Little Rouge Creek

I fell asleep last night to a familiar feeling: my body swaying as if aboard a boat. It happens every year. I get on the water for the first time – be it rowing an 8-woman shell on the Charles, a sail boat on the Boston Harbor, a kayak on Georgian Bay, or a canoe in Woodland Caribou Provincial Park – and I become one with the boat.

Yesterday’s one-with-boat experience came courtesy of my friend David’s (The Passionate Paddler) Esquif Mistral (*sniff* long live, Esquif). So how is it, you ask, that I ended up paddling on Easter Sunday in between the snowflakes? It started with this e-mail: + Read More