STAR FILLED WATERS

Sometime back in the 1970s, I can't remember exactly, we purchased a canoe. We, my wife and I, were novice to canoeing so we purchased what we thought was a stable canoe, one that wouldn't tip over. We purchased a Sports Pal, a 12 foot canoe with floatation pads on both sides. It was not only impossible to upset, it was extremely difficult to paddle being constructed of a light aluminum material that the wind, all too often, took advantage and pushed us in every direction other than the direction we wished to go. A couple of years later we decided that it was time to get a "real" canoe. The Sports Pal had become a bit of an embarrassment, the subject of amusement for those paddling more streamline, fibreglass canoes. We stepped up to a 15 foot Scott fibreglass canoe and paddled shakily down the lake. In time we learned how to properly handle just about any  canoe, in just about every kind of weather.  We stepped up once more purchasing  a 16 foot Scott Kevlar canoe. This was to be our last canoe. With my health not the greatest, and canoeing thought to be a bit stressful, it was decided in 2007 to retire from the sport. I mean who wants to go down with the canoe way out in some remote lake, eh? We'd had our day. We'd paddled many, many miles, and had enjoyed many experiences on many lakes and rivers. Still it was a sad day when we helped the new owner of our canoe strap it to the roof of his car. Even now, each time that we get up to Algonquin and watch as canoists launch from the outfitters, I get this feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, then I shake my head and realize that all good things must end....one day. Thankfully, we have the memories, wonderful memories of days out on the water on some wilderness lake, with the wind in our face, and a loon off the bow.

Star Filled Waters

When I was somewhere between young and old,

late at night or early morning,

I’d launch my canoe on a northern lake,

and paddle on star filled waters.

I’d paddle solo in the darkness

to places unfamiliar,

and with the twilight,

I’d paddle home.

Now,

somewhere between old and older,

late at night or early morning,

I launch my canoe on northern lakes,

and paddle on star filled waters.

I paddle solo in the darkness,

and visit unfamiliar places.

And with the dawn I paddle on,

to places I’ve never seen,

with waters crystal clear,

and wind bent pines, that

cling

to rocky shores.

I linger in these places,

and hope to stay awhile,

but with the sun’s rising,

I know it’s not my time.

With the sun on my back,

and the wind in my face,

I turn my canoe,

and slowly paddle home.

I promise to return one day,

to this land of wind bent pines,

and crystal waters,

to paddle further down the lake

on star filled waters.

EAS

STILL WATERS

On a northern lake,

the twilight’s quiet is broken

by the haunting cry

of a Common loon.

Our canoe floats,

between sky and water

in the twilight’s reflection.

Paddling silently,

we drift,

anticipating.

The loon surfaces at our bow,

aware,

undisturbed.

Its reflection

fills the ripples of its forward motion.

It dips its head,

dives,

and disappears

in the dark,

deep,

still waters.