Where Rubber Meets the Road Meet Karta, my trusty two wheel steed. This contraption is what I’m using to pull/drag/yank the canoe behind me as I walk most of the roughly 600km of portaging I must do. I’ve made some modifications to the thing to support the...
EOL SOL NLOL The view from the embankment says it all. End of the line, s*** out of luck, and not laughing out loud. I tried four times to get through or around this brush pile. Each time I ended up entangled just enough to stop progress...
Making Tracks In canoe-speak, tracking isn’t exactly what springs to mind if one is indeed making tracks. Tracking implies waking upstream dragging the canoe behind. Dragging being the operative word. I am reduced to ping-ponging between river banks as the current is generally to strong to paddle...
Window Seat Table The view from my table at the Paddle Inn. I needed a break and some fuel for one last push before thinking about a place to spend the night. Hard to ask for anything more. Well, I suppose since we’re asking: Less current, less...
1 In 20 I had counted on being weather bound something like 1 day in 20. Being an optimist had me assuming that 1 day in 20 would after 19 good days. Winds gusting to 67 kmh in the river kept pinned down at Mission Bridge and...
What's Changed Barely 25 miles out of Vancouver and the view from the river’s edge has not changed for centuries. Here is what Fraser, Quesnel, and Stuart would have seen returning from their very brief stint at what is now Pt. Grey. More to the point, this...
Passages At just over 3 km per hour, it takes more than a while to get under something you first spied hours ago. To put it mildly, there’s lots of time to think about it. Ahead of me here is the last vestige of Greater Vancouver. Getting...
Truer Things Minus the tiny wood burning stove, this is the sum total of my kitchen. Plus spice rack. Heaven forbid one were to leave home without a spice or rack. It’s it much to look at, but truer things have not been said than the joy...
And So It Begins Looming over the bow of the canoe to the east, I cannot feel but chock full of contradictions. A very small boat needing to go a very large distance. A tiny patch of open water separating me from a continent. A single...