The Bridge

Marty and I bought a canoe.  A canoe, a strange and wonderful thing which, with a little steam, allows us to travel short or long distances in silent contemplation.

I have to admit it was Marty's idea. I have never been much for canoeing.  For me, until now, it was a cottage sport. One I engaged in happily enough but if it were missing, I would contemplate the water from a different vantage point.

Still...

So, we have a canoe. Living in the City, I didn't think we would use it much. I guess twice, once last week at Jordan Harbour and once this week in the Credit River, isn't really much but I'll tell you what happened because of the canoe.

Our house in Mississauga is close to Lakeshore. When we decided to canoe, we looked for a place nearby and found that just 10 minutes away from the place I have lived much of my life there is a canoe club.

When we got our 50lb green machine harnessed onto the roof of the trusty silver Honda, we took off. Within the half hour we were pushing from shore. At first, there was a lot of noise from a park across the river, the Boat Club downstream and the GO train making it's way from Toronto. As we paddled on, however, wild greenery overtook the manicured lawns and bird chatter overtook the human voices.

I wouldn't say it was silent... there were a few others using the water... but it was quiet.

Still...

Not long into our trip, we approached a bridge which I recognized as Dundas Street crossing over the Credit River.

I told Marty, "I have always crossed that bridge and looked down at the people paddling in the water, today we are the people in the water."

As we paddled on I realized that I will never cross that Dundas Street bridge again without knowing what it feels like to glide underneath it while nature teems around me. Next time I will know there are willow trees down there arching over the water, their leaves gently skimming it's surface. I will remember the strength of the current, the small family of red-breasted Mergansers. I will remember the warmth of the water rushing around my legs while small pebbles press against the bottom of my shoes where the water shallowed and we had to disembark and lift our boat to turn her back.  I will remember the strength of the current, the small family of red-breasted Mergansers.

As we settled the canoe back atop the car and pulled away from the club Marty asked, "Do you ever think you will take the canoe out for a run by yourself?"

A month ago, when he was avidly searching, my immediate answer would have been NO! - yes, emphatically so.

On this day I had to say "Not now. Perhaps when I get better at steering, more confident that I can... perhaps then I will."

I don't know when that will be. Not sure how long it will take but I know that in the meantime I will enjoy the learning and the very different view it gives me of our world.