August 18 – 22, 2014 French River Delta Canoe Trip
with Randy Sorenson, Glenn Cantello and Daniel Palombo

And so began my trip to theFrench River Delta with my friends Randy, Glenn and Daniel. The water was very calm, the weather warm enough and the rain was a couple of days off in the forecast.

I sat up front in the canoe Randy helmed -- quite ably if truth be told -- I dared not be too free with my compliments on the trip as I think a certain edge is necessary to maintain the fear of God.

Giving up my map to Daniel, I relinquished my right to navigation. All part of my master plan to mellow out as much as possible. I'm sure it wasn't missed that I had no opinion on the rocky outcrop one kilometre downstream. Was it a part of the mainland or a tiny island? And what about that narrow entrance -- did it belie a marsh or a bay? I just stared dreamily at my paddle dipping in and out of the water - or tried to mentally calculate how much filtered water we would need for dinner that night.

At 15 kilometres we stopped for the night in plenty of time to figure out our new-to-us tent and gobble down the new tradional first night slow-thaw salmon, (thank-you Glenn).

No number two for me though, yet.

Day #2

We chose the Olde Voyageurs Route -- more a marketing ploy than a reality we feared -- but we were hooked on trying something other than the weekend warrior figure 8 -- so the tight channelled Voyageurs it was.

Portage #1 -- not really a canoe on the shoulders affair but a half hour of lugging and tugging our bags avoided a three foot drop with a wicked left turn right after. I think we had another "walk over" portage later that day -- the boats were never above Randy or Glenn's heads the whole trip. (I was chief cook and tried to avoid Sherpa duty).

But it wasn't all clear sailing. Try as me might, we couldn't find the entrance to the many-rapids-please-take-the-portage-rather-than-the-Devil's-door-Shortcut area Well -- we found it -- we just didn't believe it so we wandered around for an hour and a half until we came back to the foot and a half change in elevation UP which didn't seem right but it WAS right -- The French surprises.

So we took a chance and dragged the rentals over the rocks that separated us from campsite #802 and a warm supper -- not before scaring off two kayakers who chose the certainty of theWestern Channel over whatever lay beyond this portal.

A rain shower made setting up rather crappy. Randy and I said, "Screw it" and we just ate cold food found at the top of the provision sack. Did I say "Warm Meal?" This, however, was not to be our test. That was waiting at day number three.

The morning was very peaceful paddling among "the Fingerboards" where the French River met Georgian Bay. We didn't know what to expect but the rocks flattened out, the islands multiplied and the lake waves -- they never really materialized. It was here our mid morning snack turned into "Oh God, there's rain coming - better hunker down." It didn't last long and gave us time to plan our next assault -- across the river outlets to Obstacle Island.

Except the recommended campsite was already taken so we smiled awkwardly at the early birds and backed up to site #717. It all looked a little Lord of the Rings with its twisty cedars and rocky face but we settled on our tent placements and fired up the stoves to make dinner.

We laid out early on our thermarests but hadn't gotten much sleep when around 10:00 p.m. the heavens opened the floodgates and the deluge began. Whatever you call it - it rained heavy and long. It wasn't long before we heard a cry from Glenn and Daniel to make room for them in our 4 man tent -- their floorless abode abandoned with four inches of water.

We let them in not really knowing if we were next on Mother Nature's hit list. I'm pleased to tell you that our canvas held! But who could blame us for feeling a little defeated? The clouds were still threatening as we left the scene. We could paddle home or -- well we got a cell signal and the weather report promised only one millimetre of rain in the next 24 hours. So we committed another night to the French, settling on #640 just west of The Elbow, carefully passing Mr. Snapping Turtle guarding the final portage.

The mosquitoes omnipresent never prevented us from indulging in the pleasures of food, swimming and a quiet coffee. The French blessed us with a full double rainbow that day -- perhaps sorry for the drenching she gave us the day before.

We forgave her.