After spending a long time exploring stone structures that I had unexpectedly come across while wandering on beaches and short trails, I headed back to the bridge.
The weather was warmer than the freezing cold temperatures we had had both days of the weekend but was still cool and I stood on the bridge wishing that I had brought one more layer of clothing with me.
I needed to keep moving and headed down to the beach beside the bridge to take pictures of objects that were unfamiliar to me....................
They were intriguing, artistic, unique in their shape.
I stood looking at these very interesting objects that were completely foreign to me, briefly enjoying their form even though I had no idea of their function.
I had no idea at all what they were but was drawn to them and liked them anyway.
And then this morning it occurred to me that they might have the same function as the Christmas trees I saw in the water at the base not too long ago - to draw in the fish.
Maybe not but right now that is my guess...................
I wandered slowly along the edge of the driveway heading towards the point at the far end of the park and looked closely at the shallow lake on both sides of the road.
A very large blue heron was resting on a log in the middle of the lake and I snapped one quick picture of him as soon as I saw him, not knowing how long he would stay in one place.
I had hoped to take multiple pictures of him as I walked closer and had time to zoom my camera in but I never did get the chance to do that.
I had time to take this one picture before he took to the sky - flying in a large semi-circle before landing on the beach on the opposite side of the lake.
Disappointed I continued walking, curious to see what else I would run into in my quiet travels.................
Two elderly men fishing from the shore...................
Two more logs poking out above the lake, now visible because the water level was so low.
There were gnarly shaped logs everywhere in the lake that I had had no idea were there before this visit..........
I had been wandering slowly but consistently for a while, but when I saw these two logs I stopped for a moment, and zoomed in to take a closer picture of one of them.
As I stood on the beach looking at them briefly, and then considering them more deeply, they suddenly began to take on the silent and unmoving appearance of something prehistoric or space-creature like.
Oh jeeze Karin - grow up!
Self-recrimination for an overactive imagination.
Looking at these two logs one last time I silently shook my head, forgot about them and continued further down the beach...............
One of two fishing boats on the lake yesterday...................
I was used to walking the beaches in Juneau where the tide ebbed and flowed and where I could some days walk in sand that had been underwater perhaps just the day before.
But I wasn't used to doing that in Tennessee.
I walked in the sand - some of it solid and dry and some of it very soft and wet - and found myself looking back frequently and feeling slightly disoriented for the second time that day...............
As I slowly walked towards this log I looked down at it mesmerized by the weird Picasso-like face I could see in it.
OK..........my brain was definitely working in some type of weird overactive place.
When I was adventure racing there were many times when my exhausted and sleep-deprived brain wandered irrevocably towards hallucinations.
For a long while there was a trend to start races late at night.
I remember waking up at 8am the morning of one race thinking that I would be able to take a nap before the race started at midnight.
Between race check-in, paperwork to fill out, gear inspections (and it was a long winter race so there was a lot of multi-sport gear), race meetings, map plotting, race strategy sessions, pack packing, gear drop-offs, meals and visiting with other teams and getting dressed for the race and race excitement and nerves.............no nap.
So both my team-mate and I had already been up and about for 16 hours before the race even started.
We paddled for 18 1/2 hour and by the time we got off the river at 6:30pm the next night all I desperately wanted to do was sleep.
Only we couldn't sleep.
The ropes section was scheduled to close at 8:30pm and if we wanted to get the 200 foot ascent in and the 300 foot rappel in we had to do it right away, and we did.
Back at the transition area after the ropes we finally had a chance to sleep in the back of a uhaul trailer that was being used to transport gear from one transition area to the next for those teams who did not have a support crew (which included us).
Lead teams were far ahead of us by this time and the guy transporting the trailer had to leave within an hour so that he could be at the next transition area before the lead teams barrelled in looking for their stuff.
We slept for 45 minutes and quickly got geared up to head out for a trekking section in the mountains.............
I was doing fine until late morning during that (first) paddle section of the race when my brain finally went into overdrive.
On the water I began to hallucinate - animals standing along the shore, sitting in the trees, floating in the air.
Horses curled up in a ball sleeping on rocks in the middle of the river.
Rocks along the shore turned into piles and piles of skulls in neat rows.
And a giant dead Mr Peanut lying along the shore, complete with top hat, monocle, cane, peanut shaped body and skinny arms and legs..................
By the time we headed into the freezing cold mountains the Sleep Monsters were alive and throughout the night and throughout the next morning I saw things non-stop that weren't there.
I walked towards a giant rock face staring at it because I could see a face in it and was waiting for it to talk in some kind of weird deep Harry Potter movie voice.
I stared at a log in the middle of the trail as I approached it, certain that it would talk at any moment because it looked exactly like Daffy Duck.
Sticks turned into snakes. Small animals jumped out in front of me and darted across the trail.
More animals - animals everywhere - standing and floating and curled up sleeping.
People rustling leaves while running through the woods.
Big black SUV's and small shacks up ahead on the trail.
A giant shadow family sitting on a bench watching a show on a big screen.
The world was fuzzy around the edges like the picture used to be on very old TV's and the world looked watery.
I had no depth perception so had difficulty lifting my feet over objects, and learned what it was to eat and sleep and walk all at the same time - always waking with a start by taking an unexpected step sideways to alert my team-mate that I had actually been sleeping while we were moving.
By the time we got out of the mountains I collapsed in exhaustion and slept for 2 hours before heading out on bike.
It was snowing by then and freezing cold, and the two-woman team that had slept beside us for those two hours decided to pull out of the race.
These complete strangers threw a few extra supplies at us and sent us on our way.
And then adopted us.
These two wonderful women from NY state who were complete strangers to us became our support team and cared for us at transition areas throughout the rest of the race.
Extreme kindness of strangers...................
A starfish shaped log.
Somebody (not me) even found two small shells for the eyes..................
Foot prints in the sand.................
When I saw these multiple logs clustered together in one section of the lake I finally decided to just go with the flow and unapologetically embrace my sometimes overactive imagination.
One more day not long ago when my brain told me a story to describe what I was seeing:
The logs DID look prehistoric or as though they were some kind of weird creatures from outer space.
Those who shrink heads for a living could probably have a field day..............
A man walking in the sand with a metal detector, looking as though he found some kind of treasure.............
Imagination and Reason
Author Unknown
Imagination does not
Care for reason.
Reason does not
Care for imagination.
The poet in me cries
For imagination-wings.
The philosopher in me cries
For reason-sword.
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