March 25 2016 - Throwback - Turtle Island

We had been paddling, it seemed, for hours.  The four of us in our cedar strip canoe. Bags piled high with our two little ones perched on top. Snacks. Books. Crayons. It was peaceful, happy. The cry of a loon, quiet whispering as we paddled around a curve to see a majestic moose and calf, just there in the water lillies, grazing. Slowly, large heads dripping, lifting to look at us; Lane and Eryn with eyes as big as saucers, looking back.

“They’re having salad,” Eryn explains in a hushed whisper.

I smile and nod back at her, feeling as though my heart might burst. Here on the water, in the woods, both families enjoying the bounty before us.

Paddling further still, we aim towards an island in the centre of the lake, its’ campsite not yet taken by another. We stop and the children spill out of the boat, their happy noises echoing out over the water.  Greg and I, working as one, unload and transition from water traveler to resident camper. The fire is started and in this action we declare our presence. Our daughter is back on the beach, singing out across the water to the loons, calling out – she owns this day. Our son is tending the fire – he is fascinated by it and is busy like a worker bee going away to forage for dry sticks and back again to watch the sparks fly up.

I catch Greg’s eye, he smiles and I return it. We belong here in this place of solitude and silence, of togetherness and peace, and I am grateful.

Thank you for the water, that affords us transport through these vast forests and deep into the land, that nourishes us on our journey, that provides life to everything all around, home to fish and turtles and to animals that graze down into it. Thank you for the earth, the trees that provide shelter, transportation and fuel.  For the eyes that saw those trees and dreamed the canoe, and for the hands that created it. Thank you for the diversity of life, all life, for bulrushes with their tender roots providing food for moose and even for us. Thank you for the seasons, ensuring the continuity of the circle of life, and support for each of us along our journeys. Thank you for the sun, for the light that helps us all to grow, for all things to grow and to be plentiful. Thank you for teaching me to have patience, and to trust, and to know that there is an order of things in the Circle, and that I am all of it and that I am a tiny speck in it.

***

I am rock. Low in the water, I peek out from under this land on my back, out across the dazzling blue. I wait. I hear them first, the thud of the paddle against the gunnels. I have heard it before; for hundreds of years have I heard that sound of people approaching me from across the water. Now and then, between the waves, the pause between each wavelet as it laps up against me, smoothing my surface, I can begin to see the tops of them over the sparkling blue. Their paddle blades splash and as they approach closer I can begin to hear their gentle, low voices, and the musical quality of their laughter, especially the children’s.

I wait for them.

I watch them pause, fishing out a hat from the water with a paddle blade.

Still I wait.

Then suddenly they burst out of the blue and are upon me – paddle blades again, this time reaching out to find a niche where they can make steady their craft against me.

Small feet first – I feel them, cool against my warm, smooth surface, warmed by the sun. They tickle as they skip over me, off to the earth. A more solid foot then, the woman as she steps out, steadying herself on me first then, crouching, she steadies the canoe against me for him. Another solid step out, then they are all there, crouched on me and they take care not to rub the canoe against me. Their packs are being set out upon me. I offer them this – the security, the stability of the land. My heat is theirs. They are respectful of each other, of their craft, of me. They go inland and I remain at the water’s edge. 

I wait.

March 21, 2016 > Race Strategy

My strategy for the MRX sprint paddling race in September is to sneak up on it.  Thinking about the whole distance at once makes me feel kind of sick actually, so instead I'm distracting myself.  You may have noticed in my previous blog post that I've got a nice new "River Rat" decal for my canoe. There's nothing athletic about that. It might almost seem as though I'm preparing to paddle downriver with some friends (you know, Toad and Mole) and and a fully loaded picnic basket. Kind of paints a nice picture, doesn't it?  That's my strategy.

In truth, I took my calendar out yesterday and plotted all the events that I'm using to distract myself from the main event.  I've registered for the Band on the Run 1/2 marathon on June 11th, and I'm running on a Triathlon team in the TriMuskokan on June 26th.  I'll run The Limberlost Challenge, a 14km run through lovely woods and around 5 or so lakes, in July.  Because it's fun.  Because the "real runners" in that race do another 3 laps of the course after I'm finished, and they are so inspiring.  And because, actually, I think it will help.  I do need to have strong legs for the portaging portion of the race, so this fitness component will work in my favour.

I also had a writers workshop scheduled two weeks prior to the "Main Event" but it was just cancelled; I'm so disappointed. That would REALLY have helped me to sneak up on the race. Writing for a week! Mind you, the workshop was scheduled at a lodge near Port Loring and I had planned to bring Ratty with me for some leisurely paddles.

I've decided against signing up for the Big East River X because it's too early in the season for me (I still need to learn how to paddle solo), and also because it is a more technical course, I didn't want to put myself under that much pressure. I already have a full time job, and at 50+ years old I don't want to over do it. Call that an excuse if you like, I'm just managing my reality.  Oh -  and it's held on June 18th.  I don't think I can handle 3 events in three weeks - I'm not remotely like those Aussies who can do 8 Iron-Man Triathlons in 8 days...!  That's just crazy.

That leaves upper body strength and endurance training.  I did some raking in the yard yesterday and I must admit my shoulders are a little sore today.  Well, maybe not sore exactly, but tight, yeah. Nothing a little yoga can't handle. So yep I'll need more raking practice, and I think I'll do some swimming in the pool as well.  If I were a real swimmer I'd sign up for a class, but classes just scare me, frankly.  I have taken a swimming "stroke improvement class" in the past and I did manage to stay off the bottom of the pool and under the radar of the instructor (sorry, Jane - it's not you it's me), but there's something about heading to the pool in the evening that just makes me turn into a whimpering kitten.  The water's just too cold. I know it needs to be cool because swimmers get warm swimming, like in any activity, but I have deja-vu moments where I'm back  to being a scrawny 8-year old kid with knobby knees, shivering away with hypothermia and blue lips.  I might need hypnosis to get past that. Once I can get out onto the water with Ratty, it'll be mileage that will make the difference.  Out on the water often, with friends.  Yeah, nice.

Come and join me, I'll pack the picnic basket.

March 19 2016 > Getting Started

What's the first thing you do after signing up for an 80 km solo C1 Sprint Expedition paddling race?  Well, I have no idea what you are supposed to do, but what I did was email Gus at Hilltop Signs to create a decal with my race/boat name, River Rat, for my new (used) solo Wenonah Advantage canoe.  I picked the name River Rat after one of my all-time favourite books Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame.  I figure that Ratty will be able to help me through this event, even though the rules clearly stipulate "unassisted". Please don't tell.  I will need all the help I can get.

I don't know if the previous owner had named the canoe, but to me it will be River Rat. Or should I say, he. You see, I am already working on a relationship with this boat.  I am going to have to get into shape and train and practice, and he will have to perform as well.  We're going to have to learn to get along with each other, to learn just how far we can push each other. I feel like I'm the lucky one in this deal; this boat has already proven itself over the past three years of racing the Muskoka River X, and I've never raced solo in a boat. Anywhere. Yet.

I know I have my work cut out for me.  I'll have to paddle at least 12 hours pretty much non-stop.  I'll have to portage my Ratty over 10 + portages which might not be quite so bad if I didn't also have to portage all the required survival gear as well. I did manage to get Ratty on and off the truck today (to get him to Hilltop Signs), and portaged him around the house, so that's a start.  I still don't have a yoke for him but I know I'll have to figure that out at some point. 

I still haven't been on the water with him; I actually haven't even sat in him yet. But here we are, signed up for an 80 km race from Huntsville to Bracebridge. I'm not sure I'll be able to go in a straight line on a lake with a slight breeze - never mind on Lake of Bays with a stiff 15-20 knots blowing from the... wherever the prevailing winds blow from. Never mind navigating down the Muskoka River... on the one hand, at least the current will be favourable (I'll be going downstream); on the other hand, there are quite a few places that I'll have to be sure to hit the portage before being swept over a falls.

Did I mention I haven't even sat in this boat yet?  With his billowing sides and pointed bow and stern Ratty looks to me as though he might just decide to toss me out on a whim. Flip in fast water, lose the riff-raff (yours truly) and carry on.  I'll only be slowing him down... but that's not the kind of relationship I'm hoping for. Time will tell.