Who have you meet that made a memory.......

[snapper]

Here's another one that came to mind after reading these posts...Our trip began on the Bog River and took us across Lows Lake to the carry into Big Deer Pond. From Big Deer Pond it's about 2 miles over to the Oswegatchie River; this is for folks unfamiliar with the area. Anyway, this was an end-of-the-year canoe trip for the college I work at and this particular group of folks was pretty small physically. Our canoes at the time were all Old Town "Discovery 169" models; decent on the water but heavy as all get out on your shoulders. Because we knew we had a long grunt ahead of us we decided to do a double carry and go with our gear first. We took a rest on the other side and then came back for our canoes. We figured either folks could double carry or go single and take lots of breaks & switch out from underneath the beasts. Much to our surprise, we were about a third of the way over and here come two of our canoes! There was a group of guys who had been around the pond fishing when we went through; we never saw them at all. They saw the size of our group, the hefty canoes and figured why not help us out? It was the nicest thing in the world to see these guys taking our boats over this long portage trail. Ever since then I've tried my best to "pay it forward" based on their example. We never did see them again but they were, as the hiking community likes to say, true trail angels.

That's all for now. Take care and until next time...Be well.

snapper

 

[Guest]

Cool thread, and has brought back some memories.

In 1988 I had put in at Pierce Ferry at the end of Lake Mead and paddled up the Colorado into the Grand Canyon. Yes, “up”, at the time Lake Mead was full and it was possible legally to paddle up into the canyon as far as Separation Rapid without a permit.

I had no river map and no idea where I was along the way, but planned to stay as long as my provisions proved to last. I had canoed upstream for several days and was camped in a side canyon when a rafting party pulled in a day or so before the end of their trip.

They were surprised to see a solo canoe and asked “How long are you staying?”

Stealing a line from something I was reading at the time I replied “In a place like this it seems inappropriate to think about time in anything less than a season, so I’ll probably stay ‘til I’m almost out of food”

Whereupon they bestowed upon me all of their excess provender. They had a lot of wilty carrots left over as I remember, and some other even less desirable grub.

Having stared my intentions I felt honor-bound to hold true, and I ate it all before floating out.

Never before has a bad late-night all-you-can-eat Las Vegas casino buffet tasted so good.

 

[Guest]

I don't recall ever having had any bad experiences with people, at least while canoe camping. Just lucky I guess. Two people reached out to help me, on two different occasions. The first was when my wife and i were trying to put in at a very wet section of meandering stream. It had been pouring with rain all day. A team of girl scouts paddled up, with their leader. As they were unloading, talking and laughing, I was settling our gear into our canoe. My partner was ready & steady in the bow. One last 115 L pack was awkward for me, and I gingerly squished my way through the slippery muck and stones. A scout stepped forward and offered to help. She didn't just offer, she really wanted to help me. I didn't see duty or obligation on her face, but real concern; like an able youngster has for an aging adult. I could've hugged her in gratitude there and then, just for who she was, and what she represented at that moment. I resisted my "huggy nature", and instead thanked her sincerely, and assured her that I was "Just taking my time". Her kind and generous spirit that was a little light in that miserable downpour, is something I shall never forget.
On the very last, easiest, and busiest portage of a trip, I was too busy talking with my wife by my side, to pay attention to my feet. My ability to walk and talk at the same time isn't something I should take for granted. I caught my toe on a pebble and fell with the kitchen pack on my back. As I fell I pirouetted so I'd land unhurt on the pack. If only I'd used the fancy footwork to stay upright and walk...Anyway, I went down in a loud pots and pans clanging crash. The absurdity of it all caused me to laugh long and loud. My missus just smiled down at me. A fellow ahead of us however, spun round and bounded back to offer an outstretched hand. When I managed to suppress my silliness, I gladly accepted his help. I kept hold of his hand to shake it, and thank him gratefully. I repeated my thanks as he continued on up the trail. He was another in the sea of humanity, trying to get away from it all; only to wind up, reaching out a helping hand.
I try to "pay it forward" every chance I get. On one quiet portage, we came across two couples struggling with their gear. As I was only lightly loaded for the carry, I decided to grab a couple of their items to shorten and lighten their journey. At the other end, the biggest member of their party, dropped his stuff, and spun round to see me with more of his stuff. He looked confused, and then he looked angry. He also looked the size of a brick you know what. (Professional wrestler comes to mind.) Anyway, in a voice I hardly recognized as my own, I assured him I was just helping him out, as my hands were free and we were heading in the same direction. He relaxed. (I could tell by his huge knotted neck muscles, the size of my arms.) In future, I might be more careful where, and when, I try to reach out a helping hand. I'll always believe, that whatever the outcome, it's the thoughtful act of reaching out that counts.

 

[Guest]

Just one more boring tale from me, and then I'll leave you all alone. This was another "helping hand moment."
Growing up, our family spent a week or two during school summer holidays in northern Ontario. We would either rent a cottage, or stay with family who lived there. One summer while there, a cousin of similar age was also spending a fun week there. We decided to hike from the town up through the forest to the nearby fire tower. He'd never been, but I had tagged along with brothers and cousins several times, and assured him "I know my way". I didn't. Halfway to the tower, we lost the trail, and started wandering. Eventually we found ourselves on a lakeshore, and although we knew we couldn't be far from town, had no reckoning of direction or distance. Across the small lake I saw an elderly man and who I took to be his young teen granddaughter. They were outside a cabin working. I got up the courage to call across for directions to town. He spoke to her, and she calmly strolled down to an old aluminum outboard tied at their dock. Tossing off the painters, she stepped in, pulled the cord, sat down, and slowly steered the small boat over to us. When she cruised up to us, I repeated my question, but she just pointed the bow into shallower water and quietly said "Get in. I'll take you." She, like her grandfather was First Nations, and completely uninterested in talking with me. I sensed no rudeness, but any amount of small talk from me was met with a steady gaze over my shoulder, and towards the other shore. In a few minutes we arrived, and she stopped the boat in shallows. My cousin and I both looked down at the tannin stained waters and thought the same thing, but only I had the temerity to ask "Can't you take us in a little closer?" She stoically sat without answering. When I asked the stupid question "Do we get out in this? Where's town?" All she did was point. We gingerly stepped out, and sank up to our asses in the most vile smelling stink I'd ever known. We waded ashore and stood feeling confused and humiliated. When I turned around, I wasn't sure what to say, and in my total embarrassment could offer my sincere "Thanks." My cousin starting squelching his way through scrub willow towards town, but I stood and watched as this girl turned in her seat, pushed the lever back, and slowly reversed out of the shallows. Without giving us a second glance, she headed back across to the distant cabin by the shore. I watched her all the way. I was entranced by her casualness and confidence. There was one thing that I just had to know, and have wondered all these years...Did she drop us off into loon crap on purpose? Was this some kind of a joke, or just an unfortunate coincidence? I'd like to think she was giving us a little lesson in humility. Don't take things lightly and for granted. When you go into the backcountry, go prepared. I'm eternally thankful for the boat ride she gave us, though I suppose I should be thankful for the lesson too. I can easily laugh about it now.

 

[Greywolf]

In the world of the outdoors I have never met anyone who would not do for another when they were in need, whether it is the need for food, rescue, or just companionship, people of the outdoors are just GREAT!

 

[Guest]

One feller in particular

One feller in particular

In the Adirondacks, Sunday afternoon, in the fall. I was angling for a particularly good lakeside campsite. Three solo canoes at the landing. One of the paddlers was down by the landing, so I asked if they were planningto break camp. He said no. We got to talking. He invited me into camp. They invitedme to stay, and I did.

One feller in particular and I had lots in common,and just kind of hit it off. It was a great time all the way around. I stayed in touch with him, but I never paddled with him again, or saw him again. He was diagnosed with and then passed away from cancer in less than a year. Tragic, he was relatively young, but it comforted me some to know, from correspondence and other things, that he clearly lived life to the fullest while he was here. Cheers, buddy, whereverand whatever you be now.

I like/prefer to go solo, and value my solitude, and I still do, but that trip opened me up to my fellow canoeists when I am outthere. And, of course: Seize the day; Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think;The future is promised to no one; Do not take life too seriously, you will never get out of it alive.

The wheel turns. We had a baby lastspring, late in life, which was the best thing that ever happened. It crimped my paddling last year, and I missed going to the Adirondacks for the first timein 20+ years, but I hardly noticed, really. I hope to paddle lots this year,especially short day trips locally.