MERRILY, MERRILY, MERRILY, MERRILY ...

IVE GREAT BLUE HERONS tower over their nests in a wetland of Gooding's willows on the eastern shore of Lake Mohave. We've glided silently under them, four paddlers in three motley kayaks. The morning air is quiet and crisp, the vast lake as still as a millpond. We're trying to merge in spirit with the desert air and water, to be a seamless part of nature. Despite their majestic bearing, intimidating size and stiletto beaks, herons are skittish, and I've never been able to approach closer than 20 yards before the birds heave themselves into the air, usually with what I can only assume is a hearty heron curse: ggggrrrraccckkk! This sound cannot be mistaken for "Have a nice day!" So we hang back just outside what seems to be their discomfort zone for a good 20 minutes, watching respectfully and making portraits with long lenses. The birds seem as ancient as stone; their enduring presence makes our 56-year-old artificially created lake seem like a transient whim. Then the stampede of an 80-horsepower engine shatters the equilibrium. A speedboat rockets over to investigate, and although the driver cuts the motor and tries to drift to the rookery, the birds scatter. But we have our photos and memories of a frankly magical moment when we were welcomed into an exotic ecosystem as participants, not merely as intruders. We're spending two days paddling 25 miles of Lake Mohave from a hook-shaped cove named Arizona Bay to Katherine Landing, a boat launch and campground 3 miles north of Davis Dam. The dam, completed in 1953, created the 67-milelong lake, which is third in line of the four major reservoirs of the Colorado River (lakes Powell, Mead, Mohave and Havasu, moving downstream). There aren't any other paddlecraft on the big lake; we've been told the alltoo-frequent afternoon winds squeezing between the mountain ranges on either side discourage our species. Paddlers tend to haunt the Black Canyon region upstream, just south of Hoover Dam and Lake Mead. But we're optimists. The Arizona shoreline, although it lacks the jaw-dropping sandstone spectacles of Lake Powell, is scalloped with lovely coves and sandy beaches where we can duck the wind and camp. And it's relatively quiet

stable the kayak becomes.

Best of all, it makes its way without commotion, providing a quiet, contempla-tive conveyance from which to observe nature. The paddler morphs into a kind of honorary aquatic mammal, a full-fledged participant in the watery ecosystem around him. Kayaking even enhances the senses. Since the slightest change in weather or water conditions affects kayak ers, and the effect is frequently not favor-able, paddlers become highly attuned to the subtleties of the environment.

On our last day, we know we're going to have to confront some unsubtle wind. The Hobie Cat sailors we talked with yesterday warned us it could be bad. We're up at 5:30 a.m., well before dawn, and slip our boats into the lake at 7 a.m., as a breeze already rustles the water. Another portent: Aside from a lone houseboat distantly chugging southward along the opposite shore, today we see no other boats on the lake.

But there are diversions to pry our minds from the what-ifs. A scattering of river rock "islands," each standing a few hundred feet offshore in protected coves, rise out of the water like ancient Meso-potamian ruins ringed by moats. Several of the caliche-encrusted outcroppings feature eroded arches tall enough for us to paddle through - which of course we do. Kayakers are like goldfish in an aquarium, dutifully nosing through whatever amuse-ments happen to be in front of them.

The serious wind slams us at 9 a.m., two hours ahead of its appointment. It's a head-wind, straight out of the south - typical for spring. Our forward progress slows from 3 to 1 mph. Whitecaps start clawing over the bow of Jay and Julie's inflatable. I'm not worried about my fully enclosed sea kayak - as long as it's punching into waves on the perpendicular, the swells could be 6 feet high and wouldn't capsize me. But this is a bad environment for open boats. I ask Jay if he'd like to use the bilge pump strapped on my deck.

"I think so!" he shouts. "My water bottle has just set sail on the floor over here."

By early afternoon the wind is steady at 30 mph and our only choice is to land. A paddler simply can't make any forward progress against this kind of battering. We're about 7 miles short of Katherine Landing, our planned take-out. We're contemplating an unplanned bivouac - at least we have extra food for another night - when a couple of fishermen with a Mer-cury outboard pull up close to us.

"Tie your boats on," one shouts. "We'll give you a tow."

We're not too proud to accept, although it strikes me as absurdly ironic that after a decade of sea kayaking throughout Washington and British Columbian waters, I've had to come to the Mohave Desert to enjoy my first rescue. The fishermen, Gene and Charles, find us the highlight amusement of their day, as well. Making small talk as we bounce toward the marina, Kerrick asks them about the day's fishing.

"Aw, it wasn't no good," Gene drawls.

"Hell it wasn't," Charles bellows. "Look what's followin' behind. We caught the biggest things on the lake!"

Never mind the embarrassment of the rescue; what became clear to me was that the kayak is not at all an ironic vehicle for exploring North America's driest land, but rather the ideal one. It's silent, unobtrusive and efficient, as desert explorers should be. A paddler making 15 miles a day on Lake Mohave - or anywhere else - will need to possess a certain dogged persistence, as do all survivors in the desert. And the fact that a kayaker travels alone, in a self-contained world of action and thought

WHEN you go

Getting There: From Phoenix, take U.S. Route 93 and Interstate 40 northwest to Kingman. Continue northwest on U.S. 93 approximately 30 miles to Cottonwood Road. Turn left and drive approximately 15 miles to Forest Road 38. Turn right and follow the road 5 miles as it turns into 38A, ending at Arizona Bay.

Vehicle Requirements: Katherine Landing is accessible by two-wheel-drive passenger cars. Cottonwood Road is usually accessible by two-wheel-drive vehicles, but check with the park service for current conditions and use caution when approaching the sandy roads near Arizona Bay.

Fees: $5 per vehicle admission to Lake Mead National Recreation Area, including Lake Mohave.

Weather: Spring and fall are the best seasons for boating. Prevailing winds are from the south in spring, north in fall.

Information: Lake Mead National Recreation Area, 702-293-8906 or nps.gov/lame.

even when paddling in a group, also suits the desert, classically a place for solitude and contemplation.

So, the perfect mode of travel in the desert: the kayak. Not merely practical, but completely at home in spirit.