Early Sunday morning, after the storm the night before; it's back to the beaver pond. I emptied the kayak, shooed away the spiders (most of them) and pushed my way through the submerged thicket, climbing over stumps, getting stuck several times until I found the right path.

It has become apparent that kayaking in a beaver pond is a contact sport.

Although the still water hides all the junk below the surface - roots and leaves, detritus and stumps, I can feel them scraping the bottom of the kayak as I go. I can literally feel and see land and pond slowly manifest and differentiate.

My only companions this time were the silent sentries still standing - hollow rotted trees patiently waiting to fall into the water and dissolve.

The dam is about 16 feet tall at the deepest spot. There must be a spring down there somewhere. What a rare and beautiful place.