Taking an afternoon trip to Lake Wintergreen is like finding a Narnia-type rip in the fabric of urban life; it’s amazing how easy it is to slip into its otherworldly atmosphere. The woods around the lake have a cathedral ceiling formed by arching pines and stately oaks; the forest floor is a bouncy blend of pine needles and wood rot. The western prong of the main trail passes through a pop-up village of lean-tos previous visitors have made by propping and weaving fallen limbs. No one I know knows why; it’s apparently just an asynchronous collaboration of strangers in a wood.
I’ve walked the 1.6-mile trail around Lake Wintergreen more times than I can count. Its relative ease makes it great for multi-generational outings (though it’s worth noting that, toward the outermost part of the hiking loop, a rocky rise is unconducive to wheels and bad knees). There are always new details to observe on the shores—a wasp nest, a patch of weird fungi—but it wasn’t until a recent visit that I entered the long-admired vista of the lake itself. It was like going to the Yale University Art Gallery to see canvases of the Hudson River School and being invited to step into the Bierstadt.
Kingfisher Adventures made it easy. They’ve offered walk-up kayak rentals on the Mill River since 2021, out under the Orange Street bridge every Saturday and Sunday plus holidays and full moons (weather allowing). In 2024, they added Lake Wintergreen to their weekend repertoire, and if you sign your online waiver in advance, you really can just walk up and be on the water in minutes. Ages three and up are welcome and very little experience is necessary.
“A day on the water is a day well spent,” says Brian Tomlinson, a partner in the business who also manages Kingfisher’s soothing and stunning Instagram. It’s hard not to be a little jealous of Tomlinson’s job when you encounter him on the shores of Lake Wintergreen wearing tie-dye and exuding a chill enthusiasm for nature. On a recent excursion he led (guided group outings are offered, typically for corporate team-building and local camps), Tomlinson told me his group was treated to an up-close view of an osprey as it snatched a fish from the lake, then ate its meal in the branches above them. He also showed me a video he’d taken of an adorable gang of stoats frolicking at the Mill River boat launch.
On a recent afternoon at Lake Wintergreen, my son and I opted for a tandem kayak. One of us had a case of Little League elbow and the other a canoeing badge from Girl Scouts that can never be taken away, so it was pretty clear who would be doing most of the work. Still, the paddling wasn’t strenuous; we skimmed along almost as easily as the jolty tiny insects whose legs dimpled the surface of the water all around us. Gliding across the lake, we heard the siren song of swimming, technically against park rules, as are motorized watercraft. In the silence, it didn’t take long to feel contemplative, attuning to our own thoughts amidst the steady plunk and swish, the eddies spinning off the end of the paddles. At 4 p.m. on a Sunday, we only shared the lake with two paddleboarders, one fisherman and a couple of turtles catching the late afternoon sun on a fallen pine log.
Kayaking is available at Lake Wintergreen between Memorial Day and Labor Day, from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. on Saturdays and 11 to 5 on Sundays. The East Rock location operates for an extra hour on both ends. Additional times and tours are available with advance booking. For walk-ups, a single kayak is $26 (after tax) for an hour, $18 for kids under 18. The double/tandem kayak is $48. Tomlinson says the best way to stay in the loop for standard and bonus offerings from Kingfisher Adventures is to get on their email list; spots for the full-moon paddles purportedly fill up quickly.
It’s good to enter nature with information but maybe just as important to enter with wonder. Arm yourself accordingly (bug spray, sunblock), but be ready to be disarmed by the kind of beauty you only see when you get quiet and look closely. The sky and tree line are replicated, Monet-like, on the surface of the water, and deeper down, a vegetal kingdom sways. Somewhere in the depths swim large-mouth bass and channel catfish, but I never earned the fishing badge. If they saw me peering through the water lilies, they too went home with tales of species-spotting on a summer afternoon.
Written and photographed by Sarah Harris Wallman.
