It was so calm that the canoes seemed to be floating above the water, their reflections as real as the crafts themselves. The shores and islands were double and the flat spit of rock ahead lay like a great spear in the water. A few gulls careened overhead, and loon calls echoed against the hills. A great golden silence lay over the lake. We unconsciously watched our paddles so they would not strike the gunwales and break the spell. -Sigurd Olson