10/04/2026
Yesterday I went kayaking expecting a beautiful day on the water — but I saw something I had never seen on any of my paddling trips before.
There were thousands of fishing floats, along with fishing line and hooks, scattered along the waterways. Thousands.
My route was a loop from Juniper Run Wayside, through Little Juniper and Juniper, and back to Juniper Run Wayside.
At first, I was simply enjoying the river. Then I noticed a fishing float. Then another. And another. Green, orange, red.
Soon I started seeing fishing line tangled in branches, hooks hanging over the water, and more and more floats.
And then I realized this wasn’t just one messy fishing spot.
It continued along both waterways toward the lake. The scale of it was something I had never encountered before.
Some of the line was tangled in trees. In places, it stretched across the water, almost invisible until my kayak was right beside it.
Instead of simply enjoying my paddle, I started collecting it.
Fishing line. Hooks. Floats. Whatever I could safely reach.
I collected what I could, but there was so much that one person in one kayak could never clean it all up.
And that made me incredibly sad.
Because somewhere, people are gathering together to clean beaches and rivers. Somewhere, someone is carefully incubating the last precious egg of an endangered species. Someone else is holding a tiny newborn against their chest to keep it warm, desperately trying to give a species that is disappearing one more chance.
People dedicate their lives to rescuing wildlife, protecting nests, restoring habitats, and cleaning up the places we all love.
Sometimes an incredible amount of effort goes into saving just one life.
And then someone leaves fishing line, hooks, floats, and trash behind — and the cycle begins all over again.
Fishing line doesn’t disappear when we leave. A hook doesn’t stop being sharp. A turtle doesn’t understand that something is trash. A bird doesn’t know why an invisible line has suddenly wrapped around its body.
And it isn’t only dangerous for wildlife. Nearly invisible fishing line stretched between trees or across a narrow waterway can be dangerous for paddlers too.
What makes this especially difficult for me to understand is that the people who leave these things behind came here because they enjoy this place too.
They came for the fish, the river, the forest, the quiet.
They came because it is beautiful.
And they will probably want to return because it is beautiful.
So why leave behind something that makes it less beautiful — and more dangerous — for everything that remains after we go?
I couldn’t clean the rivers yesterday.
I could only collect what I could safely reach from my kayak.
But maybe showing what I saw can help a little too.
Please take your fishing line, hooks, floats, and trash home with you.
We spend so much time and effort trying to repair the damage already done to nature.
Please don’t leave behind more for someone else — or some innocent animal — to deal with. 💚
