Years later, I found a more direct path to hike straight down to the cove from my domicile, but much to my disappointment, I returned to find said mudflat covered by water. And since, every now and then, I make the pilgrimage to see what, if any mud might still be found there. Once I went there when the lake was low, only to find much of the mudflat had been washed away by torrential rains. Other times, I’d find a little mud here and there along the edges, but only in small patches, and no deeper than 12 or 18 inches.
But recently, I heard the lake was the lowest it’s been in five years, and hearing that, that familiar urge to explore and resume my search for the holy grail… err I mean, some deep mud to sink in within walking distance of home, returned. So a few weeks ago, a relatively cool day with low humidity happened to correspond with some free time, so I once more set out with hopes of finding some deep mud, but expecting that I wouldn’t find much of anything as usual, especially given the little rainfall we’ve had lately. My arrival at the now dry creek bed (which during my last trek in the spring was a miniature torrent of water) was at first, as expected: not promising. But walking the last 150 yards to the lake, I was greeted by a bit of a pleasant surprise.
The most promising looking spot I’d yet seen there
Eager to check it out, but as always, not expecting much, I hastily trudged up the right side of the picture with little thought. But as I kept going, I couldn’t help but think: this might actually turn out to be pretty deep! However, right after I passed the shorter fallen tree, I looked up, and to my annoyance, I saw a boat, coming around the bend of the lake 
Now mind you, in the eight to ten times I’ve been down there in the last decade or so, I don’t once recall seeing a boat that far up the cove. But as my luck would have it, here comes a boat. So the logical thing to do at this point would be to turn around and go back the way I came, except I’m not Spock, and I have a tendency to do the more illogical thing. Instead, my illogical mind decided to dart across the mud to the other side, maybe thinking I’d get out of sight faster I guess. Fortunately, the mud was barely knee deep in the path I by chance chose, and it was loose enough I could lumber through it in short time, even with boots on.On the other side, and on firmer ground, I hastily retreated out of sight up the cove in Big Foot fashion ― quite possibly the image that came to the minds of the boaters if they happened to see me, which despite my brisk retreat, I believe I was still well within their sight, unless they happened to be more focused on something else. With just over an hour of daylight remaining, and half of that needed for the return trek, I was pretty bummed, thinking I’d lost what could’ve been my first best opportunity to sink deep. But ever persistent, and not wanting to let this opportunity slip away so easily, I decided to take a little side trip farther up the dry creek bed for a few minutes to see if much had changed in the last few months, hoping the boaters would vamoose in that time.
About fifteen minutes later, I returned, and cautiously approached the end of the cove. And to my reprieve, the boaters had left!
(though later, I think I learned why they didn’t elect to stay, other than having seen a shady looking figure suddenly turn and walk away at their sight). In hind sight, it was probably for the best my initial search was interrupted, as I wasn’t really best prepared for what was in store. The first time around, I had forgotten to find a good stick and empty my pockets. This time, I thought to do both, and once again, set out into the muck.By in large, it was a light and silty type of mud, perhaps something close to pluff mud, averaging two feet, or slightly more in depth. I crisscrossed the parts above water, and seeing bubbles popping up sporadically all around me, my hopes were heightened. But after about ten minutes of searching, and finding nothing deeper, I resigned myself to get more wet, and test the areas under a few, to maybe six or eight inches of water. In most other places, I could feel a hard rocky bottom under my boots, but in the narrow spit of water on the left side, just passed the longer fallen tree, I felt a softer bottom beneath the thinner mud on top. I pumped my legs some, and sure enough, I broke through the thicker mud beneath and sank another foot or so, before again hitting a solid bottom. But I quickly realized I was now quite stuck in these boots, and for some reason, I was still hoping to find an even deeper spot. But getting free to search further was going to be quite the challenge now. The boots wouldn’t budge pulling straight up, in fact, my feet actually started to come out of them instead of letting go of altogether.
The stick I’d brought now came in quite handy. I rocked and shimmied my boots back and forth using the stick for support until one boot finally came free, followed by the other. But during the five minutes struggle, I’d fallen over a few times and pretty much soaked myself to my shoulders (hence why I would’ve preferred not to sink in the mud under the water, but oh well). I retreated to the edge and tried to put my half off boots back on, but that wasn’t so easy, so instead, I decided to ditch them. I went back in and searched up and down the vein of water, finding it significantly easier now to sink and get out of even the thick mud deep down. But alas, the deepest I got was about up to my waist in the water, with the watery surface of the mud a few inches below. By now, I had about twenty minutes to go before sunset, and little more than that of twilight after that, and I was under incessant assault from swarms of horseflies (so maybe that’s why the boaters left earlier?), despite having treated my clothes with Permethrin (apparently that has no effect on them, but they don’t like Deet, which I used to use, until I heard Permethrin kills Ticks and Chiggers, which suits me fine and dandy. Now I guess I’ll use both). So, I decided it was best to retreat from the muck, and begin the arduous trek back.
Annoyances aside, for me, it was quite the muddy adventure, and it was exciting to finally experience exploring and sinking in a larger expanse of mud deeper than ankle and mid-calf. Easily my best experience (attempting) to sink for myself yet. However not far from home, and not especially hard to get down to, it is a trying uphill return trek, which is certainly doable under normal circumstances. But worn out from slogging through knee and thigh deep mud for some thirty minutes (I recall the Dirty Muse video: Testing 1, 2, 3, where Slave Lisa says “very tiring.” I now know that was a “very true” statement
), and my clothes and boots weighted down with mud and water, it was a quite exhausting return journey. And though I wish I could’ve sunk to my chest, or perhaps even shoulders (I’m just like Mick Jagger, “I can’t get no satisfaction” 
), the thrill of the hunt is always exciting for me, and that little adrenaline rush when you feel yourself starting to sink, not knowing how deep you’re going to go, as well as getting (temporarily) stuck was still fun. I hope to go back again soon if the lake goes down another foot or two, as I could see mud beneath the water for as far as I could see and I know a foot less in water depth could equal another 20 plus feet horizontally of mudflats to explore. But next time, I’ll either attempt to forge a path for my ATV, or else bring a backpack with a wet and dry towel, fresh clothes, extra shoes, and a bottle of Deet. I feel bad hoping for even lower lake levels, but it sure makes for better sinking adventures!
Nice work duuudeization, thank you!