Montana perks

Letter from the Editor

Our kayaks cut through the green glass with surprising speed, propelled by swift and silent paddle strokes. Flathead Lake was the picture of calm, and the weather was perfect. The giant body of water was framed by snow-capped peaks and a deep blue sky. The crisp, clean air made me feel like I could paddle to Polson and back without even trying.

"This," I thought, "is why I love living here."

Paul Rana and Jim Hunter, my outfitters and guides on Saturday, quickly pulled ahead of me as we left the Woods Bay Marina. Most of my kayaking experience has been in very short boats on much rougher water, and I couldn't help but be amazed at how fast these longer, more streamlined boats cut through the water.

Jim's wife let me use her boat, which was stable and comfortable.

We casually curled around the peninsula, and the two men constantly pointed out details along the cruise - everything from varying algae concentration to rock types to sea wall and dock construction.

Hunter and Rana paddle trip frequently, but their outings occasionally take on the appearance of manual labor. Rana spoke of how he has pulled up all kinds of trash - especially tires - from the lake bottom using a rope and a grappling hook. Someday, when they can get a powerful winch set up on shore and a diver's expertise, Hunter and Rana plan on hauling out what looks to be an ancient septic tank with a massive chain attached to it.

Our destination was the Flathead Lake Brewing Company, where people were celebrating Brew Year's Eve - the 74th anniversary of the end of prohibition.

We continued to hug the shoreline, and our last stop was at a humongous tree that disappeared into the abyss. Apparently, the tree is a popular spot for schooling fish, but none were around on Saturday.

I asked Paul what kind of tree it was.

"Dead," he said.

We reached our docking station, and I managed to get out of my boat without falling over, but I had a close call or two.

I'm not sure if you've ever walked into a business dressed in a wet suit and neoprene booties before, but it's not pleasant. I felt like I had lost a bet or something. So when we walked into the brewery, I tried to look as macho as possible, which wasn't that possible.

Also, I'm not really a beer drinker. I've just never liked the taste. Somehow I was going to have to choke down a pint while wearing my giant neoprene costume.

I went with the crowd and ordered a pint of Wild Mile Wheat beer.

Hmmm… It was pretty good. Actually, it was better than that. It was excellent. In fact, head brewmaster Jason Courtney is my new best friend. Now I see why his recipes are world-renowned.

We finished our pint-a-piece (Paul said the rule is "Only one if by sea.") and walked back down the hill to our resting boats. The trip back was much quicker, since we cut across the bay instead of following the shore line, but the scenery was just as breathtaking.

We didn't really speak much on the return trip. The light splash of paddles breaking the water's surface said it all: This is a great place to live.