Fall travels - part 3 (canoe trip)

About a day and a half after returning from Iceland, I headed out on my second annual Algonquin Park canoe trip. I didn't bother to blog about it last year, since nobody needed to know that I totally fell into the river on my last day, just before emerging from the wilderness. And then arrived home to a locked house, resulting in a successful break-in (not my first, right Marian?).

So this year four guys headed out into the wild, knowing we might never return. We had opted for a small lake with two campsites on it, one extra portage farther out than last year's destination.

Picked up some rental canoes on the way.

And they're off!

Can we canoe this

"Man, this is SO easy!" (Yay for ultralight kevlar canoes.)

Look ma, no hands!

Ugh, break time! Shoulders get killed with a pack that doesn't like a canoe on it.

Official portage garb: crocs!

Made it! (Five portages?) The weather was lovely; we even went swimming.

We banished the snorers to behind a downed tree.

Our fearless head chef. He takes food seriously: steak on day one.

Our fire chief.

Early morning ride.

Day one gave us nice weather. Day two, however, was lousy. After a foggy hour or two in the early morning, it started to rain. And rain some more. And it didn't stop all day. We headed out to explore, and most of us got rather wet.

"We shall blaze a path through yon thicket."

Die-hard fisherguy. Caught nothing, unlike last year (I remember deep-fried awesomeness!)

Tarped kitchen. Our site came with two handy makeshift tables.

Somehow we kept our fire going through the worst downpours.

Our evening reward for the day's sloshing.

A rest and a quick dip.

Day three was nice again, and we had a pleasant enough trip out. It's always a lot of work, but always rewarding. I think next year, since I'll be forty, during the portages the guys will carry me litter-style in a canoe, as befits my station.