Temporarily Out of Order

The weather was calm around Wiarton, so Jon and I decided that it would be a great chance to try to paddle 40 kilometers to our next designated campsite. Early that morning we started to load our boats and, as I was lifting the last bit of heavy equipment into the canoe, I strained my back. The mid section of my back throbbed with pain - it hurt to move, sit, stand and breath. We tried to paddle, I lasted only about half a kilometer. Tears rolled down my cheeks, not because of the pain, but because I felt I had disappointed everyone - Jon, family, friends, supporters and, worst of all, myself. We decided that it was best to take some time off to heal. My parents brought us back home where I visited the doctor and chiropractor, relaxed in a comfy bed and stretched my aching back muscles. Jon also had some marks on his shoulders from carrying heavy packs, so we decided to cut back some of our food suppliers and carry them in smaller waterproof containers. I’m getting better everyday and we are anxious to dip our paddles back into the waters of Georgian Bay.

Lost Pigeons

After a few days of cold weather and long stretches of paddling, we welcomed the sight of our friends cottage. Mike and Sue, the owners of Adventure Guide, invited us to spend the night. Sue made homemade chocolate chip cookies and their children, Jonathan and Ben, entertained us with many stories of their own. It was a little taste of luxury - a nice bed, a warm shower and omelettes for breakfast.
That evening we paddled into Cape Crocker Indian Tent and Trailer Park. Cape Crocker, in the late 1800's, was infamous for having hordes of passenger pigeons migrate through the area. Although they could reproduce quickly, the fate of this bird was short lived. By the early 1900's, widespread hunting lead to their disappearance. That night, tucked into my sleeping bag, I thought about how passenger pigeons were taken for granted - a bird so plentiful it was believed that they would never become extinct. My mind also drifted to thoughts of how we, as North Americans, often take freshwater for granted. As I pondered, in the darkness of the night, I hoped that somehow we have learned from the story of the passenger pigeon and that the future of this precious freshwater resource, the Great Lakes, will not fall into the same fate.

Wild Horses

There are so many things to see along the shoreline of the Bruce Peninsula - the spectacular Niagara Escarpment, eerie shipwrecks, playful waterfowl and, to our surprise, white snow! It’s the middle of May and a few shoreline caves along the escarpment still contain remnants of winter - a testament of the cold temperatures that still prevail on this part of Lake Huron. One morning, dressed in our down jackets and huddled around our VHF radio, the weather announcer said, "water temperature 3°C (37°F), air temperature 4°C (39°F)."
This week, Jon and I have been getting accustomed to the sounds of the night. At 3:30 a.m., Jon woke up after hearing some noise just outside of our tent. I could hear it too. To me, it sounded like horses hooves stomping the ground. "What do you think it is, Steph? Could it be a deer?," Jon questioned. Too tired from the previous day to make any sense of the situation, I responded, "It must be wild horses." To this day, any noises we hear outside of the tent, Jon teases - "Must be wild horses!"