I had my camera bag right by the door, and going out I just felt I didn't want to drag it along. By my plans it was altogether unnecessary. I was on my way to register our 12-foot inflatable with the state of New Jersey (55 pound thrust Minn Kota Endura--nice), visit my parents, and a friend at Princeton Medical Center with a bill over a million. No problem with that--he's alive and completely confident.
But I make it up as I go along. Plans I never allow to bind me anymore than I would any other tool. I turned out of Washington Circle onto Route One north, vaguely intending to cut through Kingston and either take Route 533 or 206 into Somerset County and then on home. I ended up on a road flanking the south side of Lake Carnegie as it passes "Hogwarts School" (Princeton Center for Arts and Education) and follows along the Delaware & Raritan Canal back westward. In short order I realized where I was headed--the Millstone River. But it wasn't until I got there that--of course--I found ample parking exists for an area I've actually had in mind on occasion over the years, where the Millstone passes underneath the canal to enter Lake Carnegie at the lake's deepest hole of over 20 feet. I have not been here for about 30 years, when I caught a largemouth on a crankbait in the lake right about this time of year where I soon found myself standing. But certainly no lilypads had emmerged then as early as they have now. I can hardly believe it--lilypads, New Jersey, and the month of March.
Experiencing this place moved me profoundly--the Millstone, canal, lake, the fishermen with a five-gallon bucket full of big bullheads--brown/yellow bullheads at that, nice, healthy fish--the lilypads, the crew racers--some from Annapolis Naval Academy--and just a great, wholesome feeling that I have been at this place all these 30 years.
It's the interchange of waterways that attracts me strongly to the vistas here, the sense of connection to Roman aqueducts and other marvels of ingenuity in a wide open world. I don't care for the ancient Romans so much since I despise power and might when it is valued above intellectual reflection and aesthetics. Intellectuality is fun, aesthetics joyous, and power and might without these values are brutal stress and torment, despair, defeat, and death. If intellect and aesthetics triumph, there will be no war, no presumed reasons for it. But I appreciate the mind's practicality in any civilization. A friend of my younger brother once suggested years ago that I could be an engineer. It is fascinating, but I would write about engineering before I would do it. There's only so much time in life.
I want to go there again, with my son, a rod and reel apiece, and a bucket of shiners (and camera). Why shiners? Well, I caught the bass years ago on a proper crankbait in cold water. Now I might go in July--with shiners--because I want to behave contrary to expectation, and not even care if we catch anything until we might. I just want to be there.
But I make it up as I go along. Plans I never allow to bind me anymore than I would any other tool. I turned out of Washington Circle onto Route One north, vaguely intending to cut through Kingston and either take Route 533 or 206 into Somerset County and then on home. I ended up on a road flanking the south side of Lake Carnegie as it passes "Hogwarts School" (Princeton Center for Arts and Education) and follows along the Delaware & Raritan Canal back westward. In short order I realized where I was headed--the Millstone River. But it wasn't until I got there that--of course--I found ample parking exists for an area I've actually had in mind on occasion over the years, where the Millstone passes underneath the canal to enter Lake Carnegie at the lake's deepest hole of over 20 feet. I have not been here for about 30 years, when I caught a largemouth on a crankbait in the lake right about this time of year where I soon found myself standing. But certainly no lilypads had emmerged then as early as they have now. I can hardly believe it--lilypads, New Jersey, and the month of March.
Experiencing this place moved me profoundly--the Millstone, canal, lake, the fishermen with a five-gallon bucket full of big bullheads--brown/yellow bullheads at that, nice, healthy fish--the lilypads, the crew racers--some from Annapolis Naval Academy--and just a great, wholesome feeling that I have been at this place all these 30 years.
It's the interchange of waterways that attracts me strongly to the vistas here, the sense of connection to Roman aqueducts and other marvels of ingenuity in a wide open world. I don't care for the ancient Romans so much since I despise power and might when it is valued above intellectual reflection and aesthetics. Intellectuality is fun, aesthetics joyous, and power and might without these values are brutal stress and torment, despair, defeat, and death. If intellect and aesthetics triumph, there will be no war, no presumed reasons for it. But I appreciate the mind's practicality in any civilization. A friend of my younger brother once suggested years ago that I could be an engineer. It is fascinating, but I would write about engineering before I would do it. There's only so much time in life.
I want to go there again, with my son, a rod and reel apiece, and a bucket of shiners (and camera). Why shiners? Well, I caught the bass years ago on a proper crankbait in cold water. Now I might go in July--with shiners--because I want to behave contrary to expectation, and not even care if we catch anything until we might. I just want to be there.
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