In the sensory world of canoe trips, there’s a silence only paddlers might understand. The deep, dark, and frozen winter. It’s a stillness that exists on the most windless night, when the mercury struggles to fall any further and the tree’s pop with a shocking crack at winter’s burden. Yet winter is still far away, albeit not by much, and what separates us from those frozen lakes is the most glorious time of the year. It’s the season of our last paddling hurrahs shrouded in bug-less nights and changing leaves, when friends can sit around the fire laughing about the season passed, portages carried, those fish that broke the line and swamps that were deeper than our hip.
The article was originally published on Canoe & Kayak
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