Head down, into the wind, paddling north towards Missisquoi Bay in Lake Champlain, I yelled across the water to the woman in the gray kayak ahead and to my right.
"Hey, Martha! What was that you said about wanting to kayak on a big freshwater lake because you don't like the way tidal areas smell? I'm not so sure freshwater lakes smell any better. We've been downwind of some big dairy for ages now!"
Martha laughed and yelled back, "I don't know. The chart says that's Hog Island Point. Maybe we're downwind of a pig farm. Can you smell the difference between cows and pigs?"

Jim joked with us about honing our "odor identification" skills, learning to distinguish aromas wafting over the water, whether they were a combination of silage and cow manure or just plain cow manure.

This trip wasn't turning out quite the way we had planned it. Martha had convinced me to try something new for us, an extended kayak trip on freshwater instead of our usual trips to the coast of Maine. I thought I'd miss the dynamics of tides and ocean currents, but Martha had reassured me that there would be no hauling of gear and boats across intertidal areas, and that the lake would be warmer than Maine's frigid waters, perfect for swimming without ending up with a salty coating on our skin. It sounded good to me.