By Kurt Michael
Reach forward, stab the paddle blade into the water, pull through, and then rotate the paddle back out. Rhythm and pacing are everything, and the repetitive motion almost became hypnotic as my paddle board glided silently across the lake. In the distance were two mountains that rose out of the water and looked down on me. In their presence, I was reminded how small I am in the midst of God’s creation. I
continued to paddle across Beaver Creek Reservoir (See Map).
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