A nostalgic version of a fisherman sitting by the lake

For anyone who has gone boating on a lake, one of the more popular boating activities is referred to as “coving.”  While coving sounds like something romantic two doves might do, coving can be among the most dangerous of activities that boaters undertake.  It largely consists of bobbing around in the water with adult beverages and hoping that no one runs over you with their outboard motor when they decide to leave after bobbing around drinking large quantities of said adult beverages.

I knew of one person who lost a leg when one of those inebriated boat drivers failed to avoid running him over in spite of dozens of people screaming at him to stop.  I was not there, but the story has soured the concept of coving for me.

A collection of clouds formed over the mountains in the distance in an otherwise clear blue sky

On the flip side, coves are also coveted by water skiers, especially early in the day for their calm water that can look like glass when there’s no traffic on the lake.  Where there are water skiers and power boats, coves can be both exciting and dangerous.

Where there are no power boat, coves become a quiet area coveted for fishing.  Cove Lake State Park appears to have no power boats, only row boats (although I didn’t see any boats on the water on my way home last week).

What is perhaps the most odd circumstance of Cove Lake is that in spite of the quiet, secluded solitude its name implies, it’s cradled in the nook of two major highways, one of which is I-75.  When I got off the highway to check it out, I saw a lake from the freeway, but I assumed that was not Cove Lake.  I was wrong.  You can watch cars zooming by on an overpass from some parts of the park.

The row boats was patiently for someone to take them for a spin

Curiously, the proximity to the freeway doesn’t make the park any less peaceful.  If there was noise from the freeway, I didn’t hear it.  From the number of fisherman gathering in the parking lots, preparing for their evening fishing, I’d guess it has a healthy fish population.

Tisen and I didn’t stay long enough to see anyone catch a fish, but it seemed like the guys in the parking lot had the kind of equipment only serious fisherman own and made a regular habit out of fishing at this little lake.

As we made our way back to the car, a Canada Goose couple started honking their alarm to their young, who immediately started hustling toward the safety of water.  I have read that geese who have never seen a canine will still respond with alarm to a canine-shaped animal, suggesting innate fears can be passed from one generation to the next.  I don’t know if these geese had seen a dog before, but Tisen barely had time to decide whether he was interested in the geese or not and turn his gaze their way before they were all in the water.  I’ve never seen goslings move faster!

One final shot of the lake as it continues its course around the bend and out of sight