Image © Reid McLachlan

But canoeing is in my blood. I have found that it is not a separate entity in my life but part of my psyche and personal make up. My Dad, by example, showed me that this balance was possible. He was always so busy and active, working and going non-stop for months at a time. Nevertheless, he recognised that he really needed the quiet solitude of a wilderness journey to nourish his soul and rekindle his spirit.

As far back as I can remember, I have been spending a part of my summer canoeing and camping in the wilderness. These have been memorable and rewarding trips but equally important for me is the hour or two of paddling I can squeeze into the middle of a busy week. I like to jump in my canoe and head out with no real destination or purpose, just letting the wind and my whims lead me where they may. Upon returning to my desk and slogging through the pile of stuff that needs attending I enjoy thinking of the adventures I will be able to continue on my next paddle.

It's fun to fantasize about paddling. To imagine exploring further that tiny trickle of a headwater, that slowly builds and turns into a lively river with rapids I dance in, and chutes and falls I portage around, and mirror-like pools I spin and play upon. However, nothing can substitute for the real thing. So I do get out there. And when I do, that feeling of being at one with the land and water and air slowly surrounds and envelops me, it feels very calming and Zen like. And I know that in my dreams and in my life I will eagerly continue on, going just a little further down that creek to see what is there and what new wonders the wilderness will have to teach me.