The moment I opened the kitchen window a few Saturdays ago, I was greeted by a gorgeous early summer morning. The sun poured into the house, filling every corner it could reach with light, and a tiny breeze - the kind that starts out deceptively cool and warms with the day - rustled the leaves of the old silver maple in the backyard. I smiled - an idea was brewing.
After a busy work week, I was more than ready for some rest, relaxation and fun. So, after we had dutifully completed our weekend housecleaning, my husband and I set off on our own little adventure.
Taking US 30 west from our small village of Dalton, we quickly rolled down the windows of our trusty pickup and turned up some of our favorite music on the CD player. The wind mussed our hair and the sun shone hot on our arms and shoulders. Indeed, the lengthy winter and cool spring we had endured had made us determined to enjoy every moment of the summer heat.
We passed fields, farms and landmarks, all familiar to us until we got on State Route 3, the road that would take us to our final destination - the Mohican River in Ashland County. As we drove toward Loudonville, a small community on the river, we marveled at the natural beauty surrounding us. The historian in me couldn't take her eyes off the old brick farmhouses framed by stately trees and mountainous lilacs. My husband, the outdoorsman, gazed longingly at the numerous patches of deep cool woods separating the fields. At the crest of every hill, the eye was treated to a patchwork quilt of color, stripes of gold, green and brown stretching to the horizon.
Gradually, houses edged closer and closer together, the speed limit slowed and Loudonville came into view. Route 3 jogs through the town, passing picturesque churches and homes, a library and many inviting gift shops. I made a mental note to return to Loudonville on another day - perhaps with a credit card and shopping partner.
Just outside town are several canoe liveries; we were headed to one of these. However, the list of recreational opportunities in this area could go on and on - kayaking, rafting, water sliding, miniature golfing, horseback riding, hiking, picnicing, camping - and more.
We parked right along the road at the Mohican Canoe Livery and Fun Center, a veritable circus of attractions, from canoeing, kayaking and rafting, to go-karts, to 'adventure golf.' An entire family could be entertained all day long here, but today our objective was simple: we wanted to enjoy the river.
As we entered the small building where we would purchase our tickets, we were met by a lively crowd of young people who had obviously caught the summer fever that day, as we had. Several young couples stood in a group, clad in t-shirts, shorts and sports sandals. Families with young children also waited in line, the youngsters struggling (sometimes failing) to contain their excitement.
Most canoe liveries offer several choices in the length of trips available. We chose the shortest trip - seven miles, reported to take about two hours. For those with more time and ambition, trips ranging from four and a half hours to two days are available. Sometime I would like to try one of the overnight trips with a group of friends, as the river is lined with campgrounds and many attractive cabins. But today was more about leisure than sport.
From the main building, we walked down to the riverbank and selected brightly colored life jackets and paddles from the boathouse. Rows upon rows of canoes, rafts and kayaks lined the small landing where we set our canoe afloat.
The gaggle of high-schoolers went in just before we did, and although we smiled and admired their liveliness (threats of tipping and dunking were already being made), we paddled ahead of them in order to avoid any unwanted dampness - being early in the season, the water was still frigid!
Soon the only canoe on the river, we relished the quiet, rhythmic swoosh of our paddles gliding through the water. We talked softly, commenting on the 'noisy silence' of nature - birds singing, sometimes visible in trees bordering the river, the lapping of the water against the banks, the eerily beautiful creaking of branches rubbing together in the breeze.
With only a little imagination, we could picture ourselves as Mohican Indians, sweeping noiselessly down the river in search of...dinner? the nearest trading post? or perhaps just a good time? In any case, the canoe certainly proved itself as an efficient and economical mode of travel. With a little experimentation, we were able to keep our vessel going at a good speed while exerting very little strength on our part. In my opinion, the canoe could even be considered the aquatic equivalent of a bicycle.
As we continued down the river (getting better and better at the steering aspect of canoeing), we concentrated on making our paddle strokes as silent as possible in order to attract little attention. Soon our efforts paid off, as we spotted a Great Blue Heron standing tall and motionless in a marshy area close to the shore. As we came closer, the magnificent bird simply looked at us as if to say, Yes, this is my river, but you may pass.
And pass we did, although this was not the last time we would see the heron. In fact, it seemed to be blithely shadowing us as it travelled downriver, pausing at intervals to perch in trees, stride grandly around on its stick-legs, and fish (an activity which delighted us as spectators). Each time we passed it, the creature would wait until we were about ten yards away and lift itself, with a mighty rush, into the air, sailing directly over our canoe with a powerful 'foomp...foomp' of wings.
With our new companion never far away, we passed underneath two bridges, framed on either side by stately hemlocks. According to our map, these landmarks signaled the near end of our seven-mile trip, and soon we reached the sign directing us to land. A very helpful park employee helped us drag the canoe up onto the damp sand and directed us to the cheery yellow school bus waiting to take us back to our vehicle.
Drowsy and grinning, we boarded the bus, taking a seat in the back. Eventually, the river's other occupants followed us, and the bus began to creak and bounce cheerfully back to the parking lot. On the drive home, we both agreed to plan another trip to the Mohican and its peaceful, largely undisturbed forest. For now, we returned home relaxed, refreshed and happy.
Thanks for coming with us. (June 2001 issue)