It’s summer. All I really want is to be outside – in the lake swimming, on the rock sunning, or best of all, out in the canoe camping.
We were on the fifth day of a six-day trip. Packing up in the morning was leisurely, as we did not have far to go. Allan spent a couple of hours paddling around the small lake and fishing. When he got back, I spent a couple hours in the canoe and on the land, exploring, studying the eskers and wetlands.
This was familiar territory for us. We’ve been travelling this local route for more than 30 years. Allan has finally realized the portages really are getting longer -- it’s not just aging that makes it feel that way. As we travel from lake to lake, we see the old logging dams rotting away; the lake levels are lower, the portages are longer.
Two small lakes later, big drops of rain fell from the sky. We could see the cloud just passing by, so we didn’t bother to pull out the raincoats. The sun came out just before we got to the next portage. We looked around the old flume, now sagging even more into the stream. With lowered lake level here, and the next lake as well, this portage was twice as long as it was 40 years ago.
With darker sky ahead, we put covers over the packs. We had the raincoats handy. Then the wind came up and we barely had time to paddle to a flat spot on shore to put up a tarp. No time for raincoats, we got soaked tying out the lines. Under cover, we changed into dry clothes and had second lunch while waiting for the storm to pass.
Lightning storms are filled with awe. A brilliant flash, and I count slowly . . . one …two … three … four … BOOM! Not too close. The rain pours straight down, more lightning, more counting, then suddenly it’s over.
We finish our lunch out from under the tarp looking out on the silvery calm lake.
Far from the technology we use at home to watch the radar websites, the weather forecasts, predictions for the week, the day and the hour, we are back to our original nature, in nature, and clearly understanding that another shower is on the way. We decide there’s just enough time to move to the only campsite on this lake and set up before the next onslaught.
Our plans were to go another few kilometres, another few lakes. Yet much of the joy of our canoe travel is the lack of a schedule, the ability to change the route, the plans; to come closer to living in the moment.
Finally I have learned that the best part is the journey, not the destination.
