My final time on the water in Vermont wasn’t a photographic expedition; I only took the P&S. It was a trip out to the Chittenden Reservoir, our perennial paddling spot, with the family. Four kayaks on two Jeeps, down the dirt road to the Lefferts Pond access and put-in at the small gravel beach on the eastern shore of the reservoir.
I spent countless hours paddling here as a teenager, after I had my license. Alone, with friends, with family, at all hours in all conditions. It’s a big, clean body of water with plenty of coves and creeks to explore, and even on hot summer days like this one, when it’s filled with people, there’s enough room to keep it from feeling crowded.
We paddled a loop north from the put-in, exploring a few small coves and finally ending up near a restricted zone around a low, small island where loons were nesting. The loons, a mated pair, were in the water hunting, and often came to the surface near our little flotilla.
No photos of them from this trip – just some snapshots as memories.
I stuck the TG-3 underwater a few times and randomly made some images. Nothing amazing, although I do like the way the light plays through the water. (Of course I then had issues with condensation forming inside the lens shield from the temperature differences between the cold water and the hot day.)
I’ll leave you with a last view of the mountains. Oh, the mountains! The one thing about Vermont that I miss. Living there, you are intimately familiar with the mountains that line your horizon. You know them as old friends, their shapes and angles, and anywhere you are, you can look up and orient yourself by their position.
You lose that in places without mountains. If you’re a denizen of a mountain-less place, you’re a member of the club known simply to native Vermonters as “flatlanders.”