Flying Underwater

One spring, as the north end of the Lake of the Woods began to thaw, I headed out into the open water in my canoe. The distance I could go was limited by the ice. Where there was the slightest current, that was where the ice melted first.

As I explored the sections of open water, I noticed a single duck swimming some distance away. When I paddled towards it, the duck moved away ahead of me. The channel slowly narrowed, until it was no more than six feet wide.

Since it was a duck that I was not familiar with, I kept paddling slowly towards it in the hope of identifying it.. As the distance narrowed, the duck suddenly found that it no longer had enough open water to take off in.
I expected it would hop up on the ice and take off from there.

To my surprise, the duck simply dived underwater and disappeared. Because of all the ice, the only open water was behind my canoe, so I looked down into the water to see if I could find the duck. Within a few seconds I saw the duck about ten feet below my canoe and it was moving swiftly through the water by using its wings as if it were flying.

I had seen many ducks and loons dive under water but they seemed to use their webbed feet to propel themselves. In this instance the duck was flying in the water, similarly to the way it flew in the air, with its wings fully outstretched. I watched as it flew below the canoe and then popped up behind me in the open water. From that point it quickly ran across the surface of the water and took to the air.

The ease with which the bird moved through the water was impressive, as it seemed to move effortlessly but with speed. The entire demonstration took place in a matter of seconds, but I was able to identify it as a male Common Goldeneye.
　
　

Bow River Valley - Canoeing - Part 1 of 3

When I lived in the mountains at Banff, Alberta, I vowed that some day I would make a trip from Lake Louise to Banff, a distance of about forty miles, by running the Bow River in a canoe. The river is fed with melt water flowing from the mountains and glaciers, all along the Bow River Valley.

The opportunity came in August of 1961 when I was 26 years old. It was a gray day, but I was committed, no matter how the weather turned out, as my window of opportunity only gave me three days. I planned to make the trip by myself and had camping gear in order to stay out overnight.

Early one morning, I put my canoe in the river near Lake Louise, and headed down stream. The view from the water was spectacular. High mountains sat on either side, with thick evergreen woods down their flanks. The trees were thick along each river bank, with nary a road, a trail, or the slightest sign of civilization. This entire area sits in the middle of Banff National Park and every effort is made to keep the area a pristine wilderness.

The river starts out rather wide, swift and shallow. The current is too fast to paddle against, so the run down river is exhilarating. The swift current limits the work with the paddle to steering, and in particular to avoiding rocks and dead trees.

After about fifteen miles the river narrows and becomes very winding. The valley flattens out, the river is deeper, and it is difficult to see what lies ahead, around each new bend. The entire course of the river is complete wilderness, as it has been for hundred of years.

During my journey, I only saw only one other individual. He was a trout fisherman standing in hip waders, in a long, swift, shallow rapids. He was facing down stream, so he did not see me coming, until my canoe suddenly raced by him. Just as he cast his line, I yelled a friendly “Good morning”, and left him standing with his mouth hanging open, and a shocked look on his face.

The river has the occasional small creek leading into it from valleys on either side. The water in them had ceased running, once the spring run-off was done. They allowed me to paddle away from the river and set up camp in an ideal quiet spot. The only road in the valley was the new Trans-Canada Highway. It ran parallel to the river, and higher up on the side of the mountains, some distance away.

Just before dark I set up camp, took a few photos, then ate, and climbed into the sleeping bag. I was looking forward to completing the second half of my trip the next day. I was soon lulled asleep by the sound of the rapids nearby.              Continued in Part 2.