This trip...together...

[Odyssey]

I'll start, you continue...let's tell a story...

The wind in the pines whispered "yeesssss", and so leaving all worries and woes behind me I pushed off from shore, fully loaded for whatever adventure awaited my paddle and pack, canoe and carry. I leaned into the wind...

 

[yellowcanoe]

The eagle sat in her nest in the pine above your departing canoe. Was she interested in you as food? Or was she looking at the fish you were about to glide over?

 

[Pringles]

I was headed northwest, toward that little gap in the trees, off in the distance. That's where the first portage was.

I felt the warmth of the wood of the paddle, and the gentle but strong flex during each stroke. The pine smell was wonderful, and the sun gently warmed my shoulder and back as I moved up the lake.

 

[Alan Gage]

As I approached the narrow gap in the trees what started as a murmur turned into a dull roar and I could see the frothing water ahead. I was able to slip to shore in an eddy near the head of the rapids and stepped out of the canoe onto the rocks for a better look. I'm hoping I can run it but may have to resort to lining or portaging.

 

[jcavenagh]

Deciding that discretion is the better part of valor, I lined the rapid. Back in the boat I found myself in the prettiest little pool you could ever want to see. The water here was flat and calm. I could see a beaver dam about a km ahead. I paddled to the dam and pulled over it.

 

[yellowcanoe]

and fell in the water getting back in... Got in the boat and looked downstream.. there were four more beaver dams and a portage sign after the fourth.

 

[sweeper]

Just before the portage I ran out of water and had to drag my canoe thru the mud, losing a boot in the process.

 

[yellowcanoe]

Just before the portage I ran out of water and had to drag my canoe thru the mud, losing a boot in the process.

i thought this was supposed to be fiction.. Just sayin

Not having any other wetshoes I rummaged around in the cold mud for fifteen minutes. I jammed the filthy thing back on and promptly fell on my face with my pack on..

 

[sweeper]

The portage was very pleasant, downhill in both directions and I felt energized at the completion.

 

[memaquay]

Something was moving at the end of the portage. It was big and black and hairy. I reached for my trusty chainsaw.

 

[sweeper]

You saw it so that eliminates one possibility.

 

[yellowcanoe]

Turned out it was my neighbors wife.

 

[Boreal Birch]

She had just finished baking a fresh batch of blueberry muffins in her DIY reflector oven. We sat by the fire eating fried in bacon grease speckled trout, baked beans and the muffins, all washed down with hot black cowboy coffee from our tin mugs.

 

[memaquay]

Reluctantly, I put my chainsaw away, but not before I shaved Yellow's neighbor's wife. We call that the "Black and Decker Beauty Kit" up in the north. dang, those muffins were good though.

 

[yellowcanoe]

In appreciation I chainsawed a gift for her.. Out of jackpine a fully antlered wooden moose. I thanked her and moved on reluctantly to load up the canoe again.

 

[Odyssey]

And that was when I realized my map was missing. Good thing I keep the others right here in my...oops. Now where did they get to?

 

[Nodrama43]

as I did this I wondered why I had not taken more of an interest in golf.

 

[jcavenagh]

It was getting on toward dusk now. So I paddled a few km to the end of the lake and camped at the beginning of a portage. After a nice hot meal I had a small fire and finally climbed in the tent and fell fast asleep.

 

[Marten]

I was abruptly awakened by a loud snort from the lake side of the tent.

 

[memaquay]

Fortunately, I had brought my big fat, white tripping cat. Now you may wonder what I am talking about, but it is just as I described. A big white cat who loved canoe tripping. Also, my first line of predator defence. As I jumped out of the tent, I could see eyes glowing close by the fire, so I grabbed my pussy by the tail and flung him right at the eyes. A horrible wailing noise engulfed the forest, and all I could see was a white blur, feet of fury scratching at light speed. Two minutes later, Misty came strolling back, daintily licking the blood off her paws. She walked by me, with that bored stroll cats have perfected, and snuggled back into her sleeping bag, which was actually my sleeping bag, but not tonight apparently.

(loosely based around a true story)