When Canoe Trip = Awesome - DIBBLE LAKE - Day Thirty Seven

We only have one month left in our Path of the Paddle adventure now! So we decided to share with you some of the little moments that make trip so great. They aren't the events that are memorable or dramatic to tell people about - they are just our day to day joys on the trail.

Taking wet socks off. When you've been trudging through swamps or lakes or rapids all day and your feet have been stuck in wet socks and wet shoes as you hop in and out of the boat and you're feet are tired and soggy and wrinkly. And then you finally get to the campsite and peel back the layers exposing your feet to the air so they can breath and dry. Nothing quite like it.

Campsites by waterfalls. Watching the way water dances and splashes over the rocks as it cascades down. Mesmerized by the quantity of water continuously flowing over the edge. Standing and feeling the mist blow off the bottom to cool you. Falling asleep to the quiet rumble of the never ending dropping stream. Serene. Nothing quite like it.

How every single thing is delicious. Sure some powdered eggs look gross. And scrambling up bran muffins and burning them doesn't look too appetizing. Living on things that were dried who knows when might not sound too appealing. But after a hard, long day there is nothing in the world that could taste better. This result cannot be recreated with the same ingredients in the city. Nothing quite like it.

The perfect handful of gorp. Having that right ratio of nuts to seeds to chocolate to other treats. Or perhaps just the chocolate. When you reach in and blindly pull out exactly what you desire. Nothing quite like it.

Dropping a pack at the end of a portage. Every step was labour. Your back hurt, your neck cramped, your feet were stiff. Around every bend and over every hill you expected to see the lake at last. Breathing heavy and sweating everywhere and swarmed by bugs you trudged along. Now at the end you practically run for the lake and collapse letting the weight drop from your back. Relief. Pure bliss. Nothing quite like it.

Glassy water. When you wake up and it's quiet and you poke your head out of the tent and feel no breeze. The water doesn't have a single ripple. It is a perfect mirror and you look out at a duplicated upside down landscape. Nothing quiet like it.

Picking fresh fruit. Finding that blueberry bush at the campsite to help spruce up the breakfast. Picking a wild strawberry to keep you going on a portage. Pulling up to shore for lunch and seeing a whole patch of raspberries growing. Nothing quite like it.

Getting around a corner to escape a headwind. Battling against the waves, wind blowing your hats off and your hair about. Moving like a snail toward the point. Rocking about but hardly making progress. Then one small turn and you glide into the flat, sheltered, protected bay. Ahhhhhhh. Nothing quite like it.

Killing the last mosquito in the tent.

They have been buzzing all day. In your ears, around your neck, hiding out to attack when you're vulnerable with a canoe on your back. They have been relentless. As dusk falls they begin to swarm, coming in clouds to taunt you as you try to hurry through your dishes. In your final moments before entering the tent they are ruthless and no matter how much you slap, there are another hundred a second later. You zip the tent and leap in as fast as humanly possible. And then once you've scoured every last inch of the tent you collapse. Safe at last. Nothing quite like it.

A golden marshmallow. You roasted the side of your face reaching in to get that perfect ember spot. You're excessively hot from standing so close to the hot fire on the hot summer day. Everyone else has already eaten a few. But then you see at the end of your stick an absolutely perfect, uniformly golden piece of art. Nothing quite like it.

The perfect tent spot. It's been a long day and all you want is a place to curl up and sleep. Even though the campsite is small you find this little nook the exact size of your tent that is perfectly flat, not at all slanted, no rocks, no roots. Just a quaint little square of dirt and grass. Nothing quite like it.

A hard earned watch tan. The whitest patch ever surrounded by hardcore tan where the sun screen wouldn't reach. Nothing quite like it.

Catching a fish on the first cast. You're about to set out for a day on the water but the rod is sitting right there and you have a spare moment. You swing the rod and the lure soars through the air before dropping with a splash into the lake. You begin to reel in and after a turn or two you feel a tug. A fish is hooked. On attempt number one. Nothing quite like it.

The ideal skipping stone. Perfectly rounded. Smooth. Flat. Full of water hopping potential. Nothing quite like it.

Rain on the tent. You finished a day outside and have finally crawled into the tent for the night. You're curled up in your sleeping bag and it begins to pitter patter on the tent. You smile that you're inside not out and that you don't have to move anytime soon. A glorious lullaby to fall asleep too. Nothing quite like it.