Well, it’s been so long since I’ve added a new gallery to my portfolio that it took me about four hours to figure it out and upload 25 shots. Sure brought back lots of memories. If you’re interested, go here and scroll down to the last gallery where you’ll find an oddball assortment of photos related to my love for canoeing. The above photo is not in the gallery but it was taken at Birchdale end of September. Paddling into the sunrise there always other-wordly, as is paddling my moonlight. On the last women’s paddling retreat, we paddled up First Carrying Lake by the light of a full moon. It was mystical.
By the way, here’s a snippet from the essay I mentioned in my earlier post:
“I own four canoes: Cleo, Clementine, Willard Hewey and Stupid Canoe. They each have their own peculiarities, stubbornness and foibles—as do I. We’ve been on some mighty trips together … ”
Over the years, there have also been some changes. Willard Hewey (built by the man of the same name who was very famous in these parts for his canoe-making skills) was covered in canvas and painted dark green. Eventually, the canvas deteriorated to the point that it had to be replaced.
Barrie stripped the canoe down one winter, and WH hung naked in the car port for three years until this summer, when we took him to Wedgeport Boats Ltd. and had him fiber-glassed. Barrie then painted him bright red. Although Willard Hewey now weighs 80 pounds–compared to Clementine who weight 56 pounds–WH still moves like a snake on the water.
Someday I should write an Ode to each one of them, although “Ode to Stupid Canoe” doesn’t sound quite right. Well, that canoe isn’t quite right either. Poor thing. Had a big hole in the bottom of both her bow and stern and for the longest time we had her patched with duct tape. Although I grump about her, I actually cared enough to lug her to Weymouth and fork out the $$$ to have her fixed. Maybe she just needs a more dignified name. Something like Saint Cerise of the Tusket. Why–she might take on a whole new persona!