When I was young an older boy took me under his canoeing wings, and it was only on rivers, one more than any other. He wasn’t overly concerned with my serious lack of ability, he coached from the stern, I did my best from the bow. He made canoeing so effortless up or downstream. He taught me the jay stroke, how to paddle in harmony so it made traversing easier for each other, not just me, dig, dig, digging away at the water that he would have to correct our path in lieu of my enthusiasm for getting somewhere. I owe him a great thanks.
Then came another fellow, a portager of lakes, oh my goodness, the eyes wide open experience in that if you had the time, I fingered maps with a vengeance, there was no limit to where one could go, and he instilled in me the willingness to canoe solo, how to pack light and tight. The best result was obviously to one haul over a portage, canoe, gear and all. You learn to haul a lot less of the socalled necessities. You portage easier, and faster, something I grabbed onto early.
Now days I certainly don’t go as fast, I still enjoy hitting familiar water as much as the new sky-blue waters I encounter, and I have those two men to thank for it, and many times quietly in my head, I most certainly do.
--The trout whisperer
