I'm sitting here at Mousam Lake in Maine where I live. A four and a half mile long lake, 60-90 feet deep, looking out of the picture window at the water thirty feet below me down a long flight of stone steps, in early morning. The water temperature is probably 45ish degrees. It's early May. I've not got my boat in yet and have just taken a few casts off the shore to this point. The air temperature is currently 50 degrees.
As I look out of the large sliding door glass (picture on the right), coffee in hand from a glider chair, I see a kayak coming by on my left field of view. It's about 30 ft off the shore. It's one of those department store kayaks. The short ones, plastic, open, paddle layed across it. A guy is sitting in it with a life vest on and beneath it what looks like a hoodie and several layers of clothing. Sort of a hooded Michelin man. The breeze is blowing him at a fairly good clip sideways from left to right in front of me. He seems to have a wrap of line on the tip of his rod. The pole is whipping in the air with the bait flipping up and down to try to get it untangled. He gives up and tries to position the pole so that he can get access to the tip but doesn't seem to know how to get the reel end from sliding off the rounded kayak if he puts the pole on it. It drops in the water and he quickly lifts it out and gives up on that method. Next he tries to put the reel end of the pole in the kayak to get to the tip but it won't go in far at that angle and he gives up. So as he's bending the pole almost 180 degrees to get to the tip to try to unwrap the end, he's glided about one hundred feet from left to right and out of my field of view.
I take another sip of coffee, shake my head, and think, "He came out here on purpose."
Just a casual morning observation....