To touch the stars

There was something magical about canoeing in the wilderness. My late husband and I would plan a route, typically in Algonquin Park, that started with a very long 2-5km portage into the next system of lakes. We did this to avoid the crowds, to avoid those who brought radios, or cases of beer , as we loved to see the pristine beauty of the lakes that were rarely canoed.

As we launched our loaded canoe from the dock, there was a very satisfying feeling that we had left everything behind and our world was now our packs, a canoe and our food supply. We had a very light canoe and beautiful cherrywood paddles. Our packs were tied into the boat. There were many long periods of silence where the only sound was the paddles dipping into the water and being silently pulled back. We passed by logs covered with moss and a small plant called a sundew whose little tentacles, dipped in a sticky substance would trap flys. I cheered the sundews! Occasionally a beautiful dragonfly would alight on my paddle. Dragonflies eat mosquitos, so again, I cheered.

We would often see moose. They would raise their heads and water would drip from their antlers. They stared for a moment and then dunked their head back into the water to resume eating. Many times, we had otters follow us. They would circle the bow of the boat, where I was and raise themselves chest high out of the water and snort. They would follow us, their streamlined body would make it appear they were flying under the water.

Once we arrived at our first long portage, Cyril would head out before me. While Cyril was walking, he would often find dry tinder and birch park to assist him in making fires. His pack, with his little dry stash is still in my basement to this day. I carried the canoe and the heavier pack, It is very hot carrying a canoe and I had to wear mosquito netting over my face to avoid getting bitten many times over. Finally, at the end of the trail, I would see Cyril who had made a small fire and had his kettle boiling water for tea. It was always the best tasting tea.

We would load the boat and canoe for few more hours till we reached our campsite. The campsites were typically on rocky points, with a firepit. The places for the tents were set back and sheltered. It was my first task to set up the tent and sleeping bags. Cyril would start to gather wood and make a fire. We would sit on the ground or on a log and watch as the flames came to life, in our fire. We would place a grill on it, and I would start to make supper. The grill was a small titanium grill, still in Cyril's pack!

After supper, we would watch as the sun began to set. There was a tremendous silence and as night fell we could see against the jet black sky a blaze of white.! The milky way. There was the occasional loon with its mournful call, but, for a little while, we were wrapped in beautiful and peaceful silence. We kept the fire burning as the smoke was a deterrent to mosquitos. We would recount all the beauty we had seen that day, and the photos we took (film camera), and the sketches I had made in my sketch book. We spoke of many things. Cyril was a botanist, a naturalist, an experimental physicist, and a lover of CS Lewis. He was also a man of deep faith and well versed in Scripture. We would read sections of the New Testament (It was smaller and lighter to carry)!

There was something beautiful about our canoe trips. It was because we were no longer connected to 'civilization'. We had left it behind and were in the realm of what Canada was, and still is, a land of lakes, forests, and wildlife. We experienced thunderstorms while camping near a canyon, and the echoes of thunder roared and it felt as if the very rocks would crash as a result of the mighty voice of thunder. I think now of God's voice that breaks the cedars of Lebanon! We had entered a still and silent world, where the beavers would swim across the lakes, the moose would graze and the stars, unencumbered by our city lights would shine forth in glory for all to see.

In many ways, our canoe trips were like retreats. In a world that deafens itself with shouts and cries and pain, in a world where silence is viewed with suspicion, such a retreat like canoeing is essential. Indeed on our trips, we touched the stars!