A panorama of our first camp.

Mine is the green one which is a 14′ Old Town Osprey. The other canoes were at least 16′ long and it was impressive how much faster they were.

I’m not used to this! The Chesapeake Bay is just about the polar opposite.

Deciding how much we value our lives. I believe this waterfall was called “Mountain Chutes.” I’ve never seen water with such pure power. The roar was deafening. 

And this was the portage around the waterfall. It’s been aptly described as the portage from hell. All I remember is endless trips lugging our equipment and then getting our canoes down this super steep drop with ropes.

We camped here for a whole day. This spot is called “Targie” (46.28717457480708, -77.08213380422377) and we nearly destroyed a canoe. We would do runs through the rapids and then portage back up the other side. Well one canoe turned over and got pinned against a rock. After some debate we eventually decided a chain of 4-5 guys locking hands could get to it. We had a quick prayer and just as we started it popped loose and took off down the river swamped.

It’s amazing how good food tastes when you’re half starved. I think we caught one fish between us the entire trip.

A log jam upstream of a bridge.

Some cool looking roots at our last camp.

Me and Jason were always bringing up the rear. Partially due to my canoe’s waterline length but also because I’d paralyzed my left shoulder about 8 months before in a dirt bike wreck. I could only paddle on starboard side and had to let the paddle scrape down the side of the canoe. Thankfully a lot of it has come back and other muscles have adapted and taken on extra jobs.

The end of the line, 60 miles downstream.