This morning before leaving for work in Kingston, Ontario, I removed my kayak from my living room (where I’d placed it last night for easy access – don’t ask) and tied it onto the world’s smallest car, a 3-cylinder Chevrolet Sprint. I normally just shove the kayak into the hatchback but this time I would be needing the extra room. This was the first time I had strapped my craft to the roof. I also placed my mountain bike on the rear rack then I proceeded to enter my car. The doors wouldn’t open. I was puzzled until I realized I had made the beginners mistake of tying the doors shut. I was running out of time so I simply crawled through the window. If I was superstitious I would have blamed it on today’s date. I stopped at Linda’s and emerged from my window much to her neighbour’s amusement, then unloaded everything into her garage as I didn’t want someone stealing it all from my parking spot during the day.

 Scene missing: Work was over. I had barely survived another day of being pelted by elastics from my workmates. Why they pick on me, I’ll never know? I raced to Linda’s and we loaded both kayaks and mountain bikes in the rain. The proper placing of the knots did cause some consternation which had the effect of making me tap on my tooth with my index finger (something I do when I’m deep in thought) but it actually went quite well and took less than 40 minutes which wasn’t bad for a first time.

It was an uneventful ride up to Ontario’s Bon Echo Park. We stopped twice for drinks. I starved all the way. Linda had thoughtfully made me supper…but packed it in the cooler behind all our equipment – so near and yet so far. 

At the park we were whisked through the gate as we had already reserved our site. The cost was a hefty \$24.25 each for the weekend!! I had thought we were just renting, not buying!! By 8:30 we were at site #218 and beginning to prepare it as our homestead.

Where some women get all keyed up about a new dress, Linda had bought a new tarp and was bubbling over with excitement and anxious to put it up…it was all she could talk about. After I finished wrestling with the tent, Linda reluctantly allowed me to help with her tarp. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to be allowed to touch it! It was a short-lived ecstasy. “Handle it by the rope!! She yelled, “I don’t want your fingerprints all over it!!” She wanted one end tied to a tree about 3 feet higher than I could reach so ingeniously, I drove the car(cass) beside the tree. I took off one shoe so as not to damage what was left of the auto and stood precariously on the fender. The rain was pouring down and it was dark. I’m balancing on one wet foot and my hands are numb with the cold. I’m in excruciating pain from the nose of one kayak which is poking me in the ribs and I’m stretching to my limit trying to place the rope around a smooth pole-like tree in the exact spot Linda has specified.

“Man, I’ve never seen anyone tie a knot so slow. Haven’t you ever put up a tarp before? Hurry up, I’ve got better things to do than watch you fumble around in a tree!!” yelled Linda from below. I brushed a wet leaf off my glasses nearly losing my balance thinking silently to myself, “Just wait until we get married and I change my name to Mr. David Tucker – then we’ll see who puts the tarps up in the family.”

Eventually I thought it looked pretty good. We drove off in search of firewood. Apparently you have to buy it! We purchased two bags of sticks for \$5.00 each. For all we got, it might have just been easier to throw a $10.00 bill in the fire pit and burn it. Once we had the fire going, Linda finally allowed me to eat the salmon pitas she had prepared. They almost made up for the tarp tying episode. After an evening of sitting around the fire we retired to the tent.

We were in what was known as the “radio free zone”. What we weren’t told however, was that this was where they held the annual Baby Jamboree. We got the stereo effect from three wailing kids that never let up. Several hours later, I woke up to see Linda exiting the tent. I watched her drag the picnic table over to the tree where I had tied the tarp. She stood on it, undid my knot and replaced it with one of her own. I thought it wise to pretend to be asleep when she returned.

Saturday July 14, 2001

Got up. Linda covered the picnic table with an elaborate, flower-patterned,  satin tablecloth then made a pot of special green tea. She got out a loaf of rare sunflower seed bread, then spread on a pre-made mixture of something healthy with lentils, soya milk  and bergenstocks from which she took the occasional dainty little bite. Me, I inhaled a chocolate poptart, chugged some water and was ready to go.

We decided to start the day biking. As we toured through the campsites I spotted someone working with clay. “Have you ever made any pottery” I asked foolishly forgetting that Linda has done everything and been everywhere. Irritated, she replied, “Don’t you remember anything…I told you I taught pottery making back in 1984 – er, no, I guess it was ’83 because that was the year I biked through Yugoslavia. Wait, that can’t be right because I was training for swimming marathons that year. Now I remember, it was ’85 as I’d just completed my scuba course and was…” I tuned out of the conversation and admired the scenery. We biked about 30k all over including Joeperry Lake where we paused for something to eat. I gave Linda a chocolate bar. She spent 20 minutes analyzing the ingredients on the cover before she gave it back to me in disgust. She pulled out an apple and spent some time polishing it to a high sheen then nibbled on it. On the way back, Linda spotted some raspberry bushes alongside the road. She washed hers with her water bottle as she continued, “These remind me of the time I hiked the Cabot Trail – I didn’t really have time to fit it in, but I felt I should since after all, I was on the Board of Directors. It rained the whole trip but it still wasn’t as bad as when I trekked by camel across Newfoundland…”

I impressed Linda with one of my wheelies. She nearly fell off her bike laughing, saying “You look like a an old man in a six year old’s body.” My confidence soared with those kind words of encouragement. I haven’t done one since.

Linda experienced some problems with her bike gears. Using my careful mechanical genius, which she unflatteringly referred to as “poking around”, I was able to solve the problem and save the day.

We toured the park gift shop and the old lodge museum which was quite interesting, then biked down to the beach and caught some rays. I checked out my tan by twirling my hand from front to back.

“Now what are you doing?” asked Linda with a slight, scowling Elvis Presley lip. I explained how I enjoyed seeing the contrast in tones between the tanned and untanned skin.

“Oh, oh, oh,” said Linda mimicking my actions, “I just looove to see the contrast in skin tones…it reminds me of the summer I spent on the Riviera…”.

Sometimes I feel I am being mocked.

Finally, we returned to our campsite where I tuned back in to the end of this morning’s  conversation to hear “…and that’s how I ended up shooting skeet on the Australian Olympic team.”

During supper, a discussion followed on diet.

“I think you’re anorexic” said Linda.

“Not true” I replied, “although I did once have the flesh eating disease…but it gave up and died of malnutrition. I’m just fat free and protein challenged – now pass the water, stop stressing me out and let me eat my butterscotch lifesaver in peace.”

Actually, Linda made us a really nice pasta dish with cheese, tomatoes, green peppers and seven different herbs and spices all laid out on her satin tablecloth with fine cutlery and topped with two stemware glasses of Bordelini wine. My contribution was two tubs of butterscotch pudding with plastic spoons.

I fought with one of our bags of wood trying to get it open. As I struggled with the drawstring, my hand slipped off and I punched Linda in the stomach. She glared at me from her doubled over position. I was worried enough that she gave me the dreaded “fish caress.” For those of you unfamiliar with this interesting ritual, it’s when someone takes their fingertips and gently pats them on your arm five times, much like the dying flapping of a fish’s tail, followed by a look that says “you poor fool.” Now I was really worried. 

We tossed our remaining wood in the pit and sat around our bon(echo)fire drinking wine until the baby witching hour. Tonight it was the theme from Deliverance – “Dueling Babies”.

“Waah waah waah, waah wahhhhh”

“Waah waah waah, waah wahhhhh”

By now, Linda and I were devising child roasting spits. After a timelessness of wailing, I heard a fatherly voice finally call out, “What’s wrong Melissa”. Melissa seemed to stop for a while. Perhaps he’d discovered that her hand had been slammed in the car door for the last three hours or some such thing. 

Before falling asleep we discussed our plans for tomorrow.

“What do you want to do?” I asked.

“Hmm…let me think” said Linda thoughtfully tapping her tooth with an index finger. Then she broke into peals of laughter and we never did finish the discussion. I think she may have been mocking me again.

Sunday July 15, 2001

We got up and went through our usual rituals. Check out was 2:00 pm so we decided to pack everything up in advance. We drove to the parking lot. Linda thought I was being ridiculous when I brought out my rusted 20 lb, 35’ destroyer anchor chain to lock the bikes to the car. “You’re not putting that chain on my bike”, she said affably.

“No…I’d planned for you to wear it kayaking” I mumbled silently to myself.

I wanted to swim the 60 feet across the channel but noooo…Linda wanted to be able to wear shoes because of the sharp rocks and she wanted to wear clothes while she was hiking and take food and something to drink etc. etc., so I finally submitted to her outlandish demands and we paid the outrageous \$3 each to take the “Mugwump Ferry” across to Bon Echo rock. Linda was very disappointed to discover that the entire hike was only 1.5 k, pouting, “I thought this was a hike, not a stroll to get the mail.” Regardless, the view was excellent. Back at the dock we were required to flap our arms until we caught the eye of the ferry boat captain across the lake. He motored over and retrieved us.

PERFECT VIEW

We returned to the car to unload the kayaks. I got inside and punched my crushed roof back into shape then we carted the boats to the beach. We followed the shoreline around and through the channel then cut across the lake to Bon Echo rock. Linda seemed a little nervous since the last time she had been in her kayak was in the spring when she tipped over in whitewater. She went backwards and upside down through a long chute, hitting her head on rocks all the way. Then she couldn’t get out as her leg brace had jammed inside so she had remained trapped underwater. It was all quite amusing looking back on it…but those were happier times. 

As we crossed the white-capped lake, I tried to boost her confidence by relating stories of the Mazinaw Monster – a legendary 700 lb sturgeon with sharp kayak-eating teeth...it  was at this point in my story where I got hit in the back of the neck with a paddle – and that was no fish caress either. Linda insisted it was an accident but I have some lingering doubts along with a stiffness whenever I look to the left.

ROCK FACE

INDIAN PETROGLYPHS

We floated at the base of the gigantic cliffs viewing the faded red-coloured Indian petroglyphs. I could picture the Indians in their war canoes paddling by, dropping off the kids with some red crayons to bide the time while the rest of the party went hunting. Their timeless, parting calls still haunt the rock walls, “…don’t tease your sister and stay within the lines, we’ll be back soon with some squirrel for supper.” 

We paddled over to yesterdays beach and went for a swim. The water was quite cold. “Will you get away from me and let me swim in peace – you’re always right beside me just like a leech.”

“I am not”, I pouted as I disentangled myself from her arm, swallowed some blood and floated away.

Back at the beach we laid in the sun on our kayak skirts. Linda twirled her hands checking for skin tones.

A young couple canoed in next to us and began playing volleyball. The guy accidentally hit his girlfriend with the ball. He looked worried. She went over to him and gave him “the fish caress” and he seemed relieved. I wanted to warn him, but there are some things you just have to find out on your own. I didn’t want to be him when he turned his back. A canoe paddle is much heavier than a kayak paddle. My neck hurt just thinking about it.

We balanced back into our crafts and made our way back to the car. Loading the kayaks did not go as well as on our initial attempt. The ropes and kayaks wouldn’t cooperate. It took us nearly 15 minutes longer. Linda was not amused. She began citing everything from inferior ropes to humidity. The longer we took, the more blame seemed to fall on me. Some of the accusations were absurd, like “You’re not even trying – you don’t want to leave here” or, “If you hadn’t parked on slanted ground we’d be done by now.” It had been the only spot available. Thoughtlessly, I had not rented a bulldozer to level and pave our work area. Even more ridiculous, I was accused of not being good with knots. Eventually, the ropes were tightened to their limit, crushing my car roof so that it bowed inwards again.

“Apparently someone gets grumpy when they’re kept awake all night by wailing babies and then forced to hike, bike, swim and paddle the following day.”

“I do not”, I said in irritation.

Within an hour, we were on speaking terms again. We had an uneventful ride back stopping at a little stand where Linda had french fries for the second time in her life. Back at Linda’s, we unloaded her gear. Somehow she got my finger caught in her bike spokes. It was quite painful. She looked worried. I gave her “the fish caress” and headed home.