Is it too late for me to be a limnologist? I could study inland lakes, rivers, streams and wetlands.   I would find out about the lake that has beckoned us to the north. It is called Long Lake, only one of many long lakes I’m sure. But realistically I think my study would not be so scientific as to warrant a title. Instead, I would focus on the beautiful subtle colors of rocks that line the shore, or that glimpse of green or blue shining through the trees, and the glass-like surface, so I can decide if it will be a good morning to kayak. If I lie on the dock and look down into the water I can clearly see the bottom of the lake, it is sandy and speckled with rocks and the occasional clamshell. I would make note of a snail shell bobbing along the surface. Soft green seaweed waves back at me. I would know about how the color of the lake reflects the sky, and that the colorless cold gray day feels so different from a warm sunny day. The lake has the power to change my mood, but it also is a physical force. We pull our dock out of the lake in the fall so that the fierce north wind won’t send chunks of frozen ice slamming into the shore and shatter the wood into splinters.

On occasions a prehistoric type turtle head surfaces and reminds me that I am not swimming alone, the fish that jumps or the little muskrat aren’t quite so primeval.

Our Long Lake is 19 miles long.   It really is a long lake with depths of 70’ in some areas. It is a spring- fed lake, and many people drive to the source at the far north end of the lake to fill up gallon jugs of cold drinking water.  There is a small space to pull your car over and then on the lake side of the road is an unremarkable metal faucet sticking out of the ground with water running freely. There is a tin cup hanging nearby for a cold drink of spring water. It always seems odd to leave with the water still running.

Long Lake is the Walleye Capital of Wisconsin and is home to loons, bald eagles and herons. The health of a lake can be measured by how many nesting pairs of loons are on the lake during the summer. I think there is somewhere about 7 or 8 pairs a summer on our lake and they are counted and checked on by a group of volunteers known as Loon Rangers. More volunteers on the lake inform boaters to check their propellers and bilge water for invasive plant species like curlyleaf pondweed that may have traveled on their boats to Long Lake, these plants will choke a lake with a thick bed of weeds.

Ancient logs rest on the bottom of Long Lake from the logging era, old weathered boat houses lean improbably along the shore, a tree grips the bank with long roots but dangles over the clear water and falls when no one is looking.

Summer comes and the thick ice that you could drive on in your truck is now gone, no evidence. A pontoon boat goes by and we wave in celebration of another day on Long Lake.

There is nothing more important to all of us who love the lake than taking care of this gift.

“How often we speak of the great silences of the wilderness and of the importance of preserving them and the wonder and peace to be found there. They will always be there and their beauty may not change, but should their silences be broken, they will never be the same.” Sigurd F. Olson