I put my trusty sea kayak in near the West Thumb visitor's center. My patient wife waited in the trailer, parked not far from the boat ramp. She reads while I paddle, a satisfactory arrangement for both of us.The water was smooth and this was a good day to paddle. Skies were overcast, with a few patches of blue peeking through in the eastern skies. Temperatures were in the 60's on this Fall morning.
I headed south, following close to the shoreline to get a good look at the scorched and blackened remnants of the fire. Some trees looked relatively unscathed, but most areas were thoroughly burned, right down to the water's edge. It was a sad scene. Yet already signs of re-birth indicated that Mother Nature would fix things soon. soon. New growth was taking place, though most appeared to be deciduous or low brush, rather than evergreens.
Two fellows approached, paddling their heavily loaded canoe by me further out in the lake. I was bemused, wondering if they would make it to their destination if the winds came up and water sloshed over the gunnels, barely three inches above the water. That was a very loaded boat. They were headed across to primative areas to the south.
After a mile or two, I elected to turn around and head north toward the geysers bubbling along the shores, half a mile or so beyond the West Thumb complex. On passing our truck and trailer I waved to my wife waiting for me to do my thing.
It's a curious sight, amazing in fact. Crystal clear waters, cold and crisp, and suddenly stirred by thermal hot springs along the shore. Steam bubbles rise up from the lake bottom. The smell of sulphur startles this paddler. It's certainly different.
Tourists strolling toward the shore along wooden boardwalks seem bemused by my sea kayak approaching the bubbling waters. We wave and then I turn my attention to the strange things happening all around me. It's safe, I feel, for the steam vents are small and really don't disturb the waters. I imagine that this small region does not freeze over in the winter, at least close to shore. Such a unique place to be paddling. I am fascinated.
Finally, after perhaps three miles or more of paddling, I return to the boat ramp and pull my boat out of the water. In a few minutes my kayak is again secured atop my truck camper shell. We pull the trailer once more and head toward West Yellowstone and our campground for the night. It wasn't an extensive paddling excurion, but at least I can now say that I have paddled on Yellowstone Lake. It's a truly beautiful place and definitely unique.