The Perfect Funeral

A few days ago I ran across this article entitled "When I Die, Scatter My Ashes On A Naked Lady". It is well written and speaks to my own desires. In fact, I am off to my lawyer to have my will changed. Check out the article by clicking HERE.

The French River Canoe Trip

On Tuesday, Mr. B and I embarked on a three day canoe trip to the semi-wilds of the French River. Although hardly remote, the French River lays claim to the Massassagua Rattler, the only venomous snake in Canada, and some of the most rugged and beautiful shorelines in Ontario.

Day #1 saw us arriving at the campsite in time for Mr. B to begin work on his inuksuk. A little education here; since his work is in the shape of a man the structure he built would more properly named an inunguak.

Regardless, with the inuksuit (plural of inuksuk - can you tell school is starting in a few days) overlooking our site it was time to delve into the liquid refreshments of which there was copious quantities. Unlike any other canoe trip in my past, we had the inspiration to buy a bag of ice for the first day. The result - a mug full of quality scotch nestled among ice cubes while lounging by a fire on a rock jutting out into the river. Can life get any better?
























The next day we set off early with instructions to look for the portage by the 'old boiler'. To me this 'old boiler' looks more like a time machine gone wrong.

Despite getting lost for about an hour on a rather simple portage, with Mr. B at the helm we finally got to the lower French River and popped out onto Georgian Bay for a simple 2 km paddle eastward along the northern shore to the entrance of the Eastern French River. From here we were headed North with a vicious wind that never let up for a second.




The next portage was rather simple given that someone had the foresight to provide canoeists with a hand pulled, bed frame, cart type thingy! There is no better description of this vehicle than thingy.

Boys will be boys!















The third portage of the day - and I might add here not one which we had planned - was through a bloody swamp in which poor HouseboatBob had to get out and pull the canoe through while in his barefeet. Where was Mr. B. you might ask?

Well I first had to pull his sorry ass to the nearest rock so that he could get out and meet me at the other end without getting his precious little toes wet! We finally arrived at out campsite around 5:30 pm and were completely worn out.

That night the balance of the liquid refreshments were consumed in an effort to ward off the pain of paddling for more than 6 hours on this second day. The next morning we were off like a bolt of lightning and I leave this tale with pictures of the rugged beauty of the French River.