Didn’t even hear a bear

We’re back, and sorry for the radio silence my pets, we arrived back home safe and sound, and I was going to post and tell you all about it, and then bright and early Monday morning, my laptop (perhaps sensing the big plans I had for it) completely bricked. (I use the term bricked here to mean that the thing did a brick imitation, with all the abilities a brick possesses.)  It’s taken several frustrating days, but I’m back up and running, and thanks to what I’ve learned from previous computer incidents, I lost nothing this time. Not so much as an email drifted off into the ether, and although some stuff I needed was trapped inside a dead laptop (I guess, since it’s okay now it was more like it fainted) I’m hooked back up again now, no harm, no foul. Just three days of trying to get things done on an ipad, and really, those things are made more for tracking a knitting chart and surfing Ravelry than they are actually doing work stuff.  Ever tried to do some real typing on an ipad? It’s about as effective as using spoons for knitting needles.  Still, I’m here now, and all that is behind us.

Attached please find several pictures of our wonderful trip, because I know you’re all just dying to see our vacation snaps.  (I have got to get someone working on that sarcasm font that I need so badly.)


We drove up to Algonquin Park and went in through Achray access point, near Petawawa. (That won’t mean much to most of you, but Algonquin Park is huge, more than 7000 square kilometres, so saying that you “went to the park” could mean a lot of different things. It’s big enough that the west and east halves have different animals and climates. This is Canada. We have a lot of room to make parks.)


We packed everything we needed into our canoe – and off we went.


This is backcountry camping. That means you get around by canoe, and you bring in all that you need, including all your food and water. There are no facilities. Nada. This time of year you don’t even really see people.  We had a little stove to camp on – just one burner, and other than that, our cooking was over the fire, and you have to find and chop your own firewood.


We have a great water filter, so we can drink lake water, so at least we don’t have to carry all that in – and we can’t run out, which is really great, and at night your food and garbage go into a bear barrel and a special cooler that doesn’t let any smells out, and you hoist the lot of it up a tree. It’s to keep the bears from finding you interesting – or finding you, really.

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We had a map, and a compass, and we travelled all around the lakes, portaging between them as we went. (Portage is a fancy word that means “carry your stuff and your canoe”.)



It all went very well, with the exception of one extremely rainy night and day, when Joe and I asked ourselves the question that everyone in the backcountry of Algonquin asks themselves at some point, which is “Is the closest Fairmont in Ottawa, or Kingston?”  We almost paddled out that day, but at the last minute, right when we were about to abandon the whole thing, the rain stopped, and we were able to get a fire going, and after that, everything seemed possible again. The backcountry is sort of like an episode of survivor. Fire is life. (Or, at least happiness. I can do almost anything as long as I’m getting whiskey and a fire at the end of it. Almost.)


It was lovely, and everything we own is almost clean again, including us. (I found a pine needle floating in my bath the second day we were home. I wouldn’t have been too bothered about it, except that it was my third bath. I’m hoping it was in my hair.) We’re both back to work – and it’s time to settle into the productive time that is September.

I’ll be in Calgary this weekend (at Pudding Yarn, great shop, and I think there’s a spot or two free in one of the classes yet) and I’ve chosen the yarn for my Rhinebeck sweater.


Blackwater Abbey 2-ply worsted, in Pippin. I thought I’d chosen a pattern, but I’m waffling. Tomorrow. I’ll decide tomorrow.

It’s September. The unofficial start of the year if you’re a wool person, and I’m ready. Let’s go.