Cave Run Lake is, in a word, huge.
A giant watery snake, its 8000 acres wind for miles, past rugged shorelines, above them, nothing but the densely treed hills of Daniel Boone National Forest.
This wild and wandering place, wonderful to lose yourself within—
but it could really happen here.
just as the last.
Each stand of willows, each sycamore, each sweetgum,
planted on a ruddy rock bank—
shows no mark to guide the way, for one paddling slowly along.
So, looking backward over my shoulder, as we broke from the edge and traced a course toward the opposite shoreline, I scanned for an object to remember upon our return—
a mark that would be an easy target, a blaze from across the water to guide us back to our camp.
And thought this large, floating refrigerator,
unsightly as it might be,
perfect for the job.
How could anyone miss that??
We paddled on,
and discovered another, and another…and another.
Each refrigerator, each water heater, each soccer ball—
having found its way to this great lake
from someone’s private dumping ground,
now floated at the edge,
bobbing in the wake of passing boats,
arranged beside rubber tire planters.
Because, once dumped,
it never really goes away—
it just goes somewhere else.
In our day on the water, we passed 7 floating refrigerators, 10 floating water heaters and 12 soccer balls.
Tires too numerous to mention bob within piles of bottles and other waste.