Finally, a Sunrise to Ourselves

Turns out that’s what Banjo and I were missing the most here in this full campground without an easy place to walk. Don’t get me wrong: there are beautiful trails around the lake and all over Cedar Falls, but everyone else thinks they’re great, too.

Dawn Walk

This morning I got us out of the trailer before sunrise, and we had the world to ourselves.

The sun was rising over the campground, but that meant it was reflecting in a lovely way over Big Woods Lake, which is even bigger than usual right now.

The flooding is high enough that we couldn’t go around the lake entirely, but we did go far enough to stretch our six legs, and then we lingered at the water’s edge. Banjo caught a vole in her mouth (and dropped it unharmed), and I watched an old man walking his dog alone and realized I was just like him.

I also caught a glimpse of a paddle boarder out on the lake, blending in with the mist. For a second I felt like I was witnessing a scene across the world in Vietnam: a fisherman pushing his wooden boat down the river with a long pole. I was too mesmerized to get a photo.

I did snap this one.

Banjo was the one mesmerized this time, waiting for the deer to move before she would. We were playing chicken in standing water.

As the deer walked off finally, Banjo decided hunting voles was a more realistic goal and wandered us both back to the edge of the lake—for a final look around before people and dogs began to emerge from their RVs and take back the campground.

Yesterday’s Bike Ride

Yesterday morning we left Banj in the trailer and rode bikes for several hours, checking out what was flooded and what was passable.

We rode through downtown, near the university, over railroad tracks, through tunnels … basically anywhere we could. We slipped in mud a little and rode through flooded spots only when we could see dry land down the path.

Look how I tricked Tracy into showing off his legs.

Some overrun areas had enough current that we had to grip the bikes to keep them from being pushed away.

Even in shallow spots, we spotted fish swimming across the path and kayakers floating quietly through the woods.

Distancing with Friends

Another of Tracy’s old friends dropped by the trailer last night, and we sat and talked under the awning as the night sky sprinkled a light rain and fireflies flew between us.

We had a hard time steering the conversation away from the virus. It had been the end of a really long work day for Tracy’s friend, and we were feeling frustration that the edginess we’d felt in D.C. and were reading about in the news is here, as well.

In the sunlight today, I’m feeling confident we’ll get together again before we head off, share some beers maybe, and laugh about lighter things. Sunlight does the body and the soul good.