucki Island). Rounding the end of the lake a second time, I checked on a boatful of fishermen I'd spoken with earlier. They still hadn't had any luck, and reported to me that their largest catch of the day was a whopping four inches long.

Still fighting wind and chop, I found myself losing the "paddler's box," the energy-efficient posture a good kayaker strives to maintain. Three hours and three miles were enough for this day, given the challenge of rougher water. I am loving my new sport!