It's a rare thing to revisit a childhood memory and not find it somehow lacking once one has a middle-aged perspective. So, it's that much sweeter when such a visitation doesn't disappoint.

After a triple snootful of dog fur fibre experimenting today I really needed to clear the fuzz from my allergic head. I decided to do one better than yesterday's brief, grungy swim and head in the general direction of a Provincial Park I remember camping at as a kid.

Silent Lake is in Cardiff, by its mailing address, near Bancroft and according to Google Maps, less than an hour away from where I'm hanging out in Haliburton. One of my few memorable family vacation destinations outside of Algonquin, I remember the lake being deep, black and cold, and I remember abandoning the beach for my preferred launch pads of rocks above steep drop-offs. My favourite swimming lake is one where the view seems to go as far down into the cold black as it does up into the blue sky. The kind of lake where the monsters live, but they are shy and stay down deep, away from something like me lolloping around on the surface. Silent Lake fits this bill.

I started at the day use beach just off the entryway on the large westerly bay - and really, I shouldn't have, but it was still a lovely swim. There were no accessible rocky outcrops over deep water, so I quickly beat it out past the marked swimming line for a floating raft that must've been in at least 20 feet. The lake is forested all around so was already shady by 6 pm, but out far enough it was still lovely and sunny so I could alternate floating, paddling, and lounging on the raft for quite a while. I paddled in to explore outside the beach area among rocks, weeds, deadfalls, etc. and back out again. In total irony, after a few hundred metres of deepwater paddling and stumbling safely through all the treacherous wading, I did this to my foot:

by kicking the damned cinderblock anchor for the buoy line that marks the "safe" swimming area. GAH!

After cleaning my foot up and drying off, I decided to quickly tour the campground area, and only then realized what I should have done for swimming - it wouldn't make any difference that I went to the campground beaches with a day pass, no one would check as many campers are so remote they drive down to the beaches anyway. So I went out the back of Pincer Bay at the northeast extent of the lake, and this started to look a bit familiar. Tiny sheltered beach with just a bit of sand poured over granite bedrock for a comfy wading area, but all around here are rocks jutting out, and water that deepens quickly. Not wanting to find somewhere to change again, I just hiked around the extent of the bay, wading onto the slightly wet rock shelves to look over the drop, to and from the canoe rental and dock. Then I just sat for a while, wishing it weren't so close to sunset. I could have stayed for hours.

It was fun at both main beach and back bay to listen to and watch other people. Kids doing just what I used to do - a little sprout so proud of herself for swimming along with her dad all the way to the raft. A kid smaller than my nephew expertly handling his own mini-kayak along side the family canoe. There are some newer vehicles out there than there were back when I'd steal the old Coleman tugboat at night and float around on my back looking at stars. 6 ft kayaks and paddle boards were everywhere, I may need to try one someday! What a great way to wander in and out of every nook of that craggy shoreline. I saw several fishers out trying to see what they could catch with lure and worm at dusk - the younger ones all excited and grossed out at once, older ones keeping their distance and quiet. I don't think I feel the need to go fishing again, but sliding silently around a lake at dusk isn't unpleasant.

Alas - I have one more day of school and no camping gear, not to mention the bonked-up foot, so taking that little adventure any further will have to wait for another time. Still, it was a well-spent $14 of nostalgic zen to tuck into my busy week. Glad to know some of what I used to love in the world is still out there, enduring.