And Then There Were None
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And Then There Were None

And Then There Were None

May 14, 2022
For the first time since leaving Steveston six weeks ago, there are no mountains looking over the bow of the canoe. It happened suddenly, if there is such a thing when travelling at a snail’s pace.

 

However, the river, or rather the gradient,  didn’t change much. After labouring up and over Big Horn Dam, bouncing down the rapids was a joy. Every bend offered something to entertain and engage. With water levels low, sections better lined were easily run and scouting consisting of standing up in the canoe midstream.

 

Rocky Mountain House seemed an easy two days away and some of the pressure associated with my immediate deadlines lifted.

 

Rocky Mountain House. How easy it was to imagine a canoe brigade hurrying down the river to a warm welcome at home. Family and friends, familiar faces and eager children all running to the river banks at the sound of musket fire announcing an arrival. Imagine, if you can, what it must have been like to arrive home after being in the bush for six, nine , or more months.

 

Rocky Mountain House. Easy to imagine. Hard to believe.