River life

Slipping from the warmth of a sleeping bag you dressed quickly in a Northern Ontario spring morning. A cooking fire needs to be lit and food packs lowered from trees. Once water is boiling  and a morning coffee made I am alone in my aloneness before the other thirteen guys rouse up from their tents.

a moose

drinks deeply 

from himself

After breakfast the camp is broken down and policed. We look for anything that got left behind. We burn our trash, no plastics or glass was brought. Once the fire is out our packs are lashed into our canoes we head off down river for another 6-8 hours. Lunch is usually eaten on the river.

lead canoe

its reflection 

trails behind

There are many days we all hated the river. The long portages, getting and staying wet in the cold rain. You check yourself daily for ticks and chiggers. You itch from sand flea bites. When our destination was reached and canoes loaded on the train we reflected on our trip,  over 400 miles of river and one month of my life given to the gods of the river. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat I would.

reflecting

on the reflections

of clouds