Reflections so far

It's amazing the impact a trip like this has on you. I am still getting recurring dreams from our night at the emergency shelter at Chin beach, which we shared with the Chin beach rats and a cougar (scratching at the walls and growling outside). At the time we thought it was paradise on earth, but on reflection it truly was rather awful! We spent much of the night chasing the rats off our rucksacks and trying to keep the wildlife outside at bay. In my dreams I wake up sweltering with my sleeping bag pulled firmly under my chin... Like that would keep them out!

The Hilton at Chin Beach

A half stable door the only thing that lay between us and a cougar :)

My bed in rat alley with all mod cons (a washing line)

The best impact has been discovering a love of paddling! I had thought my favourite activity would have been trekking, but canoeing is infinitely better! I am amazed I have not discovered this before, but there is something rather alluring to paddling in the wilderness and being totally free from modern distractions.

 Plans are in the pipeline already to continue with open canoeing back in the UK - (Update: Rivers Spey and Tay have since been explored when I participated on a expedition with the KMC students in April 2015).

The Song of the Paddle is a well known book amongst open canoeists. It is written by Bill Mason and is subtitled “An Illustrated Guide to Wilderness Camping”. So although it is a book about open canoeing it is also about the exploring of wild places in your canoe.

Our campsite on Issac lake (my favourite)- an evening in front of the fire

In the UK our wild places are fewer and less wild than Bill had in Canada but even here, when out in your open canoe you can get to feel more at one with nature and escape from the ties of modern life. This is as true with a few snatched hours on the local lake or loch as it is on a multi-day camping adventure.

“Odysseus ordered his men to plug their ears when they sailed by the island of the Sirens so they would not be lured to their destruction on the offshore rocks by the sea nymphs' irresistible song. In order to hear the song, Odysseus asked his men to lash him to the mast. I know all about this sort of thing because I hear a song like that of the Sirens every spring when the ice on the rivers begins to break up.

Years ago in the heart of Winnipeg, Manitoba, I would be working at my desk in a commercial art studio, hear the song, hand in my two weeks' notice and get my outfit ready. My parents thought I would outgrow it but I never did. If anything, the song is becoming louder and more insistent with the passing years. Some people hear the song in the quiet mist of a cold morning; others hear it in the middle of a roaring rapids. Sometimes the excitement drowns out the song. The thrills become all that matter as we seek one rapid after another. Sleeping, eating and living outdoors become something we do between rapids. But for other people the song is loudest in the evening when they are sitting in front of the tent, basking in the camp fire's warmth. This is when I hear it loudest, after I have paddled and portaged for many miles to some distant, hidden place."  Bill Mason

Our view from outside Wendle cabin, doesn't get much better than that!