Tag Archives: great blue heron

If the Boats a Rockin’

Posted by dkrashb on

It’s Saturday.  Marcy’s Playground comes to mind every time I say that.  With “It’s Saturday” running as the soundtrack in my head, I start gathering up the stuff I will take with me on our kayaking trip today.  We have signed up for an Outdoor Chattanooga outing kayaking at the Hiwassee Wildlife Refuge.  The Sandhill Crane is migrating through the area and it’s an opportunity to see (hopefully) thousands of them up close.

I, of course, want to shoot.  I’ve never tried to shoot from a kayak before–it will be interesting.  But, I have gone to great pains to make sure I can keep my camera dry when not shooting.  I purchased a Pelican waterproof box and carefully sculpted the foam in the box to hold my camera safely.  I’m not quite clear on where I will put this special box so that I can get the camera in and out without rolling the boat, but we’ll worry about that when we get there.

Pat is convinced that we will be going into the river today.  In spite of the fact that we will be in a sea kayak (much more stable than river kayaks) and that we will be in a tandem (even more stable), Pat is sure we are going to roll.  He bases this assuredness on past experience.  We were once on a tandem sea kayak in the Caribbean sitting perfectly still and I (at least, he thinks it was me) managed to flip up.  I contend that it was him, or the ocean, or the wind.  But I have to admit that my track record is at least pretty good circumstantial evidence against me.

However, it’s December and it’s not exactly a warm day with a high expected in the mid-40’s.  I’m pretty determined that we are not going in the river.  I find myself somewhat superstitious about this, however.  I take the approach of fully preparing for a dip in cold water as a measure of ensuring that it doesn’t happen.  It’s the theory of, “If you don’t want it to rain, carry an umbrella and put off washing your car.”

As I dress for our adventure, I choose carefully.  Under Armour tights, hiking pants, rain pants, Under Armour top, wool pullover, fleece, rain jacket.  Each under layer dries quickly and retains heat even when wet.  The waterproof top layer will protect me from splashes and help retain heat as well.  I hate being cold.  I also pick out a goofy hat.  The wind is pretty strong out there and it will only be worse on the water.  I want to be comfortable more than I want to look good.

Satisfied that my camera is well-protected and my clothes will keep me warm even if we fall in, we load up and head on out.  We have a bag with a change of dry clothes so we won’t have to ride home wet in the worst case.  We also have both of our day packs with a bladder of water each and big lunches, two pairs of binoculars, and my waterproof box.  For people who have been downsizing for years, we manage to look like pack mules every time we go somewhere.

We arrive at the park where we’re meeting for the tour.  One of the guides has a Newfoundland dog.  When we walk up, the dog leans against me, laying the weight of his head against my belly.  I rub his big old head and think for the millionth time how much I miss our dogs.

When everyone is ready to go, we load all of our crap and ourselves into the van and head on down the road.  By the time we get to the refuge, I think my body temperature is over 100 and I’m stripping off layers.  As soon as we get out of the van, I am quickly putting them back on.

Everyone gets settled in their boats, adjusting foot pedals and positioning their stuff.  One of the guides, Terry, helps Pat lash my waterproof box to the top of the kayak in front of me so I can easily get my camera in and out.  This is a good thing–I couldn’t figure out how I was going to get the thing in and out of the tiny space for my legs.

Before we get started, Pat has troubles with the rudder and while a guide is helping him sort it out, I spot a juvenile Bald Eagle soaring overhead.

We paddle our way across the main channel and then head along the shore of the refuge, trying not to get close enough to scare the birds.  A large white bird is standing on the shore ahead of us.  It turns out it’s a White Pelican, not a typical bird for the area.  We were hoping for Whooping Cranes, which migrate through Hiwassee every winter, but no such luck.  The pelican decides to take off as we approach, but manages to fly at an angle so that he has his back to us the entire time.  I’m frustrated by my shots.

As I shoot the White Pelican, I see a cluster of Sandhill Cranes standing on the shore behind the flight of the pelican.  There are only a dozen or so gathered there, but we can hear what must be hundreds of Sandhill Cranes gabbing away at one another.  They are an impossibly loud bird whose voice can carry a mile or more.

Across the channel we spot a group of smaller white birds floating on the water.  Someone says they are ring-billed gulls, but I don’t get a close enough look to decide if I agree.  I’m busy looking at the grassy bank above them.  Pat asks me if the bank is covered in Sandhill Cranes.  Unfortunately, the kayak won’t hold still and we bob up and down as I try to look through my binoculars.  For a moment I am convinced they are cows, then I realize I’ve misjudged the distance (and therefore the size).  They are Sandhill Cranes after all.  I blush at having thought they were cows.

We continue on our way, seeing many Great Blue Heron, Double-Crested Cormorants, Coots, possibly Lesser Scaups, and Bald Eagles.  I’m not as familiar with water birds, so I don’t even attempt to identify the gulls that fly by.

We make our way around the island, paddling ferociously against the current until we get around the tip of the island and start floating back with the current.  As we complete the trip, three more bald eagles appear and a group of cranes fly by.  It’s hard to believe we’ve been out on the water for nearly 3 hours.  Even more unbelievable, we never fell in!

When I click through my photos, I have to laugh out loud.  If I scroll through fast enough that the shots are movie-like, I feel like I’m back in the boat again.  The rocking of the boat is capture in the movement of my subject in the frame from one shot to the next.  I can’t tell on the small LCD if anything is in focus or not, but I hope my fast shutter made up for all the motion in the boat.

The Last Vacation Day

Posted by dkrashb on

One thing I have learned through experience that I try to do with every vacation, but especially one involving international travel: Always fly home 2 days before returning to work. Best case, it gives me a day to unpack, do laundry, get caught up on mail, nap at will, and settle back in. Worst case, if Pat gets detained in immigration (or a storm rolls in) and we miss a connection, it gives us an extra day to get home. We have needed that day for travel three times now, but when we don’t, I always appreciate having that day at my disposal. This is doubly true when my body has gone through a time change of more than 3 hours. I don’t do time changes well. Coming back from the West Coast actually messes me up worse than coming back from Europe, but I still need a few days to get back on schedule.

We managed to get into Atlanta last night without incident. The drive from Atlanta to Chattanooga was killer. When I booked our flight, I thought, “Oh, we’ll get into Atlanta at 7:30PM, that won’t be too bad for the drive home.” I failed to add 6 hours to that–our bodies were still on Germany time. To us, it felt like we arrived at 1:30AM. Then, it took another hour by the time we got our luggage and found our car in the “economy” lot (which turned out to cost almost double what the economy lot in Columbus costs). We hadn’t made it half way home before I was nodding off in the passenger seat and Pat was soon struggling to keep his eyes open behind the wheel. We had to stop and find a place to buy some water, stand up, get some fresh air. I don’t know which exit we took (I was probably asleep), but as we drove down the main drag, it seemed every building was boarded up. Some had signs that said “open during construction.” Others look abandoned. I remembered that tornados went through the area earlier in the year before we moved from Columbus and was astounded by the remaining devastation after so many months. We pulled into a gas station that had a trailer for a building. A large building was about halfway built behind the trailer. It’s a creative solution to staying in business. My mind shifted from the misery of being overly tired to the fortune of not having gone through a tornado. Unfortunately, this didn’t keep me awake for long once we were back on the road.

When we pulled into our parking lot, Pat told me that he’d been nodding off again for the last 10 miles. I said that he should have pulled off and found a place to take a nap. He had thought about it, but decided it would be weird to pull off the road so close to home. I replied, “Better weird than dead.” He agreed, but we were already home so it was a pointless conversation. We drug our tired selves upstairs, not even bothering to take all of our luggage with us, and fell into bed.

So, here we are, we’ve made it home without incident and now it’s Sunday morning. I managed to sleep through the night and wake up at 6AM after our long drive home the night before. I have no desire to do laundry or anything else that isn’t vacation-like. However, I don’t want to end up laying on the couch all day because it will slow down my adjustment to the time change. I talk Pat into walking across the bridge for breakfast in the Bluffview Art District. On the way back, we decide to walk down to the aquarium and find out about their River Gorge Explorer tour. They have a really nice boat that they use for tours of the river gorge. We confirm the schedule at the aquarium, but don’t buy any tickets. On the way back to the apartment, I talk Pat into going on the sunset tour tonight. I purchase tickets online when we get home just in case there is a big rush and the boat fills.

We do a little unpacking and a little laundry, but we spend a couple hours relaxing, dozing off and taking a short nap before it’s time to walk back over to the aquarium. We stop in member reception because the online ticketing didn’t have a way to get our membership discount. The guy is extremely nice and apologetic in crediting back the discount. The aquarium also credited us for 3 adult tickets we had purchased when we signed up for our membership. With the $10 we save on the cruise, we’re now exactly even on the cost of the membership–it’s a really amazing deal.

We walk around trying to figure out where we need to be for the boat ride. The boat is still out on the previous tour. When it returns, we watch it spin in the water and then slide sideways over to the dock. When we get on the boat, there is a video playing that explains how it was built and then transported to TN from WA. Two of the boat captains actually picked it up in Florida, tested it, and then brought it up the river to Chattanooga. It’s a very cool boat that goes very fast, but I lost interest in all the details about what it could do. We have to remain seated during the fast portion of the ride. We get up to speeds over 60 MPH, but the captain stops suddenly whenever he’s approaching other river traffic or docks, etc. The wake rises above the windows when we stop, but the guide explains that the fast stops and starts actually minimize the amount of wake, preventing rocking other boats.

The guide is actually a naturalist and, apparently, a history buff. He talks us through the history of the area going back to the Native Americans and the Civil War. He also talks about the wildlife in the area and points out anything that he sees as we go down the river. When we get to a wide open area, the boat cruises slowly and we all go stand up on the deck, watching for wildlife. We pass the convergence of Suck Creek with the Tennessee River and the naturalist explains that before the river was dammed, there was a huge whirlpool at the confluence that would suck down boats, etc. Apparently, it’s still there, just in deeper water. I wasn’t clear if it was still dangerous or not, however. In any case, he solved the mystery of why someone would name a creek “Suck.”

I have brought my big lens in the hope of seeing exciting wildlife, although I’m not exactly sure how well I will be able to shoot from a moving boat. We see many, many Blue Heron. I knew they had recovered well in Ohio after the banning of DDT, but the number along the Tennessee River is amazing. The most exciting bird (to me) we see is the Belted Kingfisher. Unfortunately, we’re too far away for a good shot. We also spot a huge gathering of Turkey Vultures circling above the river. I keep my eyes peeled for masses of dead fish floating on the water, but we never do spot what’s attracted them. While Vultures are always a little creepy, having had a large die-off of fish in our pond when we lived in the country many years ago, I have tremendous gratitude to vultures–I didn’t have to clean up a single dead fish.

When we return to the dock, we are all invited to go up on the deck to watch the captain spin the boat 360 degrees using a remote control. We stand on the boat while it spins. Then, the captain steers it sideways to the dock using the same remote. It’s a little crazy that a boat can maneuver like that. As we de-board and walk up the dock, we discover the lights on the pier have interesting patterns that shift as we move. We can see these lights from our apartment, but they just look like normal lights with interesting shapes from across the river. Up close, the light shoots up a post that has metal shaped in parabolas and a metal reflector at the top. The parabolas reflect the light so that it looks like the entire post is in motion as we walk. The reflector at the top doesn’t appear lit at all looking at it from below, but from across the river, it looks like it is the source of the light.

As we return home crossing the bridge, we discuss our day and decide that it was the perfect last day of vacation.

Turtles, Herons, and Toxic Waste

Posted by dkrashb on

Finally, Pat and I ride the entire Riverwalk.  I’d only made it halfway on previous rides and Pat had never made it past looking for the Riverwalk before.  Now, we take it all the way to the Chickamauga dam.

Not too far from the wetland beside the trail, a giant snapping turtle crosses the path.  We stop to take pictures, although I only have my iPhone with me for a camera.  Having heard many stories of snapping turtles removing fingers, we keep a safe distance.  The turtle tucks back into its shell when we get close.  We assume it’s female, heading for a secluded spot to lay eggs.  It’s tail is so long, it doesn’t even begin to go into the shell when the turtle tucks its head.

We find ourselves slightly confused by some of the signs–as stretch of the Riverwalk is gated with signs saying that it closes at dusk.  We make a mental note to make sure we return well before sunset so we don’t get blocked off the trail.

When we arrive at the dam, we stop for a while.  Huge signs warn of the dangerous waters around the dam that swirl threateningly–the signs imperatively state that life jackets are required near the dam.  Several small fishing boats are tucked around the corner from the most treacherous part, men standing defiantly with no life jackets, fishing for whatever is jumping there.  They compete with the largest grouping of Great Blue Herons I’ve ever seen–we count 17 standing just on the rocks below us, watching the water intensely and periodically snapping into action, snagging a fish.  Then, Pat spots a small sign on the shore with a warning about not consuming more than 1 catfish a month from the river due to the high content of cancer-causing pollutants in the fish.  I feel bad for the herons.  I am reminded that Chattanooga started cleaning up their waterfront 20 years ago, but undoing decades of industrial dumping doesn’t happen overnight.  I laugh to myself because I originally thought the name of the dam was “Chick-a-muck”–maybe that is a more appropriate name after all?

A man sits in a gazebo on the shore reading a book, but most of the people who have driven to this spot sit in their cars with the motors running, the windows up, and the AC on.  Interesting way to experience the outdoors, but with the temperature close to 100, I’m sure they are far more comfortable than we are, standing in the heat, sweating from our exertion.  We don’t stand there long–being in motion gives us more breeze and makes us feel cooler.

We head back down the Riverwalk towards home.  Approaching a curve behind a shrub, a woman comes walking towards us with her husband.  She talks to him intensely, not seeing us until she finds herself standing in our path, startled by our sudden appearance,  her mouth opens in a big round “O” and her entire body registers surprise.  I laugh out loud at the expression on her face.  She,laughs too and quickly moves out of our way.  We have found one pedestrian who thinks it’s better to stay right!

Passing a restaurant along the river futher down,  large groups of people walk out to the Riverwalk to watch the sunset from the vantage point of a pedestrian overlook across from the restaurant.  A family with 3 children stands on the path, watching cautiously for bikes.  When the youngest child sees us (she is about 9), she screams “BIKES!” spreading her arms wide in a protective gesture, and the family moves quickly to the side so we can pass.  While I am startled by the sudden scream and wonder at it given that we’re barely pedaling and even the snapping turtle would have ample time to get out of our way, I appreciate that there are people who are willing to share the walkway.

When we return to the start of the Walnut St bridge, we spot a street cart with shaved ice.  Sweating and stinky, it seems the perfect day to try it for the first time.  We each get a heap of shaved ice in a cup, covered with sticky sweet lemon syrup.  The ice refreshes us, melting quickly in our mouths, chilling me in the heat.  We sit on the bridge and enjoy our ice before heading home.  Pat makes a joke and I laugh, which makes Pat laugh harder, saying, “Wow, even your gums are yellow!”  So much for my whitening toothpaste!  I close my bright yellow mouth and we finish our ride, coasting slowly down the bridge, dodging groups of tourists and hoping my lemon-colored teeth don’t catch their attention.