tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53039055349180998502024-03-14T11:39:38.095-04:00All about WhitewaterRead About:
Money and The Kipawa River, Whitewater Ontario,Les amis de la rivière Kipawa,The Proposed Tabaret River diversion project,
Northern Ontario Liquid Adventurers,Canadian Rivers Network
The viewpoints and opinions expressed here are those of the author and are not necessarily those of Whitewater Ontario or Les Amis de la Riviere Kipawa. Those groups did not vet these comments and would not likely endorse the views expressed here or the manner in which they have been expressed.Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.comBlogger628125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-79044090714398496552023-10-07T18:02:00.003-04:002023-10-07T18:03:03.068-04:00Rosanne Gilks - Artist<div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv x1qq9wsj xo1l8bm" href="https://www.facebook.com/rosanne.gilks?__cft__[0]=AZU2X8ZIatEY2dQyR9lWuF8xJ-gEx5PqKJsLAoicrTNoxYICc8D-casKJh8mvttgdbPcElnewIB_gJAqxOXuIKxCR_mpT_-0Z6A_sa9Lp-Zjn0BZjQfmOZH541Golms2RU4&__tn__=-]K-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0"><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">Rosanne Gilks</span></a></span> Here is Roseanne's single stroke logo for NOLAC, the Northern Ontario Liquid Adventurer's Club. I think this is found on more than just a few T-Shirts - if I am not mistaken, world wide.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">She never got a penny for it and I am thanking her again for it here.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Recently <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv x1qq9wsj xo1l8bm" href="https://www.facebook.com/scott.sorensen.3990?__cft__[0]=AZU2X8ZIatEY2dQyR9lWuF8xJ-gEx5PqKJsLAoicrTNoxYICc8D-casKJh8mvttgdbPcElnewIB_gJAqxOXuIKxCR_mpT_-0Z6A_sa9Lp-Zjn0BZjQfmOZH541Golms2RU4&__tn__=-]K-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0"><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">Scott Sorensen</span></a></span> mentioned that the scruffy T-Shirt, mounted in a frame prepared by <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv x1qq9wsj xo1l8bm" href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1144833157&__cft__[0]=AZU2X8ZIatEY2dQyR9lWuF8xJ-gEx5PqKJsLAoicrTNoxYICc8D-casKJh8mvttgdbPcElnewIB_gJAqxOXuIKxCR_mpT_-0Z6A_sa9Lp-Zjn0BZjQfmOZH541Golms2RU4&__tn__=-]K-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0"><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">Gerry Bedard</span></a></span> was one of his prized possessions.It features the logo prominently.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLiomGD4mbSjuRfOCFyokVD0KbCQ2iEDvJEeZjn5paBcaYcHvL-y6m1tuUXDswyTyx9tmVm86rm2Ip6Jwhu3lXoWom74Yq6tjjd1uHh0rts_m_HPKFYR-ykj-3T4_c_dw2z8pujSj2eCuMgQyAaPCpKq77LLYMDK5XCgEHiqj9MZNFm3_TP14RAbyWzCa/s1980/NOLAC%20LOGO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="1980" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLiomGD4mbSjuRfOCFyokVD0KbCQ2iEDvJEeZjn5paBcaYcHvL-y6m1tuUXDswyTyx9tmVm86rm2Ip6Jwhu3lXoWom74Yq6tjjd1uHh0rts_m_HPKFYR-ykj-3T4_c_dw2z8pujSj2eCuMgQyAaPCpKq77LLYMDK5XCgEHiqj9MZNFm3_TP14RAbyWzCa/w580-h136/NOLAC%20LOGO.jpg" width="580" /></a></div><br /><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div>Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-65196605811229279512022-02-03T09:48:00.005-05:002022-02-03T09:57:48.274-05:00POWER PROJECTS ON THE KIPAWA RIVERSHED - Here we go again<p class="e-p" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222;">The </span><b style="color: #222222;">Onimiki project</b><span style="color: #222222;"> includes two 42-megawatt mini-power stations that will be built in southern Témiscamingue. </span></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; vertical-align: inherit;">The Aboriginal communities of Kebaowek and Wolf Lake are associated with this project.</span></span></p><p class="e-p" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">At the end of 2021, </span><a class="styled__StyledInternalLink-sc-13vcun-0 ebdbqL e-internal-link" href="https://ici.radio-canada.ca/nouvelle/1824806/onimiki-mrc-temiscamingue-appel-projets" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 102, 153); border-bottom-style: solid; border-image: initial; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-width: 0px 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #006699; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_self" title="https://ici.radio-canada.ca/nouvelle/1824806/onimiki-mrc-temiscamingue-appel-projets"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">Hydro-Québec had launched a call for tenders</span></a><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"> for the acquisition of 480 MW of renewable energy.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">The MRC intends to move forward and file its case by next July.</span></p><blockquote class="sc-bBXqnf bGwFiF blockquote is-long-quote" style="background-color: white; border-bottom: 0px; border-image: initial; border-left: 1px solid var(--bodyhtml-border-line); border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; clear: both; color: #222222; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 27px; padding: 10px 20px; quotes: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--bodyhtml-txt-content); font-family: inherit; font-size: 1.13rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: italic; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="quote left" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“ </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"> We have a project, Onimiki, which has been on the table for several years. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">Our goal is to submit the detailed project to Hydro-Québec as part of [the Crown corporation's] call for projects. </span></span><span class="quote right" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> »</span></p><footer style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: var(--bodyhtml-txt-author); font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.88rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: italic; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.3; margin: 18px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="line" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">— </span><span class="hidden-tag" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; clip: rect(1px, 1px, 1px, 1px); font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; height: 1px; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; position: absolute; vertical-align: baseline; width: 1px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">A quote from</span> </span> <span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">Prefect Claire Bolduc</span></footer></blockquote><p class="e-p" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><q data-attributes="{"lang":{"value":"fr","label":"Français"},"value":{"html":"Notre projet a des avantages certains, notamment grâce aux possibilités de réalisation, qui sont très facilitantes. C'est un projet en partenariat avec les Premières Nations, c'est un projet qui est simple à réaliser dans le contexte des projets hydroélectriques. C'est un projet au fil de l'eau qui ne requiert pas d'ouvrage de rétention de masses d'eau très importantes. On a bon espoir que ce sera un projet qui sera bien reçu","text":"Notre projet a des avantages certains, notamment grâce aux possibilités de réalisation, qui sont très facilitantes. C'est un projet en partenariat avec les Premières Nations, c'est un projet qui est simple à réaliser dans le contexte des projets hydroélectriques. C'est un projet au fil de l'eau qui ne requiert pas d'ouvrage de rétention de masses d'eau très importantes. On a bon espoir que ce sera un projet qui sera bien reçu"}}" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; quotes: "“" "”"; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="fr" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="French"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-weight: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">Our project has certain advantages, in particular thanks to the possibilities of realization, which are very facilitating. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-weight: inherit;">It is a project in partnership with the </span><b>First Nations</b><span style="font-weight: inherit;">, it is a project that is simple to carry out in the context of hydroelectric projects. </span></span></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: inherit;">It is a </span><b>run-of-river </b><span style="font-weight: inherit;">project that does not require a retention structure for very large masses of water. </span></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-weight: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">We are hopeful that this will be a project that will be well received</span></span></span></q><span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; vertical-align: inherit;"> , explains the prefect Claire Bolduc.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">According to an independent evaluation, the <b>two mini-power plant project </b>could generate <b>net revenues of $1.88 million for the First Nations and for the MRC in the first year.</b></span></p><p class="e-p" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;"><b>https://ici.radio-canada.ca/nouvelle/1856549/hydro-quebec-onimiki-temiscamingue-premiere-nation?partageApp=rcca_appmobile_appinfo_android&fbclid=IwAR39fS7cG3DPirgkjc7ijliXyBRK_7WrUrbU69s3nZjP8BGUlSw518cTOwM</b></span></p><div class="signature-container-top" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 16px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="sc-6lnht7-0 hgRLHc m-signature signature-newsstory signature-simplified" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Person" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; min-height: 36px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="sc-6lnht7-2 dASIqu signature-container-text" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="sc-6lnht7-6 bwRJaA signature-text-content" style="align-self: center; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="sc-6lnht7-3 eZOwav signature-avatar-first-name" itemprop="name" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 1px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span aria-hidden="true" class="signature-name" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">Tanya Nephew</span></span></span><div class="sc-1c6bkwm-0 sc-1c6bkwm-1 kqMKTG hTzlzv m-published-date-time" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; display: flex; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.75rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.3; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="svg-icon-wrapper" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 2px 0px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></div><time datetime="2021-09-16 15:47:39.897-04:00" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">September 16, 2021</span></time></div></div></div></div></div><div class="lead-container" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 16px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">The MRC of Témiscamingue wishes to be ready for the next call for projects from the Government of Quebec concerning renewable energies.</span></p></div><section class="redactionals document-content-style" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">A mandate could soon be awarded for the preparation of a technical file which would be submitted with a view to a call for tenders.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><q data-attributes="{"lang":{"value":"fr","label":"Français"},"value":{"html":"On a le principe, on a l’endroit, on a les capacités hydriques, maintenant, techniquement chacune des étapes doit être décrite","text":"On a le principe, on a l’endroit, on a les capacités hydriques, maintenant, techniquement chacune des étapes doit être décrite"}}" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; quotes: "“" "”"; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="fr" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="French"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">We have the principle, we have the location, we have the water capacity; </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">now, technically, each of the stages must be described</span></span></span></q><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;"> , explains the prefect Claire Bolduc. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: inherit;">The council of the MRC du Témiscamingue gave its approval on Wednesday evening for the administrative committee to </span><b>push the project further</b><span style="font-weight: inherit;"> in order to find a firm capable of putting together a well-developed file. </span></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">A step that could cost up to $100,000.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><q data-attributes="{"lang":{"value":"fr","label":"Français"},"value":{"html":"On sait qu’un appel de projets est imminent. Un appel de projets de 480 MW d’énergie verte, donc d’énergie renouvelable. Il y a aura un appel de projets au cours de l’automne. On veut que le projet Onimiki soit prêt, prêt à déposer. On ne veut pas être en train de courir après des consultants ou de l’information technique. On veut être prêt à déposer un projet","text":"On sait qu’un appel de projets est imminent. Un appel de projets de 480 MW d’énergie verte, donc d’énergie renouvelable. Il y a aura un appel de projets au cours de l’automne. On veut que le projet Onimiki soit prêt, prêt à déposer. On ne veut pas être en train de courir après des consultants ou de l’information technique. On veut être prêt à déposer un projet"}}" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; quotes: "“" "”"; vertical-align: baseline;"><span lang="fr" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" title="French"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: inherit;">We know that </span><b>a call for projects is imminent. </b></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">A call for projects of 480 MW of green energy, therefore renewable energy. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">There will be a call for projects in the fall. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">We want the Onimiki project to be ready, ready to file. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">We don't want to be running after consultants or technical information. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: inherit; vertical-align: inherit;">We want to be ready to submit a project</span></span></span></q><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;"> , persists the prefect Claire Bolduc.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: inherit;">The <b>mayors of Témiscaming and Kipawa</b> have registered their dissidence, since no agreement concerning their respective municipality has been concluded for the moment in this project.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;"><b>Premier Legault's office says there will be no hydroelectric development project as long as there are power surpluses,</b> a situation that casts a shadow over the Ominiki mini-power plant development project. Despite everything, the prefect of Témiscamingue stays the course.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">The day after the election of the CAQ government, the mayor of Kipawa, Norman Young, tried to find out the intentions of Premier François Legault on the 42-megawatt mini-power plant project in southern Témiscamingue.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">Four months later, the mayor received a letter signed by the Prime Minister's political attaché, of which Radio-Canada obtained a copy. You can read there:</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">As long as there are electricity surpluses, there will be no development projects. Under these circumstances, the evaluation of the Onimiki project is premature.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">A response “already prepared”, says the prefect</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">This response from the Prime Minister's Office does not discourage the prefect of Témiscamingue, Claire Bolduc, who, on the contrary, intends to work twice as hard.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">There is the official position and there is the reality of things. We look at this and we tell ourselves that our work is not finished. We are still working to obtain water rights and we continue to work. The project is far from dead. This is an answer that goes with the CAQ's program on energy projects. Remember that there are three projects that have been approved by Hydro-Québec, whose water rights have been transferred, assures Claire Bolduc. “We want to see the ins and outs. Very concretely, what does it represent? Financially, in terms of obligations, in environmental terms, what does that represent in our living environments? You have to start somewhere. We are moving forward, we are documenting and then requesting water rights,” says the prefect of Témiscamingue, Claire Bolduc.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12px;">le préfet de la MRC du Témiscamingue, Arnaud Warolin</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">The prefect wants the candidates for the next provincial elections to make commitments regarding the Onimiki project.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">“Another step has just been taken for the Onimiki mini-hydroelectric project when two representatives of the community of Mashteuiatsh, in Saguenay-Lac-Saint-Jean, were in Témiscamingue on Tuesday.---</span><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;"> from Tanya Neveu</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">They explained the Saguenay-Lac Saint-Jean community energy project to elected officials and First Nations representatives. The representative of the community of Mashteuiatsh, Alain Nepton also wishes to be part of the Onimiki project.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">“What we bring is our knowledge, because we are used to it, we have the experience and the technical knowledge to help the community set up its own project, argues Mr. Nepton. It is in this spirit that we bring it. It's not quite as a consultant, it's more to repeat an offer of community partner that we come to propose to the MRC here and to the First Nations. »</span></p><div style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">The MRC du Témiscamingue wants to move forward with the mini-hydroelectric project<br /></span><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">Two new mini hydroelectric power stations could see the light of day in Témiscamingue<br /></span><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">Public consultation to come</span></div><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">The prefect of the MRC du Témiscamingue, Arnaud Warolin, believes that there are still several steps to take before formalizing a partnership with the community of Mashteuiatsh. </span><span style="color: #222222;">“The next steps to take is that we promised the population that we would do serious work on the environment, that we were going to work with people who have the expertise to validate the quality of this project. there and that we would hold consultation, pre-consultation sessions, recalls Mr. Warolin. We are not yet at a final project. We made a commitment to consult the population and that is what we are going to do. »</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></p><span style="background-color: #16698b; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 700;">MRC de Témiscamingue :</span><br style="background-color: #16698b; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: #16698b; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">21, rue Notre-Dame-de-Lourdes, bureau 209</span><br style="background-color: #16698b; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: #16698b; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Ville-Marie (Québec) J9V 1X8</span><br style="background-color: #16698b; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: #16698b; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Téléphone : 819 629-2829 </span><br style="background-color: #16698b; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: #16698b; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Ligne sans frais : 1 855 622-MRCT (6728)</span><br style="background-color: #16698b; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: #16698b; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Télécopieur : 819 629-3472 </span><br style="background-color: #16698b; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="mailto:mrct@mrctemiscamingue.qc.ca" style="background-color: #16698b; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; font-family: "PT Sans", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none; transition-duration: 0.2s; transition-property: color, background-color, border-color; transition-timing-function: linear;">mrct@mrctemiscamingue.qc.ca</a></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><b style="color: #222222;"><br /></b></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><b style="color: #222222;">To the MRC</b></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">le projet hydroélectrique Onimiki</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">Regarding the Kipawa River one may find a complete dossier on line at the following blog address: http://allaboutwhitewater.blogspot.com</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">There is also a complete Federal Court Case on the subject of the Taberet River Diversion Project.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">Please also consult the officials at Opemican National Park.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">It is ironic that that Quebec Corporation and environmental group, Les Amis de la riviere Kipawa which has worked so hard for the preservation of the Kipawa River for the past 40 years has not been interviewed or contacted concerning this project.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">I suggest that they be granted intervenor status immediately on present and future discussions concerning water releases and the size and scope of the project to avoid future litigation and roadblocks.</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">Peter Karwacki</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">Past President</span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;"></span></p><p class="e-p" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 18px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face="Radio-Canada, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">Les amis de la rivière Kipawa</span></p></section>Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-79002145428096657732021-11-29T12:50:00.000-05:002021-11-29T12:50:29.523-05:00Wilderness Tours has announced that will will be waiving the river access fees it has been charging paddlers for the past few years.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2TVH_LKPvFdpxoYkWqu1BniRaoAS81TjQjYEindMZOllwi3fE70t2z1kTAzYvcKHs6x7ZCmrJD0OjixKUnMuZRjlj2GhIqpNY0gHXpj_5cl9gvblEiyZ4l3X-2IlPeJumTelWHz3p_Wm/s1178/Screen+Shot+2021-11-29+at+12.40.14+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="1178" height="590" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2TVH_LKPvFdpxoYkWqu1BniRaoAS81TjQjYEindMZOllwi3fE70t2z1kTAzYvcKHs6x7ZCmrJD0OjixKUnMuZRjlj2GhIqpNY0gHXpj_5cl9gvblEiyZ4l3X-2IlPeJumTelWHz3p_Wm/w640-h590/Screen+Shot+2021-11-29+at+12.40.14+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Katie Kowalski announced:<div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Following the last 6 years of pay-per-use takeout access, Wilderness Tours is removing access fees for private paddlers to provide a more equitable opportunity for all to experience the Ottawa River.</div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, .SFNSText-Regular, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Starting in 2022, a simple check-in at our entrance reception office is all that will be required for takeout access. </span></span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, .SFNSText-Regular, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://wildernesstours.com/park-passes-and-access/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, .SFNSText-Regular, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, .SFNSText-Regular, sans-serif;">https://wildernesstours.com/park-passes-and-access/</span></span></a></div></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, .SFNSText-Regular, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div>Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-11504130249914660122021-07-12T17:40:00.007-04:002021-07-12T17:42:05.007-04:00COUNCIL DEFERS DECISION on Ottawa River Egress Access Road<center style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, system-ui, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" id="x_bodyTable" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; height: 100%px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" id="x_bodyCell" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; height: 4730.76px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; width: 777.483px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" id="x_templateHeader" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat; 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padding: 9px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #333333; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; text-align: center; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Copyright © 2021 Ottawa River Access Project<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />All rights reserved.</em></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><h1 class="x_null" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #222222; font-size: 40px; line-height: 60px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">COUNCIL DEFERS DECISION</h1></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;">Like many of you, we anticipated that Council would be voting on our proposal for a legacy of free, public access on the Ottawa River on July 7th. However, <strong style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Council has made the decision to defer voting on our proposal at this time.</strong> </p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;">We would like to sincerely thank Council for taking the time to speak with us and for their review of our proposal. We acknowledge that this is a complicated matter, and understand their decision to take time to thoroughly consider this issue before voting on this issue. </p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;">Whitewater Ontario is committed to partnering with the Township for the long term to provide the best outcomes and protection for residents, paddlers and adjacent stakeholders. We encourage the Township to continue their work on collaborating with various stakeholders to ensure this project can move forward. </p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;">We will continue to provide updates here and through our social media accounts over the coming weeks and months, so <strong style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">please stay tuned and engaged as we await the next vote - we will need to carry this momentum forward and will need your ongoing support. </strong></p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnDividerBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnDividerBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; min-width: 100%; padding: 9px 18px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; border-top: 1px solid rgb(224, 224, 224); font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" id="x_templateBody" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: 50% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; border-bottom: 0px; border-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 48px; padding-top: 48px;" valign="top"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_templateContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 600px; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_bodyContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background: none 50% 50% / cover no-repeat transparent; border-bottom: 0px; border-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnImageBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnImageBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnImageBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 9px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><h1 class="x_null" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #222222; font-size: 40px; line-height: 60px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">HOW YOU CAN HELP</h1><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;">If you haven’t done so already, please fill out the <a data-auth="Verified" data-linkindex="1" href="https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com%2Ftrack%2Fclick%3Fu%3Db964d3808d536610bf35de6e6%26id%3D900f184aa7%26e%3Dcd979ab6b9&data=04%7C01%7C%7Cdbe4112ad1be48d0405008d9457a7824%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C637617214569742734%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJWIjoiMC4wLjAwMDAiLCJQIjoiV2luMzIiLCJBTiI6Ik1haWwiLCJXVCI6Mn0%3D%7C1000&sdata=kceMzOprMJ3tCyJnsZUWPC4gomKEAlrLR752J4qHGZY%3D&reserved=0" originalsrc="https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=900f184aa7&e=cd979ab6b9" rel="noopener noreferrer" shash="zUzoJ6wpXTt9u0Uqy/loYJFJp3ygUsdgTu54NVRQFFTInqg6nJYtUu9Li+yWpUzGZTRFDw61B3B8QMERSVw9cMcTzF5HSseShGL45IvzqCM34zcsdxvXbjDTfqPFYQwaGaOpBfiaYtvn3M+sYnkrzDPv4uLdSq6AlbiO3+K4kxA=" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Protected by Outlook: https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=900f184aa7&e=cd979ab6b9. Click or tap to follow the link.">survey on our website</a> and let us know how you can help.</p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;">The cost of building the road could come down substantially if people volunteer/donate their time to this project. Here are the big ticket items that would help us bring our costs down with the help of volunteering:</p><ul dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Rock/tree stump removal</li><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Tree cutting</li><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Gravel and Heavy Equipment Use</li></ul>Please indicate on the survey how you are able to help, or reach out to us directly by emailing <a data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="2" href="mailto:info@ottawariveraccess.ca" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">info@ottawariveracces.ca</a>. <br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /> </td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnButtonBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnButtonBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" class="x_mcnButtonBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 0px 18px 18px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnButtonContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #2baadf; border-radius: 4px; font: inherit;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" class="x_mcnButtonContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; padding: 18px;" valign="middle"><a class="x_mcnButton" data-auth="Verified" data-linkindex="3" href="https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com%2Ftrack%2Fclick%3Fu%3Db964d3808d536610bf35de6e6%26id%3Dbd57d6eee2%26e%3Dcd979ab6b9&data=04%7C01%7C%7Cdbe4112ad1be48d0405008d9457a7824%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C637617214569752697%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJWIjoiMC4wLjAwMDAiLCJQIjoiV2luMzIiLCJBTiI6Ik1haWwiLCJXVCI6Mn0%3D%7C1000&sdata=D0swnyTqOqmogFRWMJoldKjqX8fXy9IqDT271EZZR1k%3D&reserved=0" originalsrc="https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=bd57d6eee2&e=cd979ab6b9" rel="noopener noreferrer" shash="NYUNoNE4qy384aiCIcJz4GHPF//fN6PBA3hF9mcX4o5ppQTTD+u9FGMeYONqKkBeA+XWdXVANTlhxKO9RPorwj5MUoIizD/w7AVuF97EKFkovSubbjuzsjNH+1Op00VW218IcK9mW3l0gBqps4fnGRxAAOY6GOuSzp6bkiXIyw4=" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: white; display: block; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Protected by Outlook: https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=bd57d6eee2&e=cd979ab6b9. Click or tap to follow the link.">Fill Out the Survey</a></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnDividerBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnDividerBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; min-width: 100%; padding: 18px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; border-top: 2px solid rgb(234, 234, 234); font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnImageBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnImageBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnImageBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 9px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><h1 class="x_null" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #222222; font-size: 40px; line-height: 60px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">JOIN WHITEWATER ONTARIO</h1></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; 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Click or tap to follow the link.">Whitewater Ontario</a> is a volunteer-driven organization uniting, supporting, and sustaining the inclusive development of the whitewater paddling community and resources.<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />If you haven't already, please consider joining Whitewater Ontario, the backer of this project, where you and family can join a club, support the whitewater community in multiple ways AND a portion of your membership goes directly to river advocacy projects like this one. </td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnButtonBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnButtonBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" class="x_mcnButtonBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 0px 18px 18px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnButtonContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #2baadf; border-radius: 4px; font: inherit;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" class="x_mcnButtonContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; padding: 18px;" valign="middle"><a class="x_mcnButton" data-auth="Verified" data-linkindex="5" href="https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com%2Ftrack%2Fclick%3Fu%3Db964d3808d536610bf35de6e6%26id%3Dedb9cf2f5f%26e%3Dcd979ab6b9&data=04%7C01%7C%7Cdbe4112ad1be48d0405008d9457a7824%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C637617214569752697%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJWIjoiMC4wLjAwMDAiLCJQIjoiV2luMzIiLCJBTiI6Ik1haWwiLCJXVCI6Mn0%3D%7C1000&sdata=6ifYRlZFWEl5hHzQclcbZW0ld4Lt%2Bn8JGBPXtNrPGPo%3D&reserved=0" originalsrc="https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=edb9cf2f5f&e=cd979ab6b9" rel="noopener noreferrer" shash="YCihGfL7r+HYh+ViTDSbAk3JdEjlhKic7sWUI7K/jPbWTs5rPXB/bowYRmwyMpFudaQjLJLPMOiCgSBBak4Fb4my6DwSVWXHMGQiAScLsFXgUR37or1WJHSWKwgUQDh5xCeUMvHMhoP7zt486SLQdncxacqQZTOF2Ozf1K55H5s=" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: white; display: block; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Protected by Outlook: https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=edb9cf2f5f&e=cd979ab6b9. Click or tap to follow the link.">Join WO</a></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnImageBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnImageBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnImageBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 9px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><h1 class="x_null" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #222222; font-size: 40px; line-height: 60px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">SHARE YOUR STORY</h1><h3 class="x_null" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #444444; font-size: 22px; line-height: 33px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">#MyOttawaRiverStory</h3><p style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;">We’ve been collecting your stories about why public access to the Ottawa River is important to you and we’re proud to continue sharing these stories on our <a data-auth="Verified" data-linkindex="6" href="https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com%2Ftrack%2Fclick%3Fu%3Db964d3808d536610bf35de6e6%26id%3D11b637dbcb%26e%3Dcd979ab6b9&data=04%7C01%7C%7Cdbe4112ad1be48d0405008d9457a7824%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C637617214569762651%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJWIjoiMC4wLjAwMDAiLCJQIjoiV2luMzIiLCJBTiI6Ik1haWwiLCJXVCI6Mn0%3D%7C1000&sdata=8G%2BuLSadGJYdKFCMWlDXO%2BxubJvn76YajJyP3UVJfj4%3D&reserved=0" originalsrc="https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=11b637dbcb&e=cd979ab6b9" rel="noopener noreferrer" shash="Law6341grG0tb6UjUbck9w0LDp/f7ALiXwx2wNwdwauXcP5n0xNAIsxX6t+smNhX/wtv9n8Ik6HmM4DxQknsfwPj4fnGcT7AaFR2mV0y3BQiVP5y6vrddkjgRlswYcPRsk1478miJqnjLLTXdLQRuPxGToxDD6iLIElQonEb+W8=" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Protected by Outlook: https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=11b637dbcb&e=cd979ab6b9. Click or tap to follow the link.">Facebook</a> and <a data-auth="Verified" data-linkindex="7" href="https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com%2Ftrack%2Fclick%3Fu%3Db964d3808d536610bf35de6e6%26id%3D1036a2ae32%26e%3Dcd979ab6b9&data=04%7C01%7C%7Cdbe4112ad1be48d0405008d9457a7824%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C637617214569762651%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJWIjoiMC4wLjAwMDAiLCJQIjoiV2luMzIiLCJBTiI6Ik1haWwiLCJXVCI6Mn0%3D%7C1000&sdata=cDhQiNpXhqed%2BY2OyrBBo0Tlkc%2BqY2ES4d%2FVVIx1vAs%3D&reserved=0" originalsrc="https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=1036a2ae32&e=cd979ab6b9" rel="noopener noreferrer" shash="A+aDA7RiiPkmege7701VS+/pSMkMPtuZlLJG3Ij/YdqbNgmkcyvyLVJn/1jDWF97KEQ1EvjaBdjp/7LkpQE824wPSHNL+KNZjMohbc0/ApGvSrZT7IEH3pHrxRHSDynVv7HBzcip68OSF6/mMlLVWu4jZkOKVw73XoFhDRPAWpM=" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Protected by Outlook: https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=1036a2ae32&e=cd979ab6b9. Click or tap to follow the link.">Instagram</a> feeds.<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />Tag us (@ottawariveraccess) in your posts on Instagram about what free, public access on the Ottawa River means to you and use #MyOttawaRiverStory to be featured!<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />If you have already submitted your story via our website, please feel free to follow up by email and let us know you're happy to have your story shared publicly. Please remember to include at least 1 photo to accompany your story!</p></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnImageBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnImageBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnImageBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 9px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnImageBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnImageBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnImageBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 9px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; 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A full list of Council members is below:</p><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><strong style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Mayor Michael Moore</strong></p><ul dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><a data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="11" href="mailto:mayormoore@whitewaterregion.ca" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">mayormoore@whitewaterregion.ca</a></li><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Phone: (H) 613-582-7348 (C) 613-585-1609</li></ul><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><strong style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Reeve Cathy Regier</strong></p><ul dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Email: <a data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="12" href="mailto:cregier@whitewaterregion.ca" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">cregier@whitewaterregion.ca</a></li><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Phone: (C) 613-585-3705 (H) 613-582-3873</li></ul><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><strong style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Councillor Charlene Jackson</strong></p><ul dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Email: <a data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="13" href="mailto:cjackson@whitewaterregion.ca" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">cjackson@whitewaterregion.ca</a></li><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Phone: 613-401-5481</li></ul><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><strong style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Councillor Dave Mackay</strong></p><ul dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Email: <a data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="14" href="mailto:dmackay@whitewaterregion.ca" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">dmackay@whitewaterregion.ca</a></li><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Phone: 613-281-7570</li></ul><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><strong style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Councillor Darryl McLaughlin</strong></p><ul dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Email: <a data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="15" href="mailto:dmclaughlin@whitewaterregion.ca" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">dmclaughlin@whitewaterregion.ca</a></li><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Phone: 613-646-7570</li></ul><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><strong style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Councillor Neil Nicholson</strong></p><ul dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Email: <a data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="16" href="mailto:nnicholson@whitewaterregion.ca" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">nnicholson@whitewaterregion.ca</a></li><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Phone: 613-401-0097</li></ul><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; line-height: 24px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 0px;"><strong style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Councillor Chris Olmstead</strong></p><ul dir="ltr" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Email: <a data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="17" href="mailto:colmstead@whitewaterregion.ca" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #007c89; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">colmstead@whitewaterregion.ca</a></li><li role="presentation" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Phone: 613-312-7565</li></ul></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnDividerBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnDividerBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; min-width: 100%; padding: 18px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; border-top: 2px solid rgb(234, 234, 234); font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnImageBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnImageBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnImageBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 9px;" valign="top"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">We continue to be blown away by the support everyone has shown us throughout this process. <br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />The emails, messages and phone calls have been overwhelming, and we will continue to advocate for a legacy of free, public access on the Ottawa River. <br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />With gratitude, <br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />Ottawa River Access Committee<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />–<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />Dan Kirvan<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />Dave Gillespie<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />Shawna Babcock<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />Graham Kent<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />Chris Goodall<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />John Mason<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />Sierra Stinson</div></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnDividerBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnDividerBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; min-width: 100%; padding: 18px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; border-top: 2px solid rgb(234, 234, 234); font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnBoxedTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnBoxedTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnBoxedTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnBoxedTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 9px 18px;"><table border="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #404040; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #f2f2f2; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; padding: 18px; text-align: center; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Rocher Fendu section of the Ottawa River has been paddled since time immemorial. These waters run through the unceded homelands and unsurrendered traditional territory of the Anishinaabeg and Algonquin Nations.<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />We recognize the Algonquin people as the customary keepers of the Ottawa River watershed and its tributaries. Today, many of us have the privilege to paddle the river's waters and walk the land that surrounds it. We are grateful for the opportunities to learn and connect to the land that this river provides us.*</span></div></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><h2 class="x_null" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #222222; font-size: 34px; line-height: 51px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">Follow Us</h2><div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">@OttawaRiverAccess</div></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnFollowBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnFollowBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" class="x_mcnFollowBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 9px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnFollowContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-left: 9px; padding-right: 9px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnFollowContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-left: 9px; padding-right: 9px; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnFollowStacked" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; display: inline; font: inherit;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" class="x_mcnFollowIconContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-right: 10px;" valign="top"><a data-auth="Verified" data-linkindex="18" href="https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com%2Ftrack%2Fclick%3Fu%3Db964d3808d536610bf35de6e6%26id%3Dfc9f32e6ac%26e%3Dcd979ab6b9&data=04%7C01%7C%7Cdbe4112ad1be48d0405008d9457a7824%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C637617214569782564%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJWIjoiMC4wLjAwMDAiLCJQIjoiV2luMzIiLCJBTiI6Ik1haWwiLCJXVCI6Mn0%3D%7C1000&sdata=T07p5NxzBnYikKfl6opD4%2BOFB%2FsdOcd%2FycZrftAP1r8%3D&reserved=0" originalsrc="https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=fc9f32e6ac&e=cd979ab6b9" rel="noopener noreferrer" shash="qomggZql3UcXbIxm9BHwEBLLsFyXZjSyYdvg3ERJrvpXSlU/kHhLANWWQ4b6C3xowYuTzwSBQobQjvYB/R1fYbI39XhdrPLbuk47I/pH3ArzGuwtBVK27xkJoB4hsD/XLoGKGwI0NUVrePHZMrH+gGZJ87Qa6GCg9VPxveRaw6s=" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Protected by Outlook: https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/track/click?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=fc9f32e6ac&e=cd979ab6b9. 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color: #757575; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">#OttawaRiverAccess</span></div><div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">#MyOttawaRiverStory</span></div></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnDividerBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnDividerBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; min-width: 100%; padding: 18px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; border-top: 2px solid rgb(234, 234, 234); font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnBoxedTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnBoxedTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnBoxedTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnBoxedTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding: 9px 18px;"><table border="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #404040; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: #f2f2f2; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; padding: 18px; text-align: center; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: inherit; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">*This acknowledgement is an important Indigenous protocol. Respect the water and please take the time to honour the river and land where we paddle. It gives us rich experiences and access to beautiful natural spaces. Our commitment is to gain a deeper understanding about the history of this land, the original inhabitants, be responsible users of the river, and show respect.</span></em></div></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td align="center" id="x_templateFooter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background: none 50% 50% / cover no-repeat rgb(51, 51, 51); border-bottom: 0px; border-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 63px; padding-top: 45px;" valign="top"><table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_templateContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 600px; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_footerContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background: none 50% 50% / cover no-repeat transparent; border-bottom: 0px; border-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnDividerBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnDividerBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; min-width: 100%; padding: 18px;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnDividerContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; border-top: 2px solid rgb(80, 80, 80); font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><span color="inherit" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextBlock" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="x_mcnTextBlockOuter" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextBlockInner" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; padding-top: 9px;" valign="top"><table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="x_mcnTextContentContainer" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border-collapse: collapse; font: inherit; max-width: 100%; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><tr style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><td class="x_mcnTextContent" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; color: white; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; text-align: center; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Copyright © 2021 Ottawa River Access Project<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />All rights reserved.</em><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />Want to change how you receive these emails?<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" />You can <a data-auth="Verified" data-linkindex="24" href="https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com%2Fprofile%3Fu%3Db964d3808d536610bf35de6e6%26id%3Da149c7985d%26e%3Dcd979ab6b9%26c%3De035b1a488&data=04%7C01%7C%7Cdbe4112ad1be48d0405008d9457a7824%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C637617214569812429%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJWIjoiMC4wLjAwMDAiLCJQIjoiV2luMzIiLCJBTiI6Ik1haWwiLCJXVCI6Mn0%3D%7C1000&sdata=12qzCc06AY2z5MVDcAREJdta9%2B%2FjGgee%2BTR1XGoJA%2Bc%3D&reserved=0" originalsrc="https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/profile?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=a149c7985d&e=cd979ab6b9&c=e035b1a488" rel="noopener noreferrer" shash="ge2FXJKGuLWkJ1nxcoQuq/IM6+s3dEY7wOi8lNiV5dsCpQWPI73XJ6JuCnPnEcBgHn07Pf9mZc+uhhbxsmk71X4i1F0v0rufXe5XG/lhYh+lE5tM6AWWAbNgJ7J+1HQckovSVTPyEPcxdUrlAcfGKTD0lDNp4NN/x5vlo2X1TUA=" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Protected by Outlook: https://ottawariveraccess.us6.list-manage.com/profile?u=b964d3808d536610bf35de6e6&id=a149c7985d&e=cd979ab6b9&c=e035b1a488. 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Click or tap to follow the link.">unsubscribe from this list</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></center><center style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web (West European)", "Segoe UI", -apple-system, system-ui, Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;" /></center>Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-21392694962926252392021-06-18T16:11:00.006-04:002021-06-18T16:34:21.600-04:00The proposal for public access to the Ottawa River River in Whitewater Townshiphttps://youtu.be/UT_lpWYsTX8<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UT_lpWYsTX8" width="320" youtube-src-id="UT_lpWYsTX8"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhua1_jUaPxu_sMqAhM2jPddP86HjYVfE7Ji4QMMfyIlt8Q3qwz54iZ3pUi9fPKibViVyWwbAWLSO2GciAWR5h-MOLWeKFSTQ-CWVAs_Finm6FRfTd6CdNKLTYF1AnSFfekO00z4iyPJd5Q/s2549/Kowalski+World.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1234" data-original-width="2549" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhua1_jUaPxu_sMqAhM2jPddP86HjYVfE7Ji4QMMfyIlt8Q3qwz54iZ3pUi9fPKibViVyWwbAWLSO2GciAWR5h-MOLWeKFSTQ-CWVAs_Finm6FRfTd6CdNKLTYF1AnSFfekO00z4iyPJd5Q/w640-h310/Kowalski+World.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmkOp7KUdk2cWfghqW8XvYMqxnvrog0xEGXoNc41b96aCyasszKrsG68PVYpboowxbTYjeUGEEAAi07Th95UJxwkXoWe9V4KRWENVWWFQc4tb0zS-BkT_2JbjqwNNnqaG97tn9aE_euun/s2046/Screen+Shot+2021-06-18+at+4.23.41+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1106" data-original-width="2046" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWmkOp7KUdk2cWfghqW8XvYMqxnvrog0xEGXoNc41b96aCyasszKrsG68PVYpboowxbTYjeUGEEAAi07Th95UJxwkXoWe9V4KRWENVWWFQc4tb0zS-BkT_2JbjqwNNnqaG97tn9aE_euun/w640-h346/Screen+Shot+2021-06-18+at+4.23.41+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The common access road exists in an undeveloped state. Whitewater Ontario has petitioned to open up this road for public use (hint: they do not have to). <a href="https://www.ontario.ca/laws/statute/90r34">https://www.ontario.ca/laws/statute/90r34</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-1691023670788582392020-12-03T12:22:00.051-05:002020-12-06T17:03:04.153-05:00The NEW Kipawa River Chonicles: copyright 2020 <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/Image33.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Hollywood Rapid" border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="600" height="374" src="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/Image33.gif" title="Hollywood Rapid - Kipawa River" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><b><br /></b></div><b><div><b><br /></b></div>The New Kipawa River Chronicles </b><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Act One</b> </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>The action moves from the Kipawa River to the Lodge. Les Amis find out about the government plans to divert the river and decide to organize.
The set is darkened. There is a spotlight on a paddler standing next to the river in his gear, another appears to be in the river ready to descend. </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Scene One </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Pete: </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>
If I told you I was a river preservationist, you’d probably say, "oh…, that's nice" but what you’d be thinking is like, "Boy... glad I don't have to do that."
</div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>Well, I started out thinking I would help save the planet and I ended up selling raffle tickets, working at bake sales and running silent auctions… to pay for lawyers. These days, things get sorted out in court or by politicians.
And the lawyers? unless they’re paddlers, always get paid. I got my friend Rob involved: he is a lawyer… and a paddler.
And paddling? It all starts out innocently enough, somebody invites you to try your hand in a kayak, maybe even go rafting. I was invited to watch a film called, "Dudh Kosi - Relentless River of Everest" and I got hooked.
If you grow up under a wing...sooner or later you might just start taking risks. Some get really irrational hanging upside down in a kayak....and even more irrational running out of air. But some just get even more focused, you know, like time stops, and suddenly, you are more alive than ever.
One by one, they drop out. Take Ray,for example, his shoe gets sucked off his foot in a little rapid...that was enough for him – lost his nerve.
And Matti? He got window shaded in a little hole...so bye bye Matti. No more paddling.
Others just get older and a bit too pudgy...maybe a bit too stiff, or a bit too cautious. </div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>Whitewater kayaking is not for the faint of heart. It gets better, maybe easier but it never gets safer.
So I ‘m a river preservationist, and I’ve paddled more rivers than I can name, the Colorado of the Grand Canyon, the headwaters of the Ganges in India, the Gauley, the Kipawa, and more so I’ve earned my stripes.
I published a paper in the Journal of sustainable development and presented it at Energex 2002. ..and these days others actually read it. The one I did for the journal of the Canadian Dam association on designing navigable water control structures....got a standing ovation when it was presented . And there’s a chance they are actually being built… somewhere.
</div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>The challenge of the river preservationist is to stop the hydro electric developer, to stymie the industrial polluter, to preach to the weekend litterbug, educate the land owner about them giving access.
We have to mess with the cost, benefit regression analyses of Hydro project managers.
A Texas lawyer heard about my work to save the Kipawa from diversion. He said that we had already slowed the project planners down – just by starting our court action… by muddying the waters for the project planners. That might be.
An aboriginal chief said there was ‘gonna be a project’ whether we liked it or not and we had to choose to support his band’s project.
A government official said that there was a process and we had to follow it, like it or lump it.
A paddling buddy said that ‘nobody gave a damn’ about the Kipawa River and besides there were plenty of other rivers to paddle, closer to home.
People told me that there were too many other causes, and priorities and nobody was going to lift a finger to save the Kipawa River from diversion from its natural and rocky stream bed.
A laywer from Montreal said it was ‘gonna take a lot of time and a lot of money’ and in the end it would be the politicians that would decide the matter. </div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>Money, it seems tends to be the arbiter of the environment as is so often the case these days.
Well, it was Hydro Quebec that we were fighting with but it was the Federal Government that owned the dam. Somebody built it but the Feds took it over. They made it so logs could float down stream. That was the original intent. But the dam got old and Hydro Quebec got greedy when they came up with a plan for every drop of water running downhill in the province.
They were going to divert the Kipawa except for a few drops called the ‘reserve flow’.
We asked to have a stop log gate installed on the south end of the refurbished dam on the Kipawa. The last time I checked...they had installed a stop log gate there, just like we asked, but they never open it.
When the Tembec Corp built a bridge over the river....they did not check with paddlers to see how they felt about it. They didn’t worry about destroying the attainment Eddie's on either side of the big glassy wave that was a favorite surf spot..oh no.
Being a river preservationist also means dealing with government and this means bureaucracy and the frustrations of getting things done slowly by committee.
It means that you may disagree with other river preservationists, and have heated hour long debates, over the correct spelling of the group's name, for instance.
Years went by and I stepped back from it all. Two relationships suffered, I lost a good friend. Something had to give.
Today I am a fair weather paddler…and then there was that heart attack – (pause) probably unrelated.
</div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div>So when the Kipawa River ended up on the back of the $20 bill, I felt pretty darn good about it. When they declared there be a park on the Kipawa I figured they would let the dam water be. Hydro Quebec cancelled its Tarbaret River Diversion Project. We lost… you see, but then, we won.
Thinking back to the court case, which we lost, well we eventually won, you know? Lost the battle, won the war.
And the judge that said my behavior was harassing when I told the feds that we would come after them like a swarm of Hornets...and maybe a few email and letters, and phone calls more from me than they wanted to handle.
So yes, you might be glad it was me and not you when I say I am a river preservationist. — for the Kipawa River… but this here is our story. </div><div><br /></div></blockquote><b>[The scene opens at Pete’s Dragon Rapid] </b><br /><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>The scene opens on a stage ramp. There are plastic streamers attached to the floor and air is blowing from the bottom to make them flap. Pete is his kayak (which is worn like hobby horse) with helmets and paddles. The paddlers are wearing kayaks like barrels and their feet extend below so they can walk while appearing to paddle. The boats are short so they have a slightly comical look about them The set is a scaffold with two platforms. There is a ramp leading from one platform to the other. The platform is wooden, with a wire mesh but solid with blue and white mylar streamers attached to each wire. Grey Styrofoam boulders line the sides of the platform simulating a river. There are fans below blowing air and it makes the streamers flutter to simulate water splashing.
Two paddlers are on the river, One in his boat, the other on shore with a throw bag.
Doug is Out of his boat…on shore. </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b> Doug:</b> </div><div><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>(shouting) </b></div><div> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Let me grab your boat! </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>The backdrop is a screen and it shows a picture of Hollywood rapid and the lodge. On the right “shore”, steps are fashioned to look like boulders so there are no streamers. </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Pete:</b> </div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>(on the top ramp – shouting back)
</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">No, not this time, … set up a throwline I’m going to try it. </div></blockquote><p> </p><div><b> Doug: </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">You sure? OK!
</div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b> (he moves down the shore/steps and stands next to the lower platform with his safety throw bag ready. </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Ready! </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>(waves arm) </b></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>The spotlight shines at the top of the ramp where the paddler is in contemplation: </i></b></div><div><br /></div><div><b> Pete:</b> </div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">It looks doable. Well I’m pretty sure I can do it. It’s now or never and.. </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
(he describes the moves as he is doing them, moving down the ramp)
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Punch that hole, </div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
off that lip,
brace left, </div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
come around to the right. And …
</div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Whoop! </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> That’s a solid class IV run. Congratulations, I think you’re the first person to ever run it.
We’re gonna call it “Pete’s Dragon”. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Pete: </b></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> I don’t know what got into me…but its such a nice day, It just seemed like the thing to do. I just knew I could do it. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug:</b> </div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Have noticied all the flagging tape everywhere? Somebody’s been spray painting all the rocks orange. Looks like a survey crew has been up to something. </div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> </div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Maybe Scott knows’ what’s going on.
</div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>The set has a wooden platform on stage with a wooden railing. The two kayaks come down the ramp and float/stand next to the dock. Scott is standing on the platform with a fishing rod and a fishing net in his hands. There is a big red devil on his line and he is looking at it. </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Scott:</b> </div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Hey, I didn’t see you boys up there. How y’all doing. How was your run? </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Pete: </b></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Awesome, we did the whole thing - top to bottom this time. </div></blockquote><div> </div><div><b>Scott: </b></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Well all right! All the more power to you boys for running Hollywood. I haven’t ever seen anybody run the top section, I’m sorry I missed it. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug: 7</b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Good to see you again but why all the flagging tape and paint up there? </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Scott: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> It’s not me, its Hydro Quebec.
Bad News fellas. You know the old dam up at Laniel was aleakin’. Well now they wants to divert the river with a whole new dam and send our Kipawa through a new generating plant just south of here down the Lake </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>( Lac Temiskaming.) </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> What the..? </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Scott: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> After all these years too. Pat and I have been going over it, and we’re worried sick. Its crazy. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Charlie shows up on the dock </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Charlie: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Have you guys heard the news? They want to divert the river! It will turn the Kip into a dry gulch! Damn Hydro wants every last drop of water running downhill! </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> [Exclamations from the group, in various colorful language.] </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Pete: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> We’ll have to stop them …somehow? </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[Light dims]
</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Act One </b></div><div><b>Scene Two</b> </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[The scene opens at the Kipawa River Lodge, River Cabin.
Six paddlers are sitting in the lodge, the audience sees a fire place wall with two couches on either side, and a Kitchen table off to the side with two benches. There is a broken paddle on the wall, and various garments/towels hanging. Beer cans on the table. We have Pete, Doug, Derek, and Dave] </b></div><div><br /></div><div> <b>All: </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>(Guitar playing) </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Look out momma there’s a white boat comin’ up the river… </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> NOLAC’ERs, Here’s to a great day on the Kipawa!, </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div> <b>Others: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Paddlers 5: River 1. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> <b>Beers are raised, joviality reigns. </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Nice run , I would have tried it except for my elbow. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Peter: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Looks like its starting to swell up a bit. I hope its good to go tomorrow..
So there was more flagging tape and paint on the rocks at elbow rapid? The survey work goes all the way up and down the river from what I could see. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[Scott opens the side door and walks in:] </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Scott: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Guys, what time are you heading out tomorrow, I can get Pat to run shuttle and go with ya’ll if you are up and out early enough? </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We can be up at 8 and ready to go by 9, how’s that? </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Pete: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Wha? We can? </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[Charlie opens the door and bursts in, his big voice matches his big 6.3 frame which fills the entrance way. Behind him, John, just as big, carrying a large back pack. He drops the pack and pulls out a newspaper inside it] </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Peter: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">A new dam, that is the first I’ve heard of it, how’d you hear about it. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div> <b>Charlie: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> I read it right here in the local rag, Le Reflection.
</div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[hands him the paper in his hand] </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
My French is so, so but its pretty clear to me they are moving it along…says the Feds are transferring the Laniel dam to the province They have to refurbish it before the province will take it over. It’s a $25 million gift to Quebec that nobody knows about.
</div></blockquote><p> <b>John</b>:</p><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Yeah, they plan to dig a new channel and build a new bridge on highway 101. Sounds nuts but they want all the water in the Kipawa diverted so they can maximize the total drop. Its a 140 Megawatt power project! </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b> Doug: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> That’s way too big anyway! Ugly and industrial. This is supposed to be a protected area. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div> <b>Charlie: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Now the local aboriginals are claiming they want a piece of the action, they have their own project down in Temiskaming. The Wolf Lake band proposal is for 42 MW.
They want the water. “hash tags” Its all about ‘money’. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> The enemy of my enemy is my friend! </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Scott: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> That must be why Hydro Quebec was planning on sending a guy up here for the rally tomorrow, they said they wanted to talk to me about something. They are really nice when they want something from you. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Pete:</b> </div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> It’s hard to believe they want to take away this beautiful river. We have to stop ‘em.
This is our river. … and that paint and those flags everywhere. How’d they like it if we did that all over their back yards?
</div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>(silence at first then the sound of a snare drum beating a call to march, and as the conversation builds, the sound of a piccolo) </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> They’d have to do an environmental assessment if they want to transfer the dam maybe they did one without anybody telling us, it’s the first I’ve heard about this.
Yeah!
They are trying to ram it through without talkin’ to anyone that might object to it. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[All in muffled agreement] </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Derek: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> We have to get organized. We’ll incorporate as “Friends of the Kipawa”, like they did for the Gatineau. “Les Amis de la Riviere Kipawa”! </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div> <b>All: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Yeah! </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[all muffles of agreement] </b></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug:</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Good move, government likes to deal with organizations, not individuals though. We have to expand our membership. Here we are a bunch of paddlers from Ontario trying to save a river in Quebec. We need more locals. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b> Pete: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> I nominate Doug for president! </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Fuck you! </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b> [laughter, and snickers] </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Derek: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> I can get some model bylaws from the Quebec Whitewater Association </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>(FQCK) </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">and file the papers when I get back to Montreal. You can do it on line for about 30 bucks. We should incorporate in Quebec though. </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b> Peter: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Great! Who is Vice President? </div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><b>Doug:</b> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Thanks for volunteering. </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
(more guffaws and snickering) </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Derek: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> I’ll be the secretary, we’ll need a bank account.
</div></blockquote><p><b>Doug: </b></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">“Good Man”, </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[ more Muttering.] </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Dave: </b></div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> I’ll open one at the BMO down from my place once we have the papers filed. Everybody give me ten bucks for the account… a ten dollar membership fee! We will ask everyone that attends the Kipawa River Rally to become a member and donate to the cause. </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Doug:</b></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">All in favor? </div></blockquote><p><b>ALL:</b> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Aye </div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[they all raise their hands and start giving Dave their money]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete:</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We’ll come at them like a swarm of mad hornets.
</div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug:</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We’ve been paddling this river for years, if we don’t do something, for damn sure nobody else will! it’d be like we had stolen all that time on the water.</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Dave:</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">I’ll scan the gazette to see if I can see any announcements.
</div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
I’ll contact the mayor of Laniel and see what he can tell us.
</div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>John: </b></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> </div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">I’ll start up a webpage, so we can get the word out….</div></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
[scene fades out with them all busy planning the resistance movement]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Act Two</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>The action moves from an office in Gatineau, the headquarters of Quebec Hydro, to a living room in Montreal and finally to a meeting of Whitewater Ontario. Les Amis approach the government about their concerns, are ignored, and plan to take the government to court. They have to get the money from “somewhere”
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Scene One
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[The scene opens at the offices of Public Works in Gatineau in the waiting room of the marine services division, Peter and Doug are waiting to visit with Yvon Morin, the manager of Marine Services in Eastern Canada. The stage is dark except for the spotlight on them. ]
Doug is sitting on a bench, Pete enters a bit breathless…
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
I thought you weren’t going to make it. What have you got on the laptop?
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
It’s Ronny’s video, it shows kayaks, canoes and rafts running the dam at Laniel. I thought that it would help. You can see us paddling through the gates of the dam - maybe they will change their minds on the design if they see how much fun it is. Maybe they'll see the tourism potential…
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Doug:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Our plan is to ensure that they continue to let us run the dam at Laniel. If there is water running through the dam there, there is no business case for the river diversion project.
For the time being we want to let them know we want navigation at the dam preserved according to our past practice over the last 40 years.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Secretary: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Mr. Morin will see you now.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[Mr. Yvon Morin is a middle aged government functionary. He appears to have a substantial waist, far from being an active man, rather he is the kind of civil servant who is looking forward to a peaceful retirement. The spotlight moves over to a desk at which Mr. Morin sits, the stage is now fully lit]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Bonjour Mr. Morin, very nice of you to meet with us. This is Mr. Karwacki our vice president.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Mr. Morin: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Welcome/Bien Venue, I manage the marine services for Eastern Canada. I was surprised to get your call, what seems to be the problem?
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
It’s the dam up at Laniel, Quebec. It is owned by Canada and you are responsible for it. We agree, it needs refurbishment. We want to discuss your design plans.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Mr. Morin: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Plans?…what about our plans?
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Well, we have been using the water control dam there for almost 40 years. Paddlers have been running the dam for years.
They used to run logs. Nowj just like logs used to be driven through the dam we run our kayaks…. And we want to make sure that when you refurbish the dam you take our use of it into consideration?
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Mr. Morin: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
What do you mean, “using the dam”?
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Like Mr. Karwacki has said, We’ve been running, er… navigating the dam. We have a video showing this during the last Kipawa River Rally. Let me show you.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[Pete opens laptop and begins showing the video. The video is projected on the overhead screen so the audience can see it. The video is projected on the screen in the theatre, showing kayaks, rafts and canoes running the dam. ]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Mr. Morin: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
C’est impossible! You cannot do that! It is illegal!</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
I’m sorry Monsieur Morin but actually we can,
According to the Navigable waters Protection Act. We know that the current Laniel dam itself is illegal, it was never approved when it was built!
We want the refurbished dam to preserve our historical right of navigation.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
If you modify the dam in any way to affect our ability to navigate it, the paddling community will be very upset. We’ve been running a festival, the Kipawa River Rally in Laniel for 25 years. Businesses in the village of Laniel look forward to the tourist dollars to help make ends meet. That area badly needs the jobs and the tourists.
Paddlers come in, stay at the local cabins, buy gas for the festival and come back again later with their friends and families. It is a win /win situation, no pollution, maximum benefit for all.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p><b> [Switch to the image of Sadia Loney descending the main gate at the dam project on main screen]</b></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Mr. Morin: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
This is all news to me. You see, our planning is well established. I cannot promise you anything.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Peter: </b></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">The paddling community will come after you and your department like a swarm of hornets if you let Hydro Quebec divert the river. </div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We would challenge you in court if we have to but we don’t want it to come to that.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug:
</b></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"> I apologize, Mr. Morin, if Mr. Karwacki seems to be too agressive about this but we are all very passionate about this particular river.</p></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Keep the video and this documentation on the history of navigation our group prepared. We call ourselves: Les Amis de la rivière Kipawa. We will wait to hear back from your office on your decision.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[They shake hands, exchange cards, and the light drops]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Act Two</b> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Scene Two
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[The scene opens a top floor office within a heavily secured building somewhere in Montreal. The scene is darkened, with purple light - and malevolent. Managers are gathered (dressed as gothic monastic monks and are discussing their next moves.] </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Dark Figure Three: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
A problem has come up number one. A group of paddlers has formed a non profit corporation to resist us. Our plan to capture every drop of water running downhill from the Kipawa watershed is at risk.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Dark Figure two: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We will stall them! while we get the dam approved. Make sure Morin keeps his mouth shut. By the time they figure out what is really happening the project will be a done deal.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Dark Figure three: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
They know the original dam was never approved. They know the refurbished dam will be transferred to the province. What else do they know? We have to move fast.
They are sending emails to everybody and anyone who might listen.Number One is starting to get letters from the locals. I suggest we accelerate our plans.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Dark Figure Four:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Les Amis have sent a representative to Poland to deliver a paper at Energex. They are talking up the Kipawa versus the Tabaret River Diversion project. It is being published in the journal of applied Energy. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> We do not need this kind of publicity.
And now, The Canadian Dam Association has accepted their proposed paper on Navigating Water Control Structures for Christ’s sake.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Dark Figure Three:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Any traction on this?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Dark Figure Four:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> It gives them a platform and increases their credibility. They have have a spot at the Canadian Heritage River conference as well.
The problem is they have been running their whitewater festival for the past twenty years so they have standing in court. Their little protest is screwing up our estimates, they are screwing up our plans!</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">It could stop the generating station project.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Dark Figure two: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
It doesn’t matter, they are throwing a monkey wrench into our plans. Stonewall them. We’ll just move ahead for now, just alter the dam design just in case. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Give them their gate... </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">but we’ll never open it!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>All: </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b> [All dark figures except for Number One - Snickering and manical laughter]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Dark Figure One: </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>(Deep voice like Darth Vader with heavy breathing)
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Keep moving on this. I find your frivolity - disturbing. The longer this project is delayed the more our money is washed downstream.
I want Tabaret to go ahead. Make it happen!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Act Two </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Scene Three
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[The scene opens at the home and living room of Dave Pollard, in Montreal, paddlers are gathered, they are discussing their next moves. An environmental lawyer, Gertler has joined them] </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
It’s been six months and we haven’t heard from Morin. Now I see they have announced the dam refurbishment contrac to Guy Laflame Construction. They are intentionally ignoring us.
The Environmental Review people are clearly biased towards their project. They will not talk to us.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
What are our options?
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Gertler: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
You can do nothing: basically accept that they are going to ignore you.
You can launch a review of the decision in court and ask to block the refurbishment of the dam. </div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
How much would that cost?
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Gertler: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
It could cost up to a half million dollars, ...and you likely would lose. You see the problem? It is not illegal to make a bad decision, its only illegal to follow a faulty process towards that decision. Besides, these matters are usually political. The courts rarely interfere with government projects like this.
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
… a half million!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
let him finish
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"> </p></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Gertler: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
…as I was saying, a judicial review would cost up to a half million dollars.
Your other option is to try to raise this as a political issue, which it is. The plan is to transfer the refurbished dam to Quebec Its like a cash transfer to Quebec – nobody is talking about that. People are testy about preferred treatment of Quebec these days.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We have discussed this. We don’t have the money. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">While we have managed to raise some funds from the paddling community - its nowhere near that sum.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Gertler: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Environmentalists soon find out that when they want to save the environment: they end up fund raising to pay their legal bills.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Peter: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
The good news is that we are incorporated, we have court standing, and even if we lose, none of us would be liable for court costs. The corporation would just have to dissolve.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We have one member who is an HR lawyer who might agree to do the Judicial Review filing for us. We hope to meet with him at the next Rally. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p><br /></p><p><b>Gertler</b>: </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">There are other court costs besides paying for lawyers.</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Peter: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
I don’t know about the rest of you but I feel we have to do something. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We may lose, but at least we will be at peace knowing we did all we could do. The Kipawa has been a unique jewel of a river to paddle all these years.
That old dam leaked like a sieve, even when it was closed we could still paddle the river.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Everybody knows that the new dam is part of Hydro Quebec’s diversion plans…it’s the perfect way to turn the river into a dry gulch. It won’t leak, and they’ll turn off the tap.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> We have to use the judicial review to ensure that refurbishment keeps water in the river. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We’ll ask to navigate the dam under the Navigable Water’s Protection Act but Navigation means there will still be water going into the river, not some paltry reserve flow.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> I am suffering at home over this. My wife is stressed out about my talking about taking the government to court. She works for the government and is worried about losing her job.
This is a big deal to me though. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">If I ever have grand children I would hate to tell them I was just sitting around while the government away our rights and our river.
If not us who?, if not now, when? If this river is not worth saving then what is worth saving?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>All: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Yeah! Right! </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b> (Back and forth)
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
So as the executive, all in favor of recommending we launch the judicial review of the dam refurbishment to the membership?
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>All: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Yea! </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"> <b>(all agree)
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
The executive agrees. I guess we'll figure out how to pay for it later. </div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Thanks to Mr. Gertler for his advice and counsel.
And now… Pizza!
</div></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Peter: </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>(aside to Doug)
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">I wonder if we’re making the right move?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
You can’t let fear take over. It’s like running a rapid. We know the challenge is great - we don’t know what will happen next, but we do know we are prepared, and our cause is just. We have had some of our best and worst days out there on the Kipawa.</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p><br /></p><p><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Ahem. Attention everyone! </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><b>(Some mumbling as Doug pulls out a plaque from his attaché) </b></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span>Les amis de la riviere Kipawa present this plaque to <i><span style="color: red;">Peter Karwacki</span></i>, our vice president, and immediate past president in appreciation of his outstanding efforts to preserve and protect the Kipawa River. </span></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span>Afterall, without his work, we would have no case.</span></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"><b>Cheers</b></p><p><b>All: </b></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">Cheering </p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p style="text-align: left;"><b>[On the edge of tears] </b></p><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">No matter what lies ahead, it will seem mild in comparison to my first time running Hollywood rapid. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"><b>[laughing and guffawing] </b></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">Thanks for this. It means a lot to me knowing that you all support what I have been doing. It hasn't been easy at home these days and I find strength in knowing others feel the same way about the need to protect the Kipawa River.</p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><p style="text-align: left;"><b>[more clapping and cheering. Back pats etc. ]</b></p><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[scene ends, light fades]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Act Two</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Scene Four
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[The scene opens at a meeting of the board of whitewater Ontario. Peter is convincing the board of the need to sponsor Les Amis de la Riviere Kipawa in their court challenge]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Member one: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We are a racing organisation, we don’t have the money for river preservation.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Peter:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We are not asking for the moon here. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">The paddling community is looking for leadership on this issue. They NEED to know that their association is fighting for access to whitewater.
While it is true that the river is in Quebec the Kipawa issue impacts paddlers across the country. Besides, the Kipawa River has been paddled for over 40 years, and Whitewater Ontario has helped sponsor the rally for almost 25 years. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">The time has come to fight for the River and our right to paddle it and other rivers in Canada.
They want to rehabilitate the dam. We agree with that.
They want to take away our right to navigate that dam, we disagree with that. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We know that if the river is kept navigable: there is no business case for the power plant.
All we want is to maintain what we have done all along. It is the same thing that is happening right here in Minden. It’s no different than shooting the dam’s sluiceway at Minden – and you have been doing it for years. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> How would you like it if they stopped that?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">This is the right of Canadians to navigate our lakes rivers and streams unfettered by whimsical government regulation or the aggressive commercial interests exploiting power development, irrigation, water control and property rights. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We’re saying recreational paddling has value, the river has value, the habitat has value.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Member two:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">I agree with Peter, we have to show our support. I move that we set aside $10,000 from our plant fund to support the Kipawa River environmental judicial review.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Member three: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">I second that.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Member one: </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
[All look at number one.. He begrudgingly raise his hand]
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Aye
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>All: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
All in favour. Aye. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[cheering and clapping]
</b></div><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
[End of Act Two, the scene lightly fades]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Act Three
</b></div><p><b> </b></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>The action moves from the Heritage River Conference, back to Dave’s living room, back to the Kipawa River to the Federal Court room and finally to a bar.
Les Amis have internal struggles, they evangelize and finally hear the decision of the court.
</b></div><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Scene One
</b></div><p style="text-align: left;"> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[The scene opens at a Heritage River Conference. (Guelph) Peter is finishing his address to a small seminar group. A sign hangs overhead reading “Welcome to the 5th annual Canadian Heritage River Conference”]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Peter: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
So in conclusion: In our study of the Kipawa River versus the Tabaret River Development Project, developers of dams and water control structures must factor in all the values of a river not just the value of power or the value of irrigation to such values as recreation and bio diversity. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We believe it is also useful to look at man made whitewater venues around the world. It costs about $1.6 million dollars per 1000 meters of whitewater constructed. This means that the value of the whitewater on the Kipawa can be approximated to about $30 million dollars.
This cost should be factored into the cost benefit of the Tabaret feasibility study. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Any questions?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Attendee one:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">You have already put a monkey wrench into their plans haven’t you?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Peter:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">The environmental impact study was flawed from the beginning. At first they said that our paddling the dam was illegal. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We showed that the old dam at Laniel, itself was illegal, it had never been approved under the Navigable waters protection act. It was designed to let logs and other things pass through it. It never impeded navigation.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We have been running the dam for 40 years.
Then they said it was unsafe.
We have demonstrated through 40 years of paddling, and through 20 years of whitewater festivals and countless commercial rafting trips that running the dam, …that navigation of the dam was safe.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Now they are that taking away our ability to paddle the dam saying this is an insignificant loss. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We contend that this is very unique recreational paddling opportunity, one unduplicated anywhere, was impossible to replicate.
We insist that the unique bookended experience of starting with the dam and ending with the spectacular Hollywood rapid running into Lake Temiskaming was a unique whitewater paddling experience in the world. It is a world class attraction!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Attendee Two: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
So now what? What is going to happen?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Peter: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
The problem is political and the politicians are stone walling us.
The Navigable Waters Protection Branch Director even denied knowing about the problem and directs us to contact some obscure office in Halifax.
They want this problem to go away …but it is not going away. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We are taking the Federal Government to court.
We are going to do everything in our power that is lawful to keep our navigation rights.
We believe if navigation of the dam is preserved, the Kipawa will be guaranteed to have water running in it in future, for your grand children, and mine too.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Act Three </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Scene Two
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>The scene opens with Doug and Dave and Peter sitting in Dave’s living room in Montreal, a bit too much to drink and too tired.
</b></div><p><b>[Image of the Quebec Provincial flag is projected] </b></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Dave: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
I got a letter from the Quebec language police. They confirm that the correct spelling of LES AMIS DE LA RIVIERE KIPAWA should be in mixed case.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Peter: </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>(groans) </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">What the hell difference does it make? The legal name is one thing, we can call ourselves anything we want.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Les amis are both English and French, I myself was born in Quebec. That’s why we specifically used Upper Case.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Dave: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
But we want to be accepted in Quebec and they want Mixed case, Capital “L”, and Upper case on the “K” in Kipawa.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
That’s fuckin’ ridiculous, it is supposed to be UPPER Case
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Peter: </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Stop fighting, both of you, its pointless… Save your energy for the fight with Hydro Quebec.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug and Dave: </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[back and forth]
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Mixed CASE! …. UPPER CASE </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">damn it. … Mixed Case!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
… So we are going to court!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>All: </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
[Cheers!]
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> Woot! Woot!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Rob Monti has agreed to take on the case. I will be acting as the Director of River Preservation, and Jim Coffey will be our expert witness for discovery.
Jim has forgotten more about river running than most of us will ever learn.
Rob is a paddler, and he is sympathetic to our cause.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Its going take a lot of money.. a whole lot of spending money.. stenography, translation, its crazy.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
… and its going to take time, a whole lot of patience and time to do it right!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Dave: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
What about their contention that somebody got washed over the dam and was injured?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We have filed a protest letter on that, it was a drunken fisherman, not a whitewater paddler. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Derek: </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> And what about the engineer who said it wasn’t safe?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We’ve lodged a protest with the engineering society. It’s a hearsay opinion, there were no engineering calculations involved in that whatsoever. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Besides, his outboard konked out, the stupid fuck. He was okay, the boat was a write off but it wasn’t a whitewater kayak or raft it was an outboard!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"><b>[ Laughing]</b></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Whitewater Ontario has given us $10,000 to help us with this fight. It’s a great start to the legal defense fund.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">JD Mathieu has translated Scott’s book into French and is selling copies hand over fist. Scott has given the rights to Les amis. It has earned thousands so far.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We will be auctioning off donated paddling gear at the next rally.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">The money will come in, … it just has to.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Act Three</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Scene Three
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[The scene opens at Pete’s Dragon Rapid, Two paddlers are on the river, the spotlight again focuses on the paddler above]</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>They are in their kayaks this time and both come down the ramps. The river is projected on the screen behind them as well. They gather at the dock]</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[Image of Sadia Loney running main dam gate projected again]</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Good run, Its Miller Time.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Do you ever think that this might be the last time we ever get to do this? The Judicial Review is scheduled for next month. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">How is the discovery going?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Slow and steady. Jim has been stellar…but everything is slowed because it has to be translated into French.
Everything has to be covered in minute detail. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
We have to demonstrate that the dam was never approved, that we have been paddling the river for over 40 years, that it is important to the local community, that the dam and Hollywood Rapid form a unique bookended experience for paddlers from all around North American and the world.
They are going to claim that you were harassing them and use whatever tactic they can to win the case. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">The Justice Department lawyers <u>really play hard ball</u>, they need to win this and if they win the Navigable Waters Protection Act will be changed and forever take away the protections Canadians have enjoyed for years.
The current bureaucrat in charge sees this as his career moment, a feather in his cap by altering the Navigable Waters Protection Act.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Rob has built us a strong case. We are lucky he is a paddler and understands the issues but also has a passion for our cause.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Act Three</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Scene Four
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[The scene opens in the Federal court room. The judge is making his ruling on the case.]
</b></div><p><b>[Image of the Supreme Court building in Ottawa projected] </b></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Voice of Judge: spotlight is on Dias and judge
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Judge: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Concluding statement from the Defense</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p><b>[light comes up] </b></p><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Lawyer: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
…And even if you found that there was no risk to navigation on the Kipawa… this does not mean that the environmental review was improperly done.</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Did we listen to their concerns: The government has a room full of correspondence, I have never seen so many letters and email. So yes, we listened to their concerns.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">…and if the decision is a bad one, it is not illegal to make a bad decision!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">…and if they lose the right to navigate this one rapid, is it really significant?
The defense argues, it is not. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We have accommodated their right to navigation by providing a portage trail!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">ahhhh…. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;">[<b>slaps his hands and rubs his belly like he just finished a big meal. Light fades and spotlight on the judge]</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Judge: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
…So in conclusion I find for the defendant and award costs. I wish to compliment the plaintiff counsel for his excellent preparation…
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[Judge slams his gavel, Light on judge fades, light comes up on Pete and Doug]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Geezus we lost.
How on earth could we lose? he had come to this decision based on the facts? We’ll appeal.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[Light on them fades, light comes up on the judge]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Judge: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
The appeal court finds for the defense
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[gavel slams, spotlight on judge fades, Light on them fades, light comes up on the judge]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Geezus we lost again.
How on earth could we lose? he had come to this decision based on the facts? We’ll appeal to the supreme court…
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[Light on them fades, light comes up on the judge]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Judge: </b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
(yawns) </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
What’s for lunch?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p><b>[Light fades] </b></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Act Three</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Scene Five
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[The scene opens in a bar. Rob, Peter and Doug are having a beer and talking about the case. Doug has some surprising news]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Rob:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">First they said that navigating the dam was illegal. We proved that it was the dam that was illegal not the navigation of it.
Then they said it was unsafe. We proved that whitewater paddlers have been navigating the dam safely for over forty years.
Finally they said our running the river was insignificant. So, after everything, that’s the end of it. To say I am depleted is an understatement. Now with the recent Omnibus Bill the Navigable Waters Act was changed - with barely a word of debate. What a shame.</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug and Pete:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We know you did your best. Let’s drink to the Kipawa! Long may she run!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>[They clink glasses and take a good swig]
</b></div><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Well not exactly, after all the stress from the case, all the letters, emails, phone calls, meetings,… Susan kicked me out, and now we’ve got the legal bills to pay off otherwise Les Amis goes under. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Looks like more silent auctions and raffles! </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">All for what, they rebuilt the dam anyway.
And those bottom release gates: they are deadly for any boater.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Did you hear, Yvon Morin died, his widow blames us for it, too much stress from the case.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Doug: </b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Well I just heard that Tabaret is not going forward after all.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Pete and Rob:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Whah?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Doug:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Seems that the Province of Quebec has decided to establish a new National Park on the Kipawa River. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">They are calling it Opemican National Park!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Peter: </b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
That’s amazing news.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
Doug:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">And what do you know, they are putting the Kipawa river on the 20 dollar bill for Canada’s 150th Anniversary.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">…and now that they have opened the Opemican Provincial Park in Quebec, they are planning on building new a trail along the south bank of the river just like we always asked for. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We are getting almost everything we asked for… more.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Pete:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">There will be water flowing in the river for the foreseeable future. The Tabaret project is dead. That’s the main thing we were fighting for.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">But… was it because of our court case?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Rob:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Not sure what it was, the court case, the papers, the presentations, the publicity and all the bad press for Hydro Quebec. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">The letters? Who knows?
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">People are a lot more environmentally conscious these days ... more aware than when we started. </div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Peter:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We lost, but in the end, it was the river that won.
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>All:
</b></div><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Vivre la riviere Kipawa Libre!
</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p><b>[curtain falls]</b></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>
The END</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMtoJiU8FMFMRVSnMYIpmyZGFyHAC8bQskDJUSngkz7-Bf9CtTUXWoyIQMMwWcWfw5h0riu3H13CVPlWlFUki7vLQTDg3I3pPtdK0OrzZpbKg8uFfjqf3U7on8VLLZ_8CperThJ5ZoSBJS/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="468" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMtoJiU8FMFMRVSnMYIpmyZGFyHAC8bQskDJUSngkz7-Bf9CtTUXWoyIQMMwWcWfw5h0riu3H13CVPlWlFUki7vLQTDg3I3pPtdK0OrzZpbKg8uFfjqf3U7on8VLLZ_8CperThJ5ZoSBJS/" width="181" /></a></div><br /><br /></b></div>Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-30247569075581665912020-11-05T16:41:00.004-05:002020-11-05T16:42:48.987-05:00Paddling in the age of COVID-19<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGsGEURgAk2orQAuGLdDKcal4e8PDl2JLJp49B12yYJ5yWSuMM0MB2BvRcVv1rNa-tdGNW2g_ID4Q5jzCq14kZ695arodLJdIb7MfjvbEnyXwtitIwUdr7WOKf1HUuKbY7d8jav5_osHJ/s1080/COVID+Office.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGsGEURgAk2orQAuGLdDKcal4e8PDl2JLJp49B12yYJ5yWSuMM0MB2BvRcVv1rNa-tdGNW2g_ID4Q5jzCq14kZ695arodLJdIb7MfjvbEnyXwtitIwUdr7WOKf1HUuKbY7d8jav5_osHJ/s320/COVID+Office.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p>An important part of paddling is the shuttle.</p><p><br /></p><p>In order to maintain physical distancing, one pair decided to tape a plastic divider between the driver and the passenger.</p><p>Another group chose to shuttle but the windows are all open, and the occupants of the vehicle are wearing masks.</p><p>There are no high fives or handshakes in the age of Covid - 19.</p>Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-8316144747939479812018-08-11T17:17:00.000-04:002018-08-11T17:22:30.957-04:00The way we were**<br />
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Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-87379686702923782252018-08-11T11:39:00.000-04:002018-08-11T17:04:55.640-04:00Kipawa River Map<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/trailmap.bmp"><br /></a>
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Age 2004</div>
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Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-34406031411905139852018-08-11T11:22:00.001-04:002018-08-11T11:28:49.335-04:00The water cycle<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b>*<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: silver;">The snow capped peaks rising above the horizon reflecting the early morning sun tell a story of birth if one cares to listen to it. They speak of the great cycle of life and the source of life which is water. All living things require it. Once it gave rise to life itself in the murky depths somewhere a complicated of life giving cocktail of protein elements, chains of molecules formed. Simple peptides at first, mindless and driven by simple attraction and an uncanny symmetry. The frozen ice of those mountains had existed for who knows how long. Not as ice, perhaps once as the elixir of life of the desert some where in a balmy oasis. As the precious drops of rain feed a farmer's field or the lurid sweat borne of an uncontrollable heat under the fullest of moons. The sun, and overseer was to start a new dance one snow flake and ice crystal at a time. Some would perish immediately, sublimated into the ether. Vanishing with barely a lifespan. Many more, however, would live to brighter days, faster days, heady and powerful days upon a tortuous jouney to the sea, to once again join with their brethren. Warmed and liquified those begin that path of least resistance. Drawn down by the invisible forces only recently understood that power the very universe that is the mother of all. The path of the many through the history of time. Sliding down sleepy brethren, still in deep freeze, off icycle tips and off into the abyss, or soaked into a stone for another 1000 years. Other still in ice roll down, perhaps urged on bya climbers boot or a birds wing or the wind itself tumbled downwards, falling thousands of feet and diving into rivlets. Some say that the holy of holy, the Ghanga is the lifeblood of India. That would be correct for without it millions would surely die and many more, the great unwashed, would be even more unwashed. So it is in the cool morning air that disciples of the the water cycle start yet anouther day. High up in the head waters of Alaknanda and Bagarathi in the North Gharwal region deep in the foothills of the Himalyas. Home of the Gods. The objective was simple enough, or was it? While many would never consider leaving their home towns and the comfort of their precious television converters at least one would not be satisfied. Life had become toopredictable and threatened to become worst still, boring. There was, of course, a solution but a very personal one. Some would be content to start a hobby, needle point perhaps. But this solution was to go to India and not as a tourist but to paddle down the holy of holies itself and purge what otherwise would have become a life of no consequence. At least when that trip was done, no one could stay it had been a boring life, dead or alive the baggage that would be carried, memories held in the deepestand dimmest corridors would be as life giving as that mighty current. Why should it be that a choice made in the back of the mind should rise forth like that? The thoughts were part of the same lifegiving energy that created the river itself and were as old as time. Sticking to the old convenient way was never to be. Thats not the way of the universe after all. Uncommon is common. Unpredicatable is predictable. Going back in the history of men there were always those who would not be satisfied with a warmbed and a full belly. They craved for more and were plagued by vague desires, longing for adventure, for knowledge of what lay beyond the furthest horizon. Probably in full knowledge of the perils that accompanied such challenges, thirst, starvation and disease or an inhuman end, swallowed whole by a whale or impaled and pickled on the end of pigmie's stick. If it wasn't dangerous, if it wasn't potentially deadly well, ... it wouldn't be fun. Years previously in another life he had experienced those vague desires. Be careful what you wish for he thought, you just might get it. In his case in was a deceptively predictable existence behind a desk counting beans, and patient day trading death by starvation, or exposure with death of the spirit. In this world, nothing is free and abundant save for the perils that surround all men. At the young age of 23 sitting behind a desk many would have been more deserving and certainly more appreciative which is true of any thing that falls on one's lap. Isn't it typical that we devalue the things that come too easily, devalued because a total lack of perspective. The simplest things of all are devalued, fresh air, fresh water, a private moment. That desk was devalued and as a result it was held in contempt but it was also the basis for the source of the challenge. It was the origin the idea which was to paddle the Ganga.</span></b></span><br />
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Somewhere in the great state of Texas a family compact had done for itself in the silver market. The price of the metal had been so devalued over time that the brothers Hunt had decided to buy up about as much as they could, a scheme called "cornering the market". Predictably the price of silver went through the roof. When the price of anything goes through the roof things start to happen. Gone are the appearances of decorum, the most demure and well manicured will go quite looney. Its not the kind of reaction you'd get when the price of say, wheat germ went up a cent or two a bushel. Silver was another storey for it had uses and applications far beyond the necessities of life, being forged into currency, or plated to glass as mirrors. But more than any of this were the pictures. Silver was the basis of photography, not just the grainy little 5x7's most of us see but the big foreboding images left by high energy particles passing through the human body, slowing ever so slightly and then energizing silver nitrates on sheets of mylar plastic. These x-rays used huge amounts of silver which, most ironically would be washed away in the developing process.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">When the Hunts decided to stamp their name on the silver market, the price of tea in china was considerably lower. The value of silver rose from a paltry $2.38 a troy ounze to well over $50 dollars US an ounze. Everything made of silver became expensive. The value of silver coinage exceeded its face value. Coins were gathered. Dusty old collections of dimes and quarters, pre '66 mostly were bartered and sold to the foundries. It was a hell of time. That's what brought Roger to Kirkland lake.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Roger Chadha, probably his first name was not really Rodger, it may very well have been Rajha since he was India and he was a devote and practicing Hindu. He had been in Canada only a short while and secured suitable employment in the field of silver recovery with the Ontario firm of Fischer and Goldsbie, a licensed founder of precious and recovered metals. Thats what brought Rajha to the town with no Lake back in 1981.Once fairly dark evening in December it was that he had arrived on a typcial northern swing, scoopingthe blackened silver crystalite off the anodes of the silver reclaiming units he had plugged in to the developers of almost every radiology department in every clinc and hospital in Northern Ontario. A dirty job to say the least the hypochlorate was acidicand toxic. It probably would have killed him if he did it for too long. There in lies the irony of working in and around hospitals. Oddly, they are the worst place to be if you want to stay healthy.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">His swings though the north country in his cargo van were timed to arrive late at night so as not to be bothered by hospital officials and his cargo was getting more and more valuable thanks to the hijinks of Bunker Hunt and family. More or less at this time our hero was finishing up another late night of hisapprenticeship as Financial Director and chief bean counter. He had been reading about the silver market fluctuations and its effect on the price of radiograph supplies and films and was interested in finding out what was happening right under his own nose and before long had Rajha sitting in front of him somewhat sheepish and almost bemused that anybody would be taking the time to intercept him at that late hour, precisely the reason he was there at that hour! It came to pass that the details of the business relationship were revealed. Basically there were no details. The hospital would receive "a share" of the recovered material in the form of a monthly cheque. The weight of the recovered material was provided by F&G, as was the assay and trust was paramount. But at fifteen past midnight trust didn't seem to ring in too true to the bean counter.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That was the beginning of an interesting relationship between the silver runner and the bean counter. On every subsequent trip to the hospital he would always stop in before extracting his payload and have a chat and with time and conversation the visits became as rewarding as the silver business and a friendship was forged. Rajha told stories of his life in India, of his family and of his desire to leave the silver business. The bean counter took steps to help him do so and it mattered not that those steps were unsuccessful. As usual the simple act of attempting to do so was all that mattered. It was during one conversation that the subject of traveling to India came up. For one that had left to find a better life it seemed odd indeed that another, sitting behind the desk would wish to go there. Still it was the wish and it fostered a respect from the other and a sign that parochial thought had long since flown the coop. Rajha, a devote Hindu encourage spoke as though it was written on the wall overhead that one day they would meet there together. It was Kharma he said. If it was meant to be, it was to me. And somehow he know it was.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Years later, advanced from Bean Counter to Hospital Director from hospital to another our hero had fallen into a kind of personal hell of professional success and spiritual hell, surrounded by catholic ninnies and adult children of alchoholics. He worked minutes away from one ofthe country's finished whitewater paddling schools and no one who lived in the locality paddled preferring softball and golf in the summer, snowmobiling and bingo in the winter. Polish and Irish rivalries had been continued since the lumber boom of the mid 1800's when these rough hew immigrant's arrived in Renfrew country to develop what was to become the great rural slum of Ontario each with their own septic, well and garbage dump surrounded by stone or split rail fences. That hospital had been the stagefor a great many human plays and it was once again set for another. Physicians had grown tired of working on call at the hospital's emergency department through the weekend leashed to that dreary facility by their pagers, family life in tatters and sleep deprived they had decided that enough was enough. They needed more money to pay for locum tenens to come and take those shifts and give them the rest they needed. The price tag, $1000 a night, about $500,000 a year with transportation and lodging thrown into the mix. In the past the provincial goverment was likely to have thrown money at the problem to make it "go away" but in those heady days the common sense revolution was at the doorstep in the final hours of the NDP goverment and no money was coming. Rather, the hospital was left hanging out to dry and left to find 10% of its budget to pay for the priviledge of having a physician sit and twiddle their thumbs seven days a week until something more than a fishhook in the cheek necessitated transport ofa true patient by helicopter to Ottawa, or even Pembroke or Renfrew.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">And so it was that our hero, sat in his office on night and hatch a plan to solve his problem. He would reorganize himself out a job, take his golden parachute and go elsewhere. It didn't take long to roll together. Upon releasing the plan which called for transforming the community hospital into a glorified nursing station administered by a much larger facility out of the district the board met predictably and gave him his walking papers, and cash.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Well that was a solution but a source of another problem. Over the years that bean counter turned administrator had married and had two children who had become accustomed to a very comfortable living. While the bean counter was out slaying fiscal mismanagement and departmental skulldudgery there were side trips to the local school and latte’s at the corner coffee and pastisserie. These things are the essence of luxury. Its one thing to enjoy these things with a well padded income but psychology is so important here. Live a life of hardship, hard work, hard play and hard living in general one takes these things for granted, possibly seeing another life through glimpses on TV or in speaking to others but generally accepting one’s lot. We trained from an early age to do this. The same is true for other income brackets. The trick is adjusting. Living with less takes such adjustments. It can be done but the transition between having and not having is an education in itself fraught with self doubt, difficulties and adjustments.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Fortuneately, humans are, in general, uniquely qualified to adapt and adjust. Many of course are not but in this case the adaptation took about five years. After the golden parachute openned up its glorious and shimmering billows of protection one had to consider what would happen next. A few letters of application to different propective employers had brought predictable responses. Vague descriptions of other candidates, more qualified and more suitable. It was the beginning of a litany of similar such correspondence. Desperation had not really set in at that point, rather, a cheerful disdain for the process and not much else. It was a golden age then and had the right choices been made things could have turned out very differently, except for a summer vacation.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The body moves towards what the mind secretly dwells upon. Day by day one makes choices and decisions based on one’s subconscious beliefs.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Our hero had been born and raised in a small town of ill repute. Clinging link a barnacle to the northeast tip of Lake of the Woods near the Manitoba /Ontario Border a dim little hamlet known as Kenora. Kenora had been like so many other northern communities a place of respite for hardy voyageurs and fur traders. In the early years, it was known as Rat Portage a place very near the source of the Winnipeg River. Water that would at some point find its way to HudsonBay and ultimately the Arctic Ocean. In those days despite the paddle against the current, the Winnipeg river was a means of transport from the north country. Around 1865 the Canadian Pacific Railway was making its way through that region and Rat Portage was the de facto place to unwind and party down, filled with brothels and whiskey houses.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In his early years our hero had discovered many an ex brothel. If they were still standing the grand houses with large trees and usually unruly grounds had been the home to beautiful women. One house, owned by the Rapinda family before in was finally torn down and relegated to the ancient memories found only in the homes for the aged had been a particularly rewarding find. Not the house itself mind you but the dump found not more than fifty feet away from the back door. It was here that the grass clippings, lamp parts, and bottles were pitched and placed firmly out of mind ast they gayly sailed down into the ravene with every good chuck. The bottles were what brough them to the site and they operated much like archeologiest on an ancient dig site, careful with their tools and careful with their booty which usually included old liquor bottles of all sorts, and tiny opium bottles, countless Mum’s Champagne bottles, each over a hundred years old, and his favorite, patent medicine bottles. The names of these were often clearly embossed in the glass. Promisary concoctions with names like Lydia Pickham’s Medicinal Compound, Kickaoo Indian Oil, and Thompson’s Electric Oilfor Consumption. There were some beautiful cobalt blue bottles for Milk of Magnesia but the truly facinating ones were those that at one time contained poison. Usually triagular shaped sites with knurled patterns to make them clearly distinguishable fromall others, by dim lamp lite and by feel.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The trip back to Kenora from Killaloe in Renfrew Country is a long and ass squaring marathon. The distant is probably over nine hundred miles and the road itself offers up two options, well there is a third the the two main ones are westward at Northbay spliting to hiway eleven to the north and hiway 17 to the west, two routes which would eventually join at Nipigon. Either way the route is two laned and uncomfortable with bad shoulders, a lack of passing lanes, often frost heaved and depending on the time of year slowed by cars pulling trailers with boats and motores or recreational vehicles. In winter, transport trucks picking up even residual snow flakes and making the car lights burst forth with an localized snowstorm.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">After three days of driving you’d be happy to arrive, collapse on a sofa, take the beer, the remote control for the television and simply decompress. This was how the two week vacation to Kenora began but it was not how it ended, it ended, well or badly depending on who would ultimately tell the tale. In this case probably well. The sister and brother and law had returned from Saudia Arabia with the prodical son about eight years earlier and had finally decided to build their home about two years earlier. A massive structure all on one level with a crawl space and attention to expensive detail. Thats where the four travelers stayed and it was to be two weeks. But something happened during that visit which was to defy logic and ulitmately lead to heartache and dispair. The wife had missed the small town life, having been born and raised in the tritown of eastern ontario. Kenora offered up possibilities of a new life and possibly a rewarding one with a small business and a life among family. Her husband’s surviving parent had offered property and what seemed to be a high price but one which could be paid over time - really an exchange of land for natural love and affection as the lawyer pointed out. The plan was hatched to protract the vacation into apermanent arrangement with them staying in that massive house until another was built accross the street. Mistakes were made to be sure in decisions and in actions but the intention was sincere and bold and that is where the story narrows. A temporary employment in town turned out badly for our hero who was paid basically to warm a seat and watch others do the same in return for cash flow from the goverment. It was painful to watch from the inside. Board meetings held in Winnipeg for no other reason than to travel, wine and dine at the expense of the government. Trips to Bemijii in the Minnesota, where coincidentally there was a rather nice casino, trips to Fort Frances, - well okay may that was all right. There was no obvious reason why they didn’t meet on the reserve. Reserves were the Canadian govermenments answer to South African Apartheid. Segregation of the ultimate order. Of course, the subjucants weren’t buying and so the board meetings often were held in the Inn on the Woods board room rather than the high school auditorium.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But that was another life, suffice to say that the fast track in native self goverment wasn’t his cup of tea. So there, poised on the brink of new home construction a plan was devised to start a small business selling and installing polystyrene insulated concrete forming and build the family home using that product as a show home. He’d never built anything larger than a dog house. That fall was spent brushing the land and commissioning a catapillar to come in and dig a bunch of holes to see what was under piles of clay, moss and deadfall. It turned out to be more clay and boulders the size of a pick up truck. Watching the cat operator haul those massive stones out of the goop was truly a sight to behold. One after another heextracted them and laid them down like pearls along the prospective roadway as another operator ploughed the clay with a small bulldozer. Until finally, $3500 lighter they had prepared a circular driveway, a clearing for the septic field and a deep holein the ground where the main building would go. It was filling up quickly with water.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The winter was settling in and construction was basically put on the back burner. Thoughts turned to would could be and what would be. Thoughts of past dreams and future hopes. Thoughts of India. The plan was announced and greeted with immediate rejection. Promises of banking the money, saving it for a future day but the knowledge of how home building projects suck such funds up had sealed the idea. The plan was to travel to India in February, travel to the North Gharwal regionand kayak down the Ganges and its headwaters. The accessory in this plan was to be an old friend and past paddling acquaintance but was going to proceed whether or not he finally made the trip. In preparation for the journey Visa’s had to be arranged, hepatitis vaccinations obtained, marlaria drugs initiated, passports updated and airfare tickets purchased. Once the tickets were purchased there was no going back. They were purchased immediately.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The thought occured that Rajha was still out there somewhere and steps were made to find him. He had long since left the employ of F&G and the intrepid traveler had met with him only once a few years back in Brampton while attending a convention of the Ontario Hospital Association.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The Ontario Hospital Association had been crying poverty for the last fifteen years. He remembered the irony attending his first meeting in Toronto and visiting the chiseled limestone line main meeting room and perceiving that the shortage of funds did not exist with the association. It was at a province wide convention he now attended and Rajha had picked him up at the airport and delivered him to his home for an authentic India supper. He was master of the home and had order everything to be just so. The dinner was followed by a viewing of authentic India movies, India being the world’s leading producer of moving pictures. They are strange to the north american viewer, filled with singing and dancing, always with a heroine and standard hero’s and protagonists, an expression of a way of life and a wish for the future - all in intelligible hindi so Rajha explained everything with a smile.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Thinking back, Rajha had explained about his plan to import India carpets and he owned a shop in Brampton where these were sold. He also published a newsletter called the News, view and music of India. That was the connection that our Indian Paddler used. Information rapidly gave the number for the newletter’s office and within minutes he was on the phone and asking what he was doing in February. “Going on a buying trip to India” was the reply with kharmic irony. After all these years they were going to meet in New Delhi at Rajha’s brother -in-laws middle hotel in Karol Bahg. That was how they were to meet. The date was set and all that remained was the rendevous.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Leaving Canada in the winter for some warmer climate is a pleasure many Canadians seek. Often the mind set is unidirectionial - towards Florida. But a 360 degree turn around the globe is a quick refresher on the options available at that latitude in the Northern and Southern Hemisphere. They are many. The only thing that separates the average Canuk from them is cold hard cash of which there is always a short supply.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">And so it was with great satisfaction that the sound of the landing gears retracting and the characteristic pressing of the back into the armchair was received. Outside the temperature on the ground had been about -50C just walking from the car to the terminal building. Inside it was warm but not as warm as the visions of the next five weeks, of the adventures to come and the places to be seen. Stowed below were a single duffel bag filled with take down paddle and dry suit, sleeping bag and all manner of paddling paraphernalia. Only a short stop off in Toronto to meet up with his paddling partner remained.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The short and bearded fellow he met in Toronto was a deceptively youthful 53 year old who had been falling out of airplanes in California when the other had still been in diapers. A born adrenaline junkie of the first class., he had taken up kayaking on a trip to Kirkland Lake years previously an invitation of NOLAC, the Northern Ontario Liquid Adventurer’s Club. A group of them, including our hero, had visited on February weekend. Four six footers managed to cram into the pathetically powered Ford Mustang Two on route to the annual Toronto Boat Show. It was a cold and uncharacteristically Foggy winter day and the madman who was left to drive could not see fifty metres ahead. The strategy was to simply hit the shoulder periodically toensure that the vehicle was driving in a straight line. Miraculously the foursome arrive intact and without incident around midnight, traipst through one building, two livingrooms and kitchens to arrive at the appointed crash joint. Crash they did bedrooms, couches and floor in preparation for the next days equipment purchasing expedition.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That was how the two had met and had formed firm friends over the years with many business trips to the city from the various healthcare outposts that had been assumed. This was to the culmination. Naturally he was late, had forgotten his ticket and possessed an out of date passport. Things were progressing normally.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Within the hour they were airborn again and on route to heathrow international airport for a quick stop then on again to barcelona and finally New Delhi. The trip was to take about 23 hours and they arrived in New Delhi about 3:00 in the morning.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Traveling by jet sucks the life out of the traveller. The air is bad, the food is no compensation for rest and the lights keep going on and off. People take their shoes off, and often should leave them on, Consider the shoes that are killing them if removed could very easily cause the death of others. And airlines are carefully jamming passengers into their airborn tin cans to maximize revenue not comfort safe for the priviledged few who only travel first class. For our intrepid travelers, the exciting and anticipation are enough of overcome the discomfort of the trip, besides it was to harden them for worse to come.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One of the most elementary differences experienced on the international flight was the level of security they encountered outside of Canada. In Canada one could board a flight with carry on luggage barely supervised by security authorities save for the once over with the magic wands. The story is considerably different in other international airports where certainly no bag could be left unattended in an airport for few of explosive device. Of course now any bag could be suspcious given the penchant for certain muslim extremists to dispatch themselves and others simultaneously. But it points out the convenience afforded when traveling in pairs and especially those laden with whitewater paddling gear. At least with two, one can stay behind and watch the bags while the other gets the food or whatever. Of course you have twice the cargo, a problem which presented itself significantly that morning.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">New Delhi is a big city to say the least but its no new York, it is a city that sleeps, especially at three o’clock in the morning. While the two had been greeted at the airport by the proprietor of Snow Leopard expeditions coincidentally to greet a great and retired Scottsman former policeman they had learned of the general directions to their destination in Karol Bagh. They were to meet him in a couple of days and take an organized bus north but for the meantime, chose to board a city bus, still running and head in the general direction then rummage up one of the many threewheeled wonder bikes coursing through the cities veins an any given moment.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The initial ride on the bus was wonder in itself. This was a city like no other. In the depths of February the air was dry, this was the dry season, and the temperature even then was moderately mild, almost balmy. Everywhere was life - asleep on the streets, whereever a body could lay, there they were. This was India and everything was both old and new but never boring.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They found the best approach was to take the city bus, very inexpensive in a city that ran on Rupees and illegal US dollars. The exchange rate was roughly 25 rupees for Canadian Dollar and in India one could buy a cup of tea for about 2 rupees, or 10cents. That was to be the story. The most expensive part of the journey would be the getting there and afterwards and struggle to spend what was taken as meagre as those funds were. Of the bus at the Continental Circle a three wheeler was roused from peaceful sleep and the duffels were loaded onto the roof of the cab. Each of the travelers reached out with an arm and grabbed hold and off they went into the night. Even without traffic the trip seemed an interminable looping through this side street then that rounding corners enough to make it seem they were riding in circles, which in retrospect was probably happening. Never mind, there was no meter, just a rough reconoitering and dead reckoning until improbably they landed at the front steps of the Hotel Classic. Needless to say, the front gates were closed, with the proprieter lying fast asleep on the lobby couch.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">With a few rattles of the gate and enthusiasm the cabby was paid and asked to return at a specified hour in the next day. They had arrived and escorted to their room up marble stairs and exotic sculptures to the large bed where the two summarily crashed for the night</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In dreams we see what the mind sees but does not tell us in the waking hours.In dreams all things are possible. We enter the lioness’s den and are consumed by seduction and by passion. All inhibitions are stripped away and as we sucumb to pure lust and pure ecstasy. What dreams consumed those weary travellers under them home skies would barely scratch the surface of those to be had under those foreign stars aided and abetted by the sights, sounds and smells of such exotica.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That night the dreams were filled with such apparitions, of women, not pretty but wanting. Dark and sultry eyes and hands pulling at buckles and zippers with efficiency and skill born of years of experience. Exotic dreams in an exotic land in the minds of two, both too weary to resist them. But too early the sun rose and with it the dawning of the light on their adventure. First the task was to meet Rajha.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Rajha was a businessman and he was in India to do business. He was an efficient traveler and had brought only what he needed. His first warning to our intrepid one was to carry as little cash as possibly warning the 1000 rupees was a fortune in India. They walked together that morning and enjoyed a cup of Chai, scented and sweetend Indiatea, boiled in the the milk in which it was served. In time the two shook hands and marveled at the fulfilment of the pact that had been forged years earlier. There they stood, in Delhi, as if in another dream, one that had come true. Later, basking inthe glow of that accomplishment they walked in the memorial Garden to Mahatma Ghandi surrounded by rare plants. They walked with other early risers along the stone pathway that snaked through the memorial garden, pausing in silence from time to time to soak the vibes up and simply enjoy the peace of the place.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Rajha has business to do and the two had places to go. This meeting was not the purpose of the trip but a delightful side piece to the exercise, They went back to the hotel and enjoyed some local beer. Hindi’s are to abstain from alcohol but a blind eye and tolerance is afforded the beer drinker especially if drunkeness is not displayed. Its surprising considering that the beer is potent and served in very large bottles in locations where it is dispensed more like a pharmaceutical than an actual recreational beverage. The two sat together in Rajha’s room and consumed a couple until they were both feeling quite at ease, and after a shaking of the hands they parted.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The paddling partner, never at aloss for something interest to occupy him had made arrangements to meet up with Ajeet Baggag , proprietor of Snow Leopard. Our hero had met him years earlier on a raft on the Ottawa River. He had come to Canada to learn how to operatea tourist raft in preparation for the launch of his own wilderness trips on the Alaknanda and other first descent rivers of India. He had become the defacto expert on river running and safety in India and was the government’s designated resource for that purpose which had its advantages. The first plan was to enjoy the rest of the next few days in New Delhi which would start off with a tour of the city’s ancient installations, the Red Fort, the time museum and craft museum. It was a satisfyinginterlude and like all sites in India a visual and sensory feast. The magnificent Red Fort from antiquity, built thousands of years before these visitors had arrived. Its massive stone walls over 50 feet thick rising out of the dusty banks of the Yamuna river encircle a secure area along its five mile length. The wealth and power it represented is echoed only by the power and wealth we see today in our large modern cities, many of which would not last as long no doubt. Time will tell.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In days of old, the great leaders of city states of India included those that had visions of grandeur. None of these was greater than the architecturally inclined Shah Jahan. It was the Shah that designed and built the Red fort in preparation for the master piece that is the Taj Mahal, found in Agra along the banks of the Yamuna. When his wife died, it was built as her masoleum and remains today as her crypt. It is a crypt for sure, but like no other in the world, a muslim tribute to the fine stone cutters and craftsmen that have vanished into antiquity. Inlaid precious and semiprecious stones grace its smooth white marble surfaces at every turn. Its precise construction and esthetic symmetry are a marvel of ancient constrution techniques. It is but one of the many and facinating sites that greet the intrepid travelers on their journey. More of that later.</span></b></div>
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<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b>kayaky </b></span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b>back to the top</b></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 2"></a>Chapter Two</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In search of Purity</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The brief tour of the architectural installations of antiquity was not the reason for coming to India, more of a side note and a setting of the stage so to speak. But moving around the city, whether it be by Tata commuter bus or via three wheeled Bajaj taxis the impression that India was a country on the move was unmistakeable. There was a sense of excitement and energy - a sense of urgency that things had to get done. The net effect was organized confusion. It is said that if the English discovered the notion of bureaucracy then the Indian's perfected it. Like so many other cultural influences that entered into this portion of the asian subcontinent the locals looked at it, perhaps have it a sniff and if they liked it, then proceeded to consume it or reject it, all the while maintaining its own distinctive approach to things. In all, the tour consumed us, with the Red fort, the astronumical lab, mayamar’s tomb, Quetap minor, India Gate and the Presidential Palace, and of course, Ghandi’s tomb.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The net effect to a newcomer to this place is the tendency towards whiplash with the vigorous "What's that" or "look at that" or possbily "what's going on over there". The senses are overpowered. True, English is prevalent but Hindi is predominant so the air is filled with unintelligible words, phrases and sounds. The food is basic fare usually, and in the country setting even more so. India is a country which feeds itself, no mean feat for a population of over a billion and a birth rate of 50 million a month. Still, based on rice, califlower, lentils, cabbage, tomatoes, potatoes to which is added copious quantities of spice, primarily tarragon and coriander but also ginger, garlic, green fennel, fenugreek to name a few. Everywhere there are pervasive strip malls, improbable concrete structures no more than twenty feet wide linked by common walls and secured by a rolling garage type door or security gate of one type or another. The products are remarkably similar, motorcyle helmets, cookware, fabrics, newsshops, grocers, spice shops filled with bins of ground and coarse spices. All of these are surrounded by endless arrays of flags, banners, signs in brilliant colours directing the passersby in this direction or that.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Little wonder that after a day of that, and the maddening traffic one would want to seek excitement of a different sort.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">There is a twelve hour differential between Central Canada and New Delhi. The effects of the flight and the jet lag left one with a buzz. I wondered if the Hindi religion was created by somebody experiencing a similar one. The story of krishna is thousands of years old and to the uninitiated may sound quite hokey. Krishna, it is said, lifted the hillside. Krishna, can do anything, including splitting himself into many (the original cloning) in order to dance with a group of virgins all at the same time. (doesn’t that seem like an odd thing for a diety to do?) Krisha it is said killed the evil king. This fellow was really more of a “Super Mario Brother”. Of course, westerners don’t actually worship Super Mario the way the devout Hindu’s worship Krishna.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Still the mind buzzed onward examining the reasons for taking the trip, happy to be doing something adventurous and felling strongly that the opportunity once presenting itself doesn’t not likely emerge again.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Ordinary sights started to look slightly bizarre. While waiting at the Connaught Circus, witness some sikh cab drivers disassembling an ambassador, lifting the engine right out the engine compartment on the street and doing a head gasket repair. In India, all the best mechanics are sikhs, and so are most of the best bus drivers. That evening, the plan was to attend the sound and light show at the great red fort that was visited during the day which is what they did, and following that, half in the bag went to a fine restaurant.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It was at the restaurant that they finally met up with Ajeet and plans were made to head up to Rishikesh the following morning for lack of a better plan and need for more rest. Up the next morning at O - dark hundred, the account at the Hotel Classic rang in at about $15 each or $30 per night which seemed reasonable considering the accommodation, however, that turned out to be the hiwater mark for accommodations to come. In a parting shot from the keeper, we were handed some dry toast as we headed out the door and into a bajaj. After a short 35 minute jaunt the two arrived at the gate of the US Compound where members of the United States International Development Agency were already waiting out front to meet the bus organized by Ajeet and Snow Leopard Expeditions.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">There were about 36 on the bus in various states of consciousness as it rolled along to the north of New Delhi through more or less continuous development. the pervasive strip malls, with signs either in English or Hindi. Around lunch time the coach pulled over at a fairly sophistiated looking way station which featured a large foyer with private areas for dining, inside and outside. Grabbing a couple of the local softdrinks was the first priority, fearing dire consequences if an untreated water were consumed and the resulting “Delhi Belly”. A quaint term with much less quaint symptoms. The victim usually experiences diarhea in combination with vomiting and ultimately dry retching and dry heaves until finally the body has purged both ends and the victim prays for death prior to a slow recovery, hopefully somewhat the wiser for the experience.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">LIMCA and Campca Cola turned out to be made from distilled water and fairly reliable. If nothing else the microbes would be of the weakened variety and at least would give the body a chance to adjust to the things.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">On route to Rishikesh the main city in transit is Hardwar. At that point it was possible to see tthe mountains which rise starkly from the Gangess plain. The snow caps were already at the 21,000 foot level. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">As the bus approached Rishikesh the roads became narrower and more harrowing. Still the driving was a hilight. Traffic moved on the left side of the road in the tradition of the British. Buses pass each other with what appears to be only inches to spare, only Kharma actually preventing the collision. The passengers slowly grow accustomed to the impression that a collision in imminent, and soon become as complacent with the near misses as the drivers appeared to have been all along.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Landing at the base camp just to the north of Rishikesh shortly pass 2:00 o’clock made the early start a bit more tolerable.. The Snow Leopard campe was located right on the bank of the river just down from the highway. To access it it was necessary to carefully climb down a 100 foot embankment but the camp itself was located on a high water plain or shelf. It was obvious that the Ganges was at low water, this was the dry season aferall. The river water appeared clear and greenish in colour from the sandy bottom. The campsite was nestled in the foothills of the himalyas. While two other companies were operating in the vicinity they were by and large out of site and out of mind, spaced far enough away not to affect the ambience afforded at Snow Leopard.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The camp consisted fof about 26 prospector style tends without floors forming a long line, sweeping from a large canopy tent made from an old silk parachute. At the other end of the sweep of tents were the all important toilets. Basically they were field pits but modify to actually hold the waste with water passing through a sand filter in a vague acknowledgment to the environment. Down stream, however, it was well known that all hell was breaking loose on the envirment and going to hell in a hand basket.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The two claimed accommodation in one of the tents, noticing that each tent had been carefully named with the name of an Indian River. Theirs was named “Bhagarathi” one of the two head waters of the Ganges. Interior to the tents wert a couple of folding cots and not much else. It was to be their temporary home. Stepping out they were greeted by “Mushroom” a Kiwi raft guide. Kiwi was a young engineer, specializing in ISO standards who had dropped out to experience a little more of life. He was sun burnt and his long sandy hair was curled and split from abuse but he appeared to be fine with it. No choice in the matter really, given the bar soap that was a luxury. He directed them to their rental boats. Our hero gave a yellow dancer a try but found ultimately it was unsatisfactory. The first attempt at accessing the water was awkward but a good preliminary warmup for the next day. The rapids at the start of the route were very straight forward except for the run known as “the golf course” as it was full of holes. It had a dog leg left an a large hydraulic hole dead center. All the other rapids were less demanding. Paddling through them all quickly the trip led them into Rishikesh. Monkies could be seen frmo the shore and the ashroms, huge multistoried buildings designed to house disciples of the Hindu faith, one said to have house the Beatles rock group in the late sixties. Stopping for acouple of souvenir pictures then paddling on to the take out, boulder yard where stood a rather elderly lady who had set up a chai (tea) stand. The water she was using was right out of the river. Truly, the water looked clear,... but was not to be trusted as clean. She had been boiling it using a small kerosene stove and the rule of thumb of a ten minute boil was improbably , but the thirst from the paddle was starting to become considerable so the chance was taken.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Indian Chai is made from unpasturized milk and water with considerable amounts of sugar, star anise and corriander. It is aromatic and flavourfully refreshing at the end of a two hour paddle. To make the chai they learned is a simple matter. Take some raunchy water and goat or cow’s milk. Add ample sugar, black tea and spices and then boil the mixture like hell for about ten minutes - if you are lucky. This is done all in one pot. The contents is strained as it is poured, usually into glasses.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Others soon gather, who turned out to be from the shuttle bus sent by Snow Leopard. One of the more gregarious turned out to be a fellow from Scotland, Ron Day, a 30 year veteran, recently retired from the police force.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That evening the best thing to do was not paddle but rather sit around a roaring campfire of driftwood listening to a cacaphony of foreign languages and the bagpipe like insturment bleating out some kind of Nepalese tune.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Many of the guests around the fire were with the USID, international development agency and were true globe trotters. They had joined the group for a day trip on the Ganges </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The opening paddle had been on odd experience and drifting off to sleep our travelers were no double curious as to why of all things their facial muscles were aching , never realizing at that moment that it was the act of keeping their mouths tightly closed so as not to imbibe in untreated water from the Ganges was their primary concern that first paddle.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One of the boats had proved to be inadequate and another was to be rented, a blue Italian made Dancer with bulkheaded foot rest rather than the traditional footpegs. The boat was of an advanced design, with a keyhole cockpit designed to allow the paddler to raise his knees up without actually lifing the behind out of the seat. It was an effective way to minimize the danger of entrapment so common in earlier designs. While the boats’backband was missing the overall package would be suitable for the expedition to come.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next day, the new boats were tried on the same run to Rishikesh. The initial awkwardness was now lifting and the run was actually enjoyable. Accompanied by the rafts this trip down afforded an extra measure of safety and therefore confidence. The weather, however, had been cloudy unlike the sun from the previous day, and many of the rafters were cold and tired. Dressed in their dry suit bunny liners both intrepid paddlers slipped into their sleeping bags and drifted off. That night blissful sleep overtook them, the first full nights rest in about three days was greatly needed.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next morning was cool and cloudy, an inauspicious start of the trek to Theri where the expedition would launch on the ‘Bhag’ river. Rising at 06:00 the sun was not yet about the foothills. The rest had been peaceful and fulfilling. It had rained and drizzled throughout the night. Lying snug in the prospector tent named Bhagarathi was a comfort, and the sound of the Ganges rapids so close to the base camp was tranquilizing, Dreams were of the exciting challenges that lay ahead.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Preparations for the trip were limited as both food and shelter would be provided by Snowleopard and carried by the support raft and a support jeep vehicle. Only dry cloths and toiletries were needed in addtion to the paddling gear they would be using. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">As the day progressed the drizzle that had started during the evening also progressing into rain. They were heading north and into the mountains, higher and higher and with the altitude, it also grew colder. By the time the shuttle jeep ( Mahindra) reached Deoprayag (Confluence of the Gods) where the Bhagharathi and Alaknanda rivers join to form the Ganges the rain was considerable and stargint to soak their dry cloths through the feeble shelter afforded by the canvas jeep canopy. The way good progressvily steeper with rhythmic horn beep and sharp turn to the left and a rhythmic beep and sharp turn to the right, and so it went for four and a half hours. The only thing that seemed to stop the motion sickness that was bound to occur was the glimpses of spectacular scenery terraced slopes on three thousand foot drops down to the river bed below.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Along the route were stands of refreshements. The fare was a concoction known as Berphy, a mix of condensed milk with the consistency of HALVA. Finally the entourage reached Theri.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Theri is a slum bucket of a village where two major roads intersect and meet at the bus stop. It was the site of a major damming project. The dam had not yet been completed but the result of the dam would be to flood out large portions of the town of Theri. In the town Russians provided technical aid to the project. They created the stark transition to the scenic mountains that had been enjoyed up until that point Roads were blasted out to service the construction sites. The construction sites served as poor replacements for the agricultural terracing that had been. But India was a country on the move and needed the electric power to drive its growing economy.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The plan was to camp at the mouth of the river, and it was partially raining and sleeting at the same time. The air was very cold and damp and the travelers and members of the Snow Leopard rafting expedition were tired and wet. The only real cover was by a concrete shed with a tin roof that was put up at the construction site to house either cement powder or perhaps explosives - it mattered not, that’s where they planned to stay overnight, right there on the dirt floor of the place, lined up in such a way to have the sleeping bags fall under the cracks of the tin roof.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">By the time the convoy had stopped the rain and sleet was merciless. There was also a danger of mudslide and rock fall as the banks around the put in were steep and loose from the construction activities. Rather than putting in that afternoon as was the original plan the decision was made to stay in that tin shed. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Huddled inside, somehow a fire was started and caused shadows to flicker against the cinder block walls. Dan Roy, the Scot had miraculously thought enough to bring a refreshment, rare in India. “ a wee bit o Dram.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The team members included raft guides and sherpas, Austa, asum, Nigi, and Nakol. The Rafters would include Ajeet Bajaj, owner,operator of Snow Leopard, Ron Day the scot, and Keschar Jain , an industrialist from Deli and friend of Ajeet. The supported paddllers included Gerry Bedard, our hero, Jeb Allison of Project Raft and don Wheaton, a US aid worker.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Jeb Allison was the organizer of “Project Raft” an environmental agency that organized rafting competitions on endangered river sites. He was surveying the Bhag river with a mind to organiziing an event there inthe near future.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Environmental issues are becoming more prominent in India. Delhi itself is recognized as being the third most polluted in the world after Mexico City . </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next morning, the sky was still grey and clouded. That would be a cold way to start the day but there was a promise of clearing as the morning progressed and that would be a welcomed change when it arrived.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The put in was an improbably climb to the waters edge from the top of the ramparts of the dam in progress. Bits of Reinforcing rod protruded from the cement inprogress. Down stream was barely visible, just crashing waves and rapids as the river retreated around a dogleg to the right. Along the shoreline were smaller boulders and rubble from countless rockslides invoked by the construction. Periodically rocks would bounce down from on high making the kayak helmets to be worn, doubly useful against rocks above and below the waterline.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The grou pset off, four kayaks, and a raft after a substantial breakfast of oatmeal and banana with a cheese omlette and, of course the customary Chai. Winding down river, handling successvie class two rapids the group would cover 34 kilometers. The river water at the put in had been a horrid brackinsh brown colour from the manure and other shit like constituents washing into the water at Theri during the evenings storm. It formed a brownish scum that bubbled along. In one eddy early on were found two dead cats. The river became featureless continuation of wild rapids, The brownish tinge of runnoff from around the construction site augmented with the site of various dead animals diminished after about the first ten kilometers. The river consisted of pool drop features and the drops themselves ten to ocurr at river bends, basically screaming right or left turns where the paddle has to avoid the pillows on the corners. The trip back to Deoprayag would be 32 kilometers. the weather was starting to clear up and as the group passed a certain village along the river they were flagged down by a group onthe banks who seemed quite upset.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The story, as best could be made out by one of the guides was that a young woman had jumped into the river into one of the rapids, in a state of despair. She had drowned and the body was not recovered, to be expected downstream they said.. As a paddler that was not something they would look forward to, but a promise made that if found she would be returned to them. Why would a women jump into the river. It was learned that she was in fact naked, leaving her clothes on the river bank. It was assumed that she had become pregnant and killed herself to save embarassment to herself and her family.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The lot of the women of India was changing in those days. The more modern and fortunate of them lived I the cities and were members of more prosperous middleclass faimilies. The daughters of those were able to acquire education and the chance at a better life. The traditional Hindu family was at best patriarchal and at worst under the thumb of a dictatorship. The men ruled the roost, and the women did the work.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In the village above it was clear after a brief reconointre that the benefits of the urban settings were far from apparent. There were young women out of the home. About thirty or so were seen in a stone quarry, dressed in their sarees with baskets filled with stones in what amounted to a Hindu drag line. Basket upon basket of stones were being removed from the quary by the women. Not a man was to be seen.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">On the rare occassion the women would make fleeting eye contact as they pasted the strangely dressed men that looked down upon them and as they passed them on route to the pile of stones which was being stacked at the top of the quary. The look was unmistakable, fear and embarassment perhaps with a bit of pain mixed in. How would humans come to haul stones like that?</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Other women were seen as well further downstream on route to a suspension bridge which hung low over the river. They were carrying slender saplings with the leaves still attached and bundled in large faggots bigger than themselves. There must have been twenty or thirty of them. This time a male was amoung them, carrying not a stick with a great frown on his face whether it was at the site of the kayakers in their paddling gear or not mattered not he was clearly unhappy to see them.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Also in India there was the matter of the mysterious “kitchen fire” where a woman is burned to death. The cause, is very often the result of insubordination leading to immolation. Discord between a young woman especially and her parents or parents to be primarily the father or father to be can lead to family violence. In India where the dowrey system is alive and well the parents of the bride are beholding to the parents of the groom for “taking in” their female child as it were. In this way it becomes a power grab of the sexist kind to raise as many boys as possible to both increase the manpower of the family unit but to also gather maximum dowage.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">These factors and more culminated in the disappearance of one woman, suspiciously caste naked into the river that day - suspicious because in such a conservative society the idea of nakedness might be perceived by some as worse than death itself. A quick read of the situation might in fact be that alternate arrangements had been made by the supposed victim and her disappearance was more likely a way to conveniently remove herself from the unpleasantness of village life with the least amount of embarrassment to all concerned.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One way or the other, Needless to say, the paddlers were happy not to have found the body by the time they had taken off the river at about 4:00 oclock, early enough to set up camp before darkness fell on them. With that , and cry cloths, tents were set up, chai prepared and snacks brought out by the raft guides with soup. anybody would have felt better after the previous night and the sun had come out. Every muscle was aching right then and a bit of head ache from the sun and air, but still in all of that little mecies, no delhi belly yet.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They next day the paddlers were up at 0600 for their constitutionals before crawling back into the bags for another hour. For those, far away from home, it would be natural to be feeling a little homesick. Sleep had been fitful, as the mind played back its histories. The river left plenty of time to consider past misdeeds. With on the mind in recollection, the personal embarassment was internal and profuse. Everybody carries with them their sins and promiss and the space of time on the river allow all to revisit them. The simplicity of life, eat, sleep, paddle, and .. think, decisions forestalled, and made are rerun, plans for the future, lack of plans for the future, repetition of the past - and so it goes.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Again up early, called to waken by the body alone, many are relieved that their systems are still functioning normally despite having taken in the odd mouthfull of that horrid brew call the Bhag. Corn Flakes for breakfast was compensated by a perfectly blue sky. The sun rose cheerily and started drying the dew from the sleepiong bags which had become dampened by the cool river air. The sun’s rays reached out and touched the village on the opposite side of the river. This was the kind of day that any paddler would welcome. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Covering about 35 kilimeters was made doubly easy by the fast and clean moving currents until the beach was hit at Naga. the two significant rapids ocurring prior to the confluence were named Table Nook which was run to river right. It was followed by the falls. the falls is a notced flow with two channels . the left channel is very constricted by runnable. It is followe by seething whitewater. Closer to Deopryah are two back to back rapids and each a good and challenging run. Often as is the case it is possible to walk around particularly challenging runs but in this case both were run, one in pursuit of Ajeet who had beckoned the others to follow.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Deopryyagh, the town at the confluence of thehead waters of the Alaknanda and Bagarathi rivers is perched on a hillside. It is here that as the sun sets the golden glow lights up the clusters of white buildings. From the river or highway looking back upstream at the alpen glowing site, it is little wonder the place was given its name.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Deoprayag, or “God’s Confluence” is considered a very holy spot in all of India. Yet of the billion or so inhabitants of India, very few had ever seen it, fewer still had actually been there and an infinitisimal number, such as the paddlers there present had actually paddled down stream to reach it. 250 million or so directly depend on the Ganges for water and life on the river. The group stopped at the holy shrine erected immediately at the confluence where the water still rages white. A Pundit sadu greeted them and annointed thenm each with a colourful Bindi or mark on the forehead and garlands of marigolds.Each in turn was invited to grab a very chain installed at the apex of the confluence and gradually lower and then submerse themselves in the raging current. Many Hindu’s come and participate in this ceremony, not usually dressed in paddling gear.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The kayakers, dressed in their colourful lifevests and dry suits had in fact attracted quite an audience by this time. After the initiation or baptism they got back into their kayaks and proceeded to entertain the crowd by front surfing the waves at the spot , immediately tranforming the raging current into a riverwide playground. They would swing around and surf on the alaknanda and then come around to the other side and surf the Bhagarathi, two rivers at once. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The show had to end eventually and the group, charged from the days activities paddled on to the evenings campsite. The water was now more subdued on the Ganges , no longer sharing the pool drop qualities of the upper headwaters.</span></b></div>
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<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b>kayaky</b></span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b>back to the top</b></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 3"></a>Chapter Three</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Personal Rediscovery</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Three full days had past on the river and while the Ganges was much sleepier than its upstream pecursors it did have its moments. One thing was certain, at the end of the third day the team was greeted to one of the most picturest of camp sites. The beach was multitiered with shelves formed by various flood levels. Some of them reached about forty feet about the current water level. The site chosen for that evenings camp was across the river from the so-called holy trail. While there were some passers by on the opposite shore, roughtly 300 feet up from the river on a slope which itself was more like 900 feet high. Anyone seeing the group below might have talked and gaulked at them. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Downstream the sites were somewhat less romantic. In fact, in the distance now it was possibly to make out the lines of buses and TATA lorries gearing up and down on the mountain roads. With those signs of civiliation and life as usual feelings of normalcy reign again and insecurities disappear.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In his usual manner, Gerry Bedard had found an old rubber boot along the river bank and proceeded to fill it with stand and station it on a rock formation nearby so that anybody else coming around the corner would naturally see it and wonder about the boot and the block head who put it there thusly. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It stands to reason, however, that any one seeing a shoe out of place, out of a closet , on the street contemplates the story that shoe has to tell. How did it get there, who wore it and how did they come to lose it? A single shoe without companion has a host of stories to tell if one only asks the question. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">At the end of the day a new cook joined them from an access point on the road above the river. He prepared a wonderful and very spicey supper having brought additional supplies down for that purpose. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Don Wheaton met up with his driver at that point. Therefore he missed the hot rum toddys and story swapping that occurred around the campfire. It turned out to be the most enjoyable of evenings with the warming of the air with the lower elevation and the warm fire. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That evening, was part of an fulfiling self examination by our hero who took the time to ponder personal truths about this trip to the Indian Subcontinent. It seemed clear to him that despite the exotic location there was simply no running or hiding on this small planet. What ever problems a person has there is no solving or personal release from personal demons simply by a change in Geography. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">For example, if one has trouble getting along with people, that problem transports to the end of the universe. Personal warth, and humour are not, and had never been his strong point and reflecting on that various resolutions began to take shape, decisons about making making major changes, changes in thought and action that would result in a new future. Perhaps these decisions were reason enough to bring him to India.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next morning the bright sun was not enough to raise the sleepy crew from their late night of story telling, and rum toddies. They all slept in and breakfast when it was finally presented was a wonderful melange of banana pancakes and sunbathing on the warming beach sand of the Ganges. The plan for the day was simple enough. Head back onto the river on a lazy float back to base camp. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Sitting on the water starring up and the villages that moved by it was clear that many were made of concrete but the methods of construction were quite primitve. There were no cranes or pumps to move the material and much of it arrived at the construction site by hand bombing it or bucket brigade. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Much to the chagrin of some a bit of Diarhea had begun to set in. Everyone had it in one form or another but it wasn’t the severe delly belly type. Still, it was disconcerting to have to get up at 0500, darkness still over everything and find a place to eliminate away from the camp site..There was no problem as long as there were no severe cramps. The usual thing when that happens is to just live with it and not resort to taking anti diarheal pills right of the bat. One never knew just how bad a problem could get. As a courtesy to others, the crap pit was covered over and a rocky cairn placed over it to prevent a nasty surprise to others.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">AS the day progressed, a late lunch was had and the group continued to sit and sun bath on the site. The group finally hit the water just after lunch but the run was not primarily flat water against a light breeze heading up the river gorge. A few rapids were typical pool drop ending in a crash against a rocky shore, easily missed. The most interesting spot of the day was at the part of the river known as dead man’s eddy. It was a unique and somewhat anomalous formation caused by the occurrence off a small island on river left which split the current into the main and smaller side stream. Because of the speed of the water at this point the smaller current formed a powerful eddy behind the island which tened to bounce of the main current heading down stream and forming a rather high eddy fence. Anything caught in that eddy current behind the island tended to stay there in the resulting large and powerful recirculation. In years of paddling the members had never seen anything quite like it. Most of all, within the eddy, were all manner of flotsam and jetsam, not the least of which was a dead cow and .. a dead human body, bloated beyond recognition. Oh joy.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The lateness of the day led to another late camp set up with play high on the list of things to do including forming rock sculptures akin to Inukshuts along the river bank for others to come later and marvel at before getting swept away with the imminent rainy season and its higher and more powerful currents.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Out came the homemade Bocci balls, stones found along the shore and used like the original Italian version except that instead of being rolled they were thrown. The interesting part of the game was achieved when each person in turn called out a different method of tossing the stones, overhead, backhand, over the shoulder and so forth until finally , they grew tired, had a quick supper and once again headed into the tents for the evening.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Possibly because of the advancing of spring, and partly because of the lower elevation and proximity to base camp the temperature had been rising steadily. It was a welcome contrast to the horrid first day. The main rapid encounterd was called “the wall” which presented no major challenge. After stopping for lunch there was an opportunity to explore a small cave up from the river a short distance. Within the cave itself were Stalgmites ( which Mite touch the ceiling one day) and Stalagtites (which were already tight) to the ceiling, attached, that is. That being done, and seeing the religious connotations, once again, with small pictures and icons of Brahma, and Krishna and Shiva compared to the visitors own lack of decorum being thusly attired in rubber and so forth, they left. Back on the water there were two major rapids remaining, three blind mice and cross fire and relatively easy and enjoyable compared to the challenges that had presented themselves on the first day on thewater. That, and the fact that when one is constantly paddling on unknown waters there is a honing of skills that is unmistakeable.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">After another day of paddling under mild conditions the group attained the base camp. As they stepped out of their boats the cook staff handed each of them a tall glass of iced lemonade. The thing that was desired most of all, however was to get out of the dank paddling attire, and take a warm solar powered shower. That evening would be the first time in a week where the kayak gear would get to fully dry before the next paddle.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It was time to relax. The next morning Ajeet had taken those that had signed up for a trip up to the Chila national Park and then onwards back to Delhi. Our hero and that mischievious paddling partner were to tackle the next river on their own power. The issue of the bill for the services of the camp was left outstanding. Ajeet had carefully avoided speaking about the issue. This was the Indian equivalent to sending the colour TV home on trial with the customer. It was good as sold.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Sitting and speaking with the river guides provided some insight into what the trip down the Alaknanda might hold. Sir Edmund Hilary had made an attempt to drive a jet boat up that river years previously and got as far as Nanprayag, Past that point the rapids were simply too big and too powerful. On the downward decent from Piple Koti that is likely where the two would take out. Relaxing and thinking about that aspect of the trip with a glass of sweet chai the, milk and cardommon more aromatic than ever, the prospect of paddling again was still quite attractive. This time they’d be on their own, taking buses up stream and carrying their dry clothing with them instead of having a support raft to carry them.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Those thoughts were put on the back burner momentarily to allow reality to sink in and direct one’s attention to the single change of clothing that required washing and drying. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Even in India’s temperate northern climate, the evenings are sufficiently cold that evening wear might rightly include a touque and neck warmer, perhaps a pair of long johns and woolen sweater. But the evening was for sleeping and during the day the temperature ofter rises past 80 degrees Fahrenheit. So the cloths at hand would have to do, simply washed with a bucket full of warm water, bar of detergent soap in hand and one simply goes at it, scrub a dub dub style. Clothes rinsed in the Ganges then hung to dry in the dry air.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The standard kit for a self contained paddler would include a dry suit, two piece is ideal because it allows for variation in paddling wear. Underneath that is worn a fuzzy bunny suit, an underwear like garment only of much thicker material. An undershirt of polypropylene is normally worn beneath that which has long sleeves and back with a high neck. Rubber booties are essential and they must have a good sole for walking along shore and even climbing rocky faces. The bottoms should be made of sticky rubber so that purchased can be achieved on the slipperest river rocks. The kayaker seals themself into the kayak using a neoprene skirt that is worn about the waist and locks around the cockpit rim of the kayak call the coaming. The paddle is a two piece variety for easy of packing. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Dry cloths are caried in inflatable stowe bags that double both as floation and as storage. Carry lightweight polyester pants that are also quick dry material. Under that would be long johns and poly propylene top, warm and lightweight. Usually a shirt is brought along, socks, and dry boots with hankerchief. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One also brings the usualy toiletries and the essential medicine bag, sleeping bag and mat and as much food and water as is practical.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Everything has to be of such a size and weight that it can be carried in the most unaccommodating of places but not so voluminous that a camera is excluded, for one must take the mandatory pictures simply to prove one did what they said they did.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A short trip was taken into Rishikesh to pick up a few items, a woolen sweater to double as a paddle sweater and some oddities. The beetle nut is sold in small packages and is a form of tobacco containing nicotine but a very aromatic flavour. It is often taken after meals as an apertif. The problem, of course is that it is also somewhat addictive and so best left alone. Walking about on the streets of the markets and along the Ganges was experience enough. In town there were tailors that would put together a suit of cloths from scratch, made to measure for a paltry about $15.00.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A short trip was taken between the main townsite across a suspension bring over the Ganges to the other side of the river where most of the larger Ashrams were located. The bridge is populated with Macau monkies who were quick to take offense lest one should look at them too long.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Within town a marriage procession was weaving down the narrow streets preceeded by a small and cacaphonous brass band, making more noise than music. Snazzily dress musicians, indeed wore black uniforms with gold lamé acceents. Truly horrible music has a purpose. Coming with it were floats with all manner of person in costumes, dressed as Krisha, Brahma and shiva. Children waved from atop the various floats in the procession who also tossed out garland of marigolds to the onlookers. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">On this trip our hero had taken some small pins from home, canadian flag and canadian maple leaf pins which he handed out at every place he stopped. Each member of the Snow Leopard team received one.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Of all the strange sightes in town, none is more strange than the sight of the holy man or Sadu. Very often his skin is coloured with ash and the hair, perhaps unwashed is a mess of rastaferian dread locks, The Sadu walks in bare feet usually, and loin cloth or simple cloth robe and walking stick with variouls religious artifacts hung abou the wrists neck and ankles. More than any thing is the shocking appearance, and wild look in the eyes. Almost always is the Sadu followed by others acting in the capacity of disciples, Sadu in training as it were. The Sadu, wanted nothing. He owned nothing and had no home, living off the generousity of strangers, who appreciating that life of both chastity (who would have him) and poverty would give whatever they could. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The buzz of rishikesh had grown to be unbearable and the two retreated to the base camp. Public transit in the form of TATA bus was constantly coursing through the mountain passes. There at the door of each bus was a conductor who would take the fare. It was enought that the driver would keep his eyes on the road. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">On this trip back to the camp, however, it was a simple matter to simply flag down a lorrey driver and get dropped in exchange for a few rupees. Forever the businessmen.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Preparations were well underway for the trip to the source of the Alaknanda. The idea was to rise at an early hour and catch one of the many buses and lorreys heading out that time of day. The mountain roads were closed during the evenings to further departures for safety reasons, that and the fact that India and Pakistan were not at a point of harmonious relations and it guaranteed no invasion by truck.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They were us at 05:00 hours to pack the kayaks up the enbankment up to the highway. The cook , Roger had prepared chai and bagged egg omlettes and sandwiches for the bus ride. The crew helped load the kayaks up the hill thankfully. It was hard to judge exactly how much cash to take along. Back in Delhi Rajha had said that 1000 rupees made one a wealthy man, 1400 was a princely sum and that is what was taken. The bus trip alone up to piple Koti turned out to be 300, really only about ten dollars for the price to two to travel.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They managed to flag the first bus that came along, and it was among the first few that had left new Rishikesh on its trip north into the mountains at 08:00. The procedure was to have one hop on top of the bus and do a rodeo style rope down of the equipment with carabiners. It simply had to be quick and good. The gear was stached inside the boats. Without adequate tie down the boats and gear could overturn spilling their contents and sending them down to the river below, in some cases that would make them unrecoverable. It was a three thousand foot drop. As one handed the equipment up they also prepared to pay the conductor for the fare then quick as a bunny into the bus, find a seat and get ready for the trip.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The bus trip was particularly brutal from Shivpurir to Deoprayag, or “God’s Confluence”. It took about eight hours to cover that distance and onwards to Piple Koti normally but as it turned out the bus required a radiator repair and a tire change so an extended stop took place. The queasy traveller always takes gravol at a time like that. Gravol to start and another after about four hours. At the very least that would straighten the corners and flatten the dips. Onward they traveled, snow leopard to Deoprayag, further still to the plain sity of Sringar and The repair stop at Radraprayag and then onwards to Gochar.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The small town of Karnaprayag would be revisited on the way back as would Nanpryag and Chamoli, the last stop before Piple Koti. The last stopping point, piple Koti, was high in the mountains. Snow capped members of the Himalyas were visible at dusk. The plan was to stay over at simple guest house or tourist flat. These provided simple accommodation for as little as 250 rupees having only one rather large and shareable bed. It had hot water and in any case was far superior to the tin shed that greeted them at the top of the Bhag. The setting was beautiful. A short walk from the tourist Guest house , really only about four blocks was the path leading the 900 feet down to the suspension bridge and the put in to the Alaknanda river below another 125 feet. The boats and gear had to be carried that distance the next morning.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That evening they at at a common dining spot in the village. The meal consisted of the usual Dal or lentil soup, served hot, with chick peas, califlour and cabbage and potatoes in one great stew and the standard Chepates or flour pancakes.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The Chepatees are very much a dietary staple throughout the Gharwal region. They are made by flattening out flour dough over a clay oven. Inside the over burns a hot fire and the top of the oven is the cooking surface, made into a dome shaped form upon which the pancake is laid. Part of the local show is the flattening of the dough requiring a tell tale pocketa pocketa as the substance is flattened by passing it from one hand to the other in with more and more flourish depending on the chef’s techniue. The pancake is used as a substrate for all the other dishes - all of them quite hot and made so from the large quantities of curry which are applied.They were consumed until the sweat started rolling from the brow and until no more could be consumed.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">After Dinner strolling through the village a post office box was found. It was an unlikely looking thing with the appearance of a water fire extinguisher overturned with a slot in the top and a red paint job. From the post office which was surprising ly open, two aerograms where purchased and sent out. (Ironically these were received by the recipients back in North America two weeks later it was learned.)</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Heaters were available in the rooms, but the two thought better of it having brought warm sleeping bags with them. Even so it got cold that night, possibly below freezing. The room was going to be cold - very cold- as conditions were alpine with very cold evening temperatures as a rule.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The two had thought to bring water filterand hoped not to have to use it given then bottled water was available. Nonetheless, dehydration through physical exertion demanded consumption of large quantities of water.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">After the cold night the two were up at 0700 and by the time the porridge which was ordered was ready it was closer to 0800. The plan was to carried the boats two at a time with a makeship rope yoke worn around the neck and connected to the grab loops of the kayaks.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The hike to the bridge commenced by 09:30 they had arrived. Still from the bridge was a brutal bushwhack through xerophytic plants, complete with unkind thorns, either stinging nettles or thorn bushes seemingly everywhere but somehow they collected themselves at the waters edge.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The river basin was still immersed in shadows and still cool so they quietly and quickly changed from their dry cloths into the paddling gear stowed in the boats, resealing the dry bags with the dry change, balancing the loads and slipped into the grade two rapids at the entry point, senses heighted as they passed under the suspension bridge they had just crossed, 125 feet above them. They could see that several of the villagers had in fact followed them down and were now peering at them curiously from the bridge, suprised that anyone would be attempting such a stunt.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But this was no stunt. The plan was to paddle down the Alaknanda, whatever may come, and stop only to rest at the end of a full day of fun and excitement, purging the soul of fear and evil properties as progress is made on one of the headwaters of India’s most holy of holy rivers, the Ganges.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The site of villagers gawking would become more and more familiar as progress was made back downstream through the towns they had passed by bus earlier the previouslday. The entire trip from Piple Koti to Chamol was invested in a deep canyon. the grade of the water encountered was 3+ to class four with some class V rapids which had to be portaged for safety reasons. They arrived at one of the first major rapids of the day, a nasty looking affair, It consisted of a large boulder garden straining the current on the left and the main flow ran through a series of three hydraulics. Our hero projected that the first hole if run would slow the boater down, and result in the hapless kayaker getting stopped dead in the following hole only to surf and ditch into the third and strongly advised, once again because there were only two of them and for safety sake to walk around. Mr. Bedard would have none of this and decdied to run the stretch. The other had to watch as he executed the exact manoever that had been predicted and forced the other quickly into his boat and charging after the remains.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He had gotton caught in the exact hole that had been predicted and he surfed by was unable to maintain that attitude. He was stuck The rescuer now aware the route was unsafe opted for the less sticky but possibly just as danger for fear of entrapment, broaching or pinning throught the boulder garden. As usual, what appear to be relatively small and minor drops from the vantage point above proved to be considerably larger in the actual running of them, fully up to five foot drops through narrow slots. He could see Gerry on the left bank and he wave him on to collect the kayak that had been separated from him. It was, fortunately lodged on a rock in the middle stream of a Class three rapid. All that could be done at that point was to find an eddy and beach his own boat and try and empty that beached whale of the water that had accummulated within it. Gerry was to learn that his own throw bag and safety line had not been clipped into the boat, and neither was his first aid kit. They had washed downstream which complicated matters somewhat given that rope could have come in handy at that point.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Both the first aid kit in its Pelican Case (or hard sided water tight case) and rope were later found about seven kilometers downshtream and held in an eddy of a different rapid. The throw bag was recovered by a villager.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Our hero’s first effort was to retrieve the kayak. A line had to be thrown across, unfortuneatley it was in total, ten feet too short. That damned throw bag was rearing its ugly head. finally the plan was hatched to ferry across the stream to Gerry’s position.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The ferry manoever is designed to allow the paddler to cross a moving current from one side of a river to the other without losing much distance downstream. It can be executed in one quick movement if an extreme angle is made to the current but most commonly the paddler retains an attitude which is almost parallel to the current and a slight lean towards the shore and angle slightly off parallel. The force of the current itself helps move the boat sideways thereby requireing effort to maintain attitude rather than to power the kayak across the current per se. Our hero had managed to ferry over to The island locked paddling associate. He was not too bad for wear and tear, only a slight cut to the chin, which as it was, was still bleeding as it had cut to the bone of his chin. The decison was made for him to grab the back of the the rescuing kayak as a swimmer would in the water rather than trying to bring his boat to him. This move had its dangers because the water was moving quickly and he had to carry his paddle which he had somehow managed to save with himself.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They recovered the boat. Gerry in retrospect, had come very close to a serious mishap and was bound to be more careful for the rest of the trip and more bound to listen to the prognostications of his paddling partner. His chin had taken a nasty gash, there would be fear of infection and he had also taken a nasty and exhausting swim. the day had not started off very auspiciously and there was still quite some distance to go. They decided to stop and sleep at Chamoli, only seven kilometers away. The rapids were difficult and numerous, mostly screaming around blind corners, very difficult to boat scout and these were, afterall, low water levels!. </span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">kayaky</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 4"></a>Chapter Four</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The Rhythm of Live</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In the fullness of time it is said that all mysteries will be resolved into the body of human knowledge. Starting from the discovery of fire and later the wheel, unto modern times where it is scarcely possible to keep of with the speed of advancements and new achievements. The notion that these things have always existed is a tempting one. Do humans invent things or merely discover them. Did the wheel always exist in concept attaining its physical presentation through human action or was it devine intervention?</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Once asked the great scientist, Nikola Tesla the discoverer of the alternating current engine, said that his ideas came to him in dreams, allegorical dreams that his professional training allow him to perceive.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Perhaps it is that we find ourselves in just the right circumstances to have great truths revealed to us - that we do not actually invent anything at all, rather we through our lives and our actions prepare ourselves as vessels for the next great truth.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Intuitively this is appealing. It strikes to the very heart of the notion that any body, any human has the ability to achieve greatness by being in the right place at the right time. However, it seems more likely that it is the one who is best prepared to take advantage of an opportunity that presents itself that will succeed. From that paradigm, perhaps it is true that in the case of the wheel, the notion had presented itself over and over again until precisely the right moment.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The voyage of personal discovery can be a bit like that. And while chance truly favours the person most prepared to take advantage of it, it also presupposes that things have to be working just right.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The universe we live in must operate like that on large and small scales. We live on a planet located just the right distance from the sun so that we have a temperate climate. The earth is not close to the sun like Mercury or too far like Pluto. How lucky is that? The earth is surrounded in its orbit by the moon which is large enough to cause tidal shifts in the ocean and precisely large enough and at the right distance to completely obliterate the sun from time to time. Yet the moon is too small to hold an atmosphere and clearly has been pocked by meteors as if it was sucking them out space in order to save the Earth from harm. In fact, the largest planet in the solar system, Jupiter has been shown to do exactly that when it took a hit in recent memory by the Shoemaker-levy comet. Had that body struck the earth, this writer wouldn’t be here to talk about it.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The ability of largest planet to drawn celestial bodies away from the earth and avert collisions is a blessing of astronomical proportion, how likely is that, How often could that configuration occur in all of the universe?</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Lying on the beach alongside the Ganges river, staring up at the stars the mind tends to wander, contemplating subjects larger than oneself, striving for a grain of wisdom, and nugget of gold but according to the law of discovery, the mind will receive only when there is fertile ground that has been prepared to receive, it will discover, only when chance, circumstance and effort have mustered their combined presence. In the end luck plays a much bigger factor that we perhaps would like to admit.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A newscaster met his end that way. A successful sports broadcaster stepped outside his office one evening, having worked late. Little did he know at the time that a disturbed man, lay in waiting outside, disgruntled with the media for some god forsaken reason and fully committed to killing the first person to walk out of that broadcaster’s building. It was that newscaster and he met his end that day. What kind of luck is that?</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A man, old enough to have lived through a multitude of hardships and crisis in his own life, giving birth to children, raising a family , educating himself, maintaining relationships, paying his taxes steps out onto a crosswalk and is hit literally by a bus. Within hours his life force leaves him. How unlucky is that?</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The history of man is filled with examples, not so much of brilliance but also of luck, people in the right place at the right time and people in the wrong place at the wrong time. There is no rightness or wrongness about the event itself, just a bizarre coming together of forces that lead ultimately to a consequence.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Intuitively we understand that things don’t go the way we would like them, People get sick, that get viruses, they have accidents, they are injured. Sometimes this occurs through their own stupidity and carelessness. That can be helped or can it. When an intelligent man working towards his PhD in forestry decides to celebrate the millenium by swimming between to hold cut in the ice in the middle of the night, and surprise , dies in the act its hard to determine if stupidity and careless or bad luck are involved because people perform risky activities all the time.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">More likely his luck just ran out and people should be careful how they test their luck. On large and small scales, the luck we experience often is contained in limited quantities according to our lot in life. Thinking of luck as a commoditiy that can can be graphed according to its occurrence within the human population we’ll see that some people have the worst luck. They are at the bottom of the curve. They just can get a break. The problem is that they are found in a statistically predictable bracket that says that a certain and small proportion of a population are in fact incredibly unlucky, just and their mirrored cohort at the opposite end of the spectrun have horseshoes permanently lodged in their keesters.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In our daily lives we experience this phenomenon, each of us. Some days are better than others it is said. There is a reason for that because the phenomenon of luck varies on the level of the individual’s own experience. That member of the dismal cohort is going to have bad luck, that’s true but it is also likely that some days are going to be truly abominable.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">At the end of the scale that other of the kin of the horsehoe is going to have some days that are clearly better than others, they won’t win the lottery every time out, but they will win with incredible frequency.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The rest of us fall into that mass of mediocrity, the 60% of all of us who fall within a couple standard deviations from the cursed mean. We are up, we are down, once in a while having a breakthrough, occassionally having a trauma, and eventually things just seem to work out. They know better than anybody that when they flip coins, the more times they flip heads, the likelihood of flipping tails increases. That shouldn’t be the case, the likelihood of getting a head or tail should always be 50:50 but the pressure rises doesn’t it. Too much good luck then, to them is a bad thing. It makes one suspicious, leery, spooked. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Our hero contemplated the universe from his exotic reach on the far side of the earth - contemplating as Rajha has said, his Kharma - the factors that led him to be in that precise spot at that precise time. Was it good luck or bad luck? sometimes the true meaning of events is unclear at the time they unfold. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">What could be more natural for the person to seek meaning in everything they do and in everything that happens around them. A religious person might seek the face or hand of god in these things. A better question might be, how do these events tie into all else that has happened in their lives. How did it happen and what are the consequences.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But could never see that truth and hold on fast to it until that moment No fractels spinning off in space could ever contain it or forces that have led them there in time enough to claim it</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The trip down the Alaknanda was such a moment. Was this a moment in time where the forces of luck were being tempted. Was the envelop being pushed. When Gerry persisted and headed his kayak into the rapid, how is it that he survived whereas another at another time may have been pinned, broached or drowned at that very spot. Was the trip to India good luck or bad luck? What was the meaning of all this? Thoughts that may have been pointless raced through his mind with the speed of light.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It occured to him that perhaps the event was too big or too small. We humans are severly limited by our perceptions by our limited senses. In this universe we now have telescopes. we can see into outer space and glimpse the surface of planets millions of miles away. We launch space probes into the great beyond to extend the reach of our senses, sending photographic images of rocks we’d never be able to see with our unaided eyes. Every human sense has been aided in this way but none so much as the eyesight. Imagine the use of high speed photography that when slowed down to real time finally gives us glimpses of the ball meeting the bat, or the water striking the water or the bullet passing through the apple. How limited are we in our perception of the universe and how limited are we in our perceptions of the events that surround us without the extendors that we so greatly need.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Tesla said that the greatest investions are those that extend the ability of humans to communicate and understand one another. He might just as easily said that that great invention, unknown to him at the time would be the device that extends the reach of our minds, and not just our muscles.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The computer, developed and then came the internet, a truly mind expanding and extending achievement in the history of mankind whose implications for the future are in fact as yet unknown.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The abilty of our hero to grasp the situation he found himself in was only limited by the tools he had been given, and perhaps in the fullness of time, yes the fullness of time, that thought that ran through his mind until, blissfully he passed into a restful sleep.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Gerry had run the Alaknanda before on a previous trip to India he had taken . He did not recognize the features of the rapids that had threatened to consume him. The pace of river running had been exhausting, rapid after rapid challenging the two like at no other time. When the two finally had landed at Chomali, a mere seven kilometers beyond the devil’s rapids where the rescue had occured the two of them were both exhausted. Landing on shore on concrete steps or burial Ghats they contemplated the most minimalist of accommodations given their fatigue. They were at the foot of a very simple Ashram, home to a wild eyed Sadu. Gerry simply sat at the waters edge, numbly staring into space, too tired to even remove a piece of paddling gear. The Sadu, by this time, realizing that he had company poked his frantic head out of his door stoop. He went back inside and shortly thereafter reappeared with a couple stainless steel cups of Chai. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">the Chai was most excellently sweet and nourishing both in liquid and sugar content and soon the two could raise their heads and begin to look around them. Stripping off their paddling gear and leaving at the foot of the Ashram they climbed up the embankment at Chamoli and found of all things a guest house, called the Darbon Hotel</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They bid farewell to the Sadu, leaving their wet gear tucked into their boats at the foot of the Ashram, fairly secure inthe knowledge that the Sadu would keep an eye out for them and that in any case none of the locals was going to be going anyplace.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The Darbon was a space concrete building, whitewashed and plain with wooden support poles located at strategic points in the main bar/hall where they chose to eat that night. As if the Darbon had a reputation for lively guests, they encounterd a Dutch traveler, something right out of the Midnight express, a film about a couple drug runners held in a Turkish prison, a Dutch traveler by the name of Jens appeared to them. He was actually a travel agent in another life and had acted upon the impulse to hit the open road, tired of arranging travel for others, he decided to arrange travel for himself and that was in part what brought him to th Darbon that night.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Jens was full of stories and had a fairly substantial inventory of Munari, a form of hash. Sitting up in the third level of the hotel, feeling no pain at that point, the effects of the Munari slowly sinking in, the three of them sat out on the balcony in the cool mountain air looking up at - what were they, stars?</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">At night they could see the lights of villages located higher up in the mountains. They flickered from the alternating current power and could very easily have been stars save for the fact that they seemed to be flickering at the same frequency. Because Chamoli was located so far up into the mountains, where the mountain sides were dark and shapeless, those village lights may have well been suspended in space instead of firmly anchored to the mountains themselves.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The food at the Darbon had been too spicey finally. In fact with the profuse spicing of foods in India, indescriminatingly so, in the view of some, ultimately it became unpalatable no matter how humber its beginnings. Cauliflower?, Cabbage, what could youdo to those plain vegetables, and yet it was certain that literally bags of curried spices were added to them at some point in the cooking process. Both Gerry and Jens consumed large portions but our fearless and appetiteless hero could not get much past his lips. That was the first night there was no alternative to turn the taste buds to the local staple, unpasteurized yoghurt, a white and slimey affair called DAI. They discussed the relative merits of the stuff and concluded that the bateria sure to be overflowing within the mixture was likely the good kind, friendly microbes of a sort. If one was to literally fill their guts with them, then any other really and truly nasty kindred would be muscled out by the sure volume of them. An so they ate copious quantities from that moment on. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The Dai actually helped to settle the unsettled state of his stomach, though, all through the evening he belched the hot spices he had consumed, but never came close to vomiting or for that matter getting the runs. The Dai was working its magic. He dreamt of a battlefield internal to himself where the forces of light and darkness were lining up on opposite sides preparing to do battle. The dark force of spice and bad river water welled up with fierce armaments, slings, and mace at the ready, swords drawn. Across from them the multitudes of the armies of light and goodness, of Dai, moving smoothingly around in their flowing white garb free to move and wield their weapons of goodness, all the whle playing harp music and preparing to throw themselves onto their declared enemy and simply smother them with love through their sheer numbers.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It might have been the Munari that cause those dreams but the next morning all three of them were moving slowly. They didn’t hit the water again until 09:30. Stopping at a local shop a few candles and odds and ends were purchased and later given to the Sadue for his help and assistance the previous day, mostly for allowing them to land and park their boats at the ashram and his most delicious Chai. Donning their wet gear, cold and clammy from remaining in the boats overnight, they steeled themselves for a hard day on the Alaknanda, they got back into their boats and slid into the current.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">As if to compensate for the lack of a long carry from Piple Koti down to the river the previous day, the river was even more challenging than on the previous day. Rapids were continous and challenging, too numerous to count. Throughout the trip from Chamoli to Nanprayag, a distance of about 17 kilometers as the crow files the two intrepid paddlers worked very hard boat scouting rapids from eddies, straining their necks to see down stream to find the paths of deep water running through rocks , for the downstream V’s they could attain and then quickly find another eddy to fall behind, rest and plot their next move.It seemed at one point that the rapids were simply too numerous and challenging to comprehend. The progress seemed so slow, every hundred yards could take up to a half an hour to navigate but onwards they plunged, down, down ever further towards their goal that day of reaching the small village of Nanprayag.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">By the time they reached the village they were again exhausted. This time the walk up to the buildings was more exhausting than before, there was no Ashram to receive their gear or Sadu to look after it. In retrospect it would have been better to contract a local to look after their gear. The boats and gear were left near the river, overturned. They just walked up to the local tourist guest house in town. Both were suffering the effects of the extremely spicey food the night before. The Dai had worked wonders but another meal of hot spice was hardly going to do the trick this time around. Finding a local eating place they talked the proprietor into letting them boil up their own vegetables. He simply provided the vegetables and a pot of boiling water and left them to their mission which was to cook their own meal. After a short while, the food was near read to eat when he cam back into the kitch with a plastic bag filled with curry spice, there must have been five pounds of the stuff. Almost in unison four hands shot up, ni!, ni! they cried and the restauranteur looked at them as if they had lost their mantras. That boiled cabbage and potatoe was very good for the change it presented, they ate heartily and their stomachs thanked them with a very pleasant night of sleep. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It was late the next morning when they returned to their boats that they discoverd that some locals had stolen Gerry’s shorts and our hero’s green Bunny fleece suit worn normally beneath the dry suit. Gerry later learned that he was also missing a polypropylene top. In total this heist was not enought to stop the trip or warrant a trip to report the incident to the police. The offenders had clearly gone through the inventory of belongings very carefully during the night. Careful in that they took what they needed. To take a pair of underwear one must be desperate, and lets face it, in the mountains, what a practical item those would be. He concluded that the thief likely needed them more than he did and in the full ness of time he would often think back to that trip to India imaging a villager, perhaps in his late sixties by that time, warming by the fire in an aging and slightly smelling set of fleece coveralls. And so the initial reaction of being very pissed off about being robbed tranformed into a very kharmic pleasure that the trip to india had turned into a very pleasant opportunity for a local peasant who quite likely could make use of something much better than he could. fortuneatly nothing else was taken, not the boats, or the take apart paddles, not the life vests or rubber skirts. any one of things would have put the expendition to an end.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">After those first two days on the river the decision was made to start filtering the river water to drink. This was a big decision and as Gerry pulled out the water filtration device that he had brough along he admitted he hadn’t even tested it out before he left. In fact he didn’t even know how to assemble it. This was a dicey affair. The thing didn’t seem to be working properly. Fortuneatley a portable filter was brought along. It consisted of an activated charcoal filter, some how iodizing the filtrate. That was the water they started to drink. It looked clear coming through the device... but was it clean?</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Rather than using the filter on river water the plan was to put it to good use filtering tap water from the villages. It seemed a bit irrelevant, no ill effects or delhi belli were contracted however, because during paddle that day, several good mouthfulls of water were consumed, quite by accident and over several long rapids which -caused kayak upsets and requring the use of kayak self rescue techniques, the eskimo roll.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The eskimo roll is to some a mysterious activity that is part magic, part science, part athleticism and part grace.</span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">kayaky</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 5"></a>Chapter Five</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Value is on the Ass of the Beholder</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The Eskimos probably invented the Eskimo roll, they invented the kayak. Its pretty easy to understand why an Eskimo would want to roll their kayak, the early whale bone and seal skin versions were paddled in ice water. The paddler probably accidently achieve the roll by bracing off an ice flow or something similar.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The modern craft used on the Alaknanda expedition were made of plastic, fairly light, even when loaded with gear and paddles made of complicated fibreglass and carbon fibre layups. In one smooth motion the paddler sweeps his blade at a climbing angle in the water, and rotating his hips to start the boat rolling in the water coming ultimately out of the water leaning quite far forward or back thereby keeping the overall center of gravity low to the axis of rotation of the boat.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">All in all the number of times our hero had to roll his craft was few, perhaps three times in all, but in each case it was a clutch situation with severe consequences on failure. In those situations an extra added rush of adrenaline provides the power and energy to fight extremely strong current.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The last day of paddling took the pair from Nandprayag where items of their clothing had been stolen to Gochar, a total of 31 kilometers, as the crow flies was covered in about 4.5 hours, aided by a rapidly moving current. Those were good paddling days, very often boat scouting was required and was used to pass through large boulder strewns sections of the wider flowing river. The adrenaline was really pumping through them then. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Having reached Gochar they landed upon a sandy beach and looked up at the nine hundred foot bluff that lay in front of them after the grueling day of paddling. It seemed a super human effort would be required to make that trip, possibly three times in all, once with kayak and again with thegear. Fortuneately there were by the river a couple of locals who were enticed to carry the boats up for a paltry sum. These sherpas used a simple rope sling around the cockpit of the boat with the opening of the cockpit facing up and laying sqarely on their shoulders, bow pointing to the sky. Step by step in simple rubber flip flops they made their way up to about the 600 foot level before pausing to rest. One of them, an older and much shorter one claimed to be 62 years old. At hearing that there was a tinge of embarassment. Back home in North America, it would have been scandalous to hire an fellow past retirement age to attemp that load. They would, however, have been in such excellent condition. They were each given twenty rupees for their trouble, slightly less than a dollar each. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In Gochar the local villagers were astounded at the sight of two white travellers in paddling gear approaching them, first because of their white skin, second because of their paddling gear and mostly because the one sitting before them had blue eyes, extremely rare in this portion of the North Gharwal region of the country. Mostly school children pressed in to have a good look. The press of them was somewhat disconcerting but they were fortunately just curious. Gerry had been seconded away to have Chai with one of the fellows he met on the river. He'd just taken off without given any indication of where he was going. Highly unreliable fellow that Gerry. And so he was no where to be seen. The other , now just sitting and waiting removed most of the wet garments and deposited him in the mesh bag he'd brought along for that purpose The crowd's interest in him had diminished once the sun glasses were put back on.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">When Gerry finally showed there was a sense of urgency to find something to drink. The local vendor must have found it surprsing when to anglos walked in and proceed to to purchase six bottles of Limca and Thumbsup and drink them right down before him. The last remaining bus leaving for Rudprayagh shortly afterwards. At Rudprayagh they'd have to wait until morning to catch the next bust back to Rishikesh. They found a room there and more soft drinks having pulled into Rudprayagh around 15:30. the Tourist Guest House was near by, and a couple of local porters carried their boats from the bus stop to their rooms where the gear that had been wet now for the last week was allowed to be strung up and giving a proper drying. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Settling in for a bucket wash they headed out for dinner, which again proved to be spiced far to hot to consume. Indiscriminately so, they thought and so couldn't eat much of it. Fortuneately they had thought to bring along packets of pounded nutrient. Normally consumed with milk it could be mixed with water or even yhogurt. That proved to be sufficient. That touriest guest house was located close to several barber shops and although they had become accustomed to their beards, the plan was hatched to go in and have a proper shave and haircut. Both Gerry and he had haircuts, shave (except for the mustaches) and in addition, quite invigorating body massages, administered with great fanfare and grunting noised by the barber officiating. They also received detail facial treatments. The overall effect was both decadent and relaxing and all at a cost of about 40 Rupees each, or about two dollars. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The trip costs had dropped considerably since they had embarked on their decent down the Alaknanda. After the bus and the guest house at piple Koti they were finding it difficult to spend more that 200 rupies a day in total. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They evening, perhaps due to the noise of the village or the warmth of their surrounding he woke around 03:00 in the mornging and had great difficultyu sleeping. Trying to meditake seemed to help and induced a feeling of peace - a kind of buzz. with ideas flowing - wild and crazy ideas of what he might do when he got back to Canada. It was no wonder he couldn't sleep.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">More than anything else was a real fear that somehow he'd become unemployable, too independently minded and perhaps too bitter about the whole business of going to work for somebody or some organization. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He thought back to the types of jobs he'd had in the past and wished he'd taken more time to travel and see the world when he was younger. It might have given him better insight into his true passions. But in the end he realized it was the travel and the adventure that he loved even though at times it was these things that frightened him. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They enjoyed a dangerous sport, one that was fraught with real dangers, pinning on rocks, broaching between two rocks, sliding down the face of an undercut, strainers, waterfalls, so many things conspiring to do them in and at the same time, providing the exhilaration of facing danger and in the face of that danger playing upon the current and waves.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">After zipping and snapping and popping his way into rubber and plastic and nylon that day He slid into to current to head out to play in water that was foaming and rushing away....</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The saying went that the paddling was dangerous, but people could get killed simply crossing the street. They could be hit by the proverbial bus. He remembers at time when he had stood before a man and saw that exact thing happen - an elderly man was killed crossing the street, at a crosswalk by a bus whose driven and overlooked him and struck him soundly enought while making a left hand turn to smash the driver's side windshield. How unlucky is that? he thought remembering the incident. His view of death was considerable more appetizing than laying on a cold road, and falling into shock with hundreds of transit workers and passengers gawking down upon him - undignified to say the least. His princely version was to be in a sumtuous bed - naked mind you, with two equally sumptuously naked women, who would work him over until he died with a smile on his face.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It could happen.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">By Friday morning at 0700 they had been up, had breakfast and waited for the first bus to Rishikesh. The bus pulled up and using the routine that had served them so well, one scampered to the roof of the bus using the ladder at the rear and pulled up each boat as the other hand them up and then tied them down "Rodeo Style" to quickly scurry down and collect his ticket and seat. They arrived at the Snow Leopard encampment at the Ganges by noon where they hauled their gear down to the campsite.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They washed their cloths including jackets. The plan was to head back into Rishikesh to either purchase long underwear for under the dry suit or to have one made. It was off to Rishikesh for another day of conspicuous consumption. They flagged a ride into Rishikesh with Shroom and Nari. Walking between the stalls in the markets a large blanket was secured, a red white and blue multicoloured check was the only type he could find that would offer the kind of insulation he required. With a zipper in hand he found a tailor that would take on the job. That tailer must have found it impossible to comprehend what such a garmet would be used for. Arrangments were made to have the new bunny suit ready by the end of the week.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The streets of Rishikesh werre bussling. A business man approached him. He seemed more of a loan shark or conman than an actual business man but his brother it seems ran two hotels in town. Running into him at a hotel while changing cash he spoke excellent english. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Later in the day some material was purchased for the purpose of designing a banner for the Snow Leopard camp site, a lovely skyblue colour and silken material. It was taken to a sign painter to transcribe the firms logo. The final result would be quite attraactive to Ajeet.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back at the Snow Leopard base camp an new problem was rearing its ugly head. A group of locals, proclaiming they were students had arrived on the beach, later in the day, around 4:30. They were in any country and at any age, true assholes. With clients already on the water , four of them who had paid to be their, these took boats and gear and simply left with them. Finally, realizing they were not appreciated and weren't haveing fun anyway they got off the water and left as abruptly as they had arrived.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The plan was to travel southwards and take in some site seeing. First however, they were to accompany a raft load of guests down to the Rishikesh site. they'd leave their paddling gear with the Snow Leopard staff and head to the buses from there. Up at around 0600 for the rafting trip and a group of sikh businessmen who had arrived from Delhi and Bombay. One was a stockbroker from Delhi who was also studying law. He recommended a large Indian Corporation as an investmenet - Reliance industries.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Other other of interest was involved in the Plastics industry. He had just come from a large dealer show in Delhi, so large it is only held every four years - a kind of Olympics of trade shows he had said. He left his business cards at the camp. In India everything is a business oppotunity. The rafting trip, however, was less eventful, almost boring really but it was good to be back on the water again. The contrast between the hectic travel on buses and the bustle of the pedestrian and bajaj traffic on the streets and the busy markets was stark. There floating on the river, with fresh air and sun and the mountains all around was peaceful and reward enough. It was good to be boating again.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">I must go out and boat again, my north is calling south again and fish are swimming home.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The two kayakers took out just before Rishikesh, changing into dry cloths and leaving paddling gear and boats on the raft to finish the journey. they were at Laxshman Khula beach. it was already noon. It had taken them threee hours to do the complete trip from Snow Leopard Basecamp to that point. They set out immediately for the bus terminal aided by motorized Rickshaw, the bajaj.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Arriving at the terminal they learned they had moments to spare before the next bus left for Hardiwar, the city they had passed on the way up. The fare was a pitance but the distance was short and they arrived in a flurry. Hardiwar was a major center and the bus station was packed. It was also extremely dirty with the public washroom in uncoverd and open outdoor stalls that had the encrusted crap of a thousand - make that a hundred thousand travellers and had the stench of it as well. Welcome to civilization.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The fare from Hardiwar to Pushkar in Rajistan was to be 300 Rupees for the pair of travellers for a bus ride which was to be about fourteen hours long. The road were pocked with pot holes and washboard - extremely rough. The seats offeren no legroom and the bus was packed, too packed for words. The Bus driver and conductor were no doubt being paid by commission and they packed the crowds in and what a crowd it was.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">On route to Rajhistan, a large and desert like province of India located on the mid west coast the locals have distinctive dress and style. Almost always clothed in light silk, the men wearing huge and colourful turbans of brightly colour silk and usually with immense mustaches. The women equally vibrant with chains running cheek to jowl as decorated piercings. On that bus were the Rajistani and with their billowing garmets beneath one could find their children. On that bus trip the legs were trapped by the children sleeping on the floor beneath them.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The bus ride had turned out to be a full seventeen hours, an exhausting trip to say the least but both travellers, though tired were not so bad for wear and tear that a good nights rest would not solve the problem. Somehow, during the night Gerry had lost his camera. The two prepared to walk back to the bus station from the Natraj restaurent where they had finally stopped to have a breakfast of Toast and Jam and curd yoghurt with banana pankakes. It was the most westernized food they had had since arriving in country. They had arrived at Pushkar and now they had the problem of finding that camera. That was to be a futile effort in a country where most people are basically honest, with 1 Billion of them, even with that sorry and small percentage of thievess is a huge number.</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;">kayaky</a></b></span></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 6"></a>Chapter Six</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Away to Pushkar</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The expedition to India was never planning to include paddling exclusively. The bus ride to Pushkar was the price that had to be paid to access the interior. Pushkar was a tourist town - an oasis sitting in the middle of the desert that is known as Rajistan. This is a place where the day time temperatures can exceed 40 degrees Centigrade during the hot and dry season. It is also a really nice and somewhat laidback community, and a stark contrast to the two weeks spend in cold and wet in the mountains of the North Gharwal region. Up early the next morning, pleased that all systems were functioning according to normal parameters, and well rested after the bone jarring trip in the two were ready for some exploration of the area. The Hotel Poorsoorie, a rather classic example of a tourist flop house was extracting about $2.5 per night. It had become rather clear at this point that except for the fact that they were not working it was almost impossible to live back home for what they were spending to travel. He remembered at trip he had taken to Princeton, New Jersey where he had spent about $200 in one night for a room at a pretty basic motel/hotel. In India it would have been possible to stay at the Poorsoorie for almost an entire year!</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A large part of the ay was spend listlessly at the Restaurant NATRAS eating and listening to the music - wathcing ht e crows at the shop’s below from the third storey restaurant. The chairs were the big wicker type with comfy pillows that attached themselves to ones posterier and exponentially increasing the force of gravity, compelling one to stay there, and simply sleep. Everything they served at the NATRS was delicious and mercifully spice with rationality. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Finally they left to firm up their hotel room for the evening advised that since the town was overflowing with foreign tourists the availability of rooms would be slim. The town - a virtual mecca or hash - though formally illegal is to be found everywhere. For example, a drink of it at the local NATRAS is not on the menue but available as a Bang Lassi, essentially chocolat flavoured yoghurt and ice with hash mixed in. At the Poossoorie a room was obtained and this time they had been given a padlock to secure their room allowing them to travel about unencumbered by packs. The Inn keeper had assured them of a peaceful night, not advising them of another tourist in the room next door who had quite a different evening in store for her. She was a tourist who had contracted the dreaded delly belli and had already gone through the diarhrea stage and was about to start the vomiting and totoal purging stage. All through the night, she retched until about 0700 in the morning where the dry heaves had left her exhausted and she collapsed in her room.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">During the next day the two were even more suspicious of anything they put in their mouths, but still somewhat less guarded. Our hero had taken to walking out of town towards a rather high hill outside the city. It appeared to be more of a butte or mezza not unlike something one would see in Montana or South Dakota in the United States. It was hot and dry yet on route several large Banyon trees, deciduous plants with huge roots and large leaves which grow to enormous size and live to extremely old age. The locals were going about their business although slowly and in time with the sun and the heat - their large turbans and saris reflecting vivid colours in the mid day sun. Their animals equally photogenic were oxen and camels, goats and sheep.From the distance it was clear that Pushkar was an authentic oasis, circling a lake approximately one half a kilometer across. The Lake had not been visible from within the town because it is entirely surrounded by Ashrams. Pushkar is also the site of religious pilgrimages like so many other sites that combine water, food, shelter and markets. The trip to higher ground had made that oasis more clearly defined now and even more exotic than one could image as the sun heated the sand causing noticieable heat waves rising all around in stark reflection off the whitewashed buildings circling the oasis.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Starring out at the sight was pleasing but not entirely gratifying. The solo traveler often is able to access sites and sounds that may be difficult to attain when traveling with a partner. Partners very often have different agendas, wishing to see different things running country to a common plan. Its not unlike paddling down a river but once on a river the general direction is downstream, not necessarily to paddle a rapid, - some in fact are walked - and that sometimes is a point of controversy but generally the diretion is uniform. Other aspects come into play, the level of fatigue, the desire to stop and rest or for that matter simply empty a boat of accummulated water. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But one dry ground with the limitations to options removed and so many other things to see and do the variations in personal agendas grows. So this view that was enjoyed in a strange country and quite exotic location could only be enjoyed by one whose sensations could not be heightend by the experience of verbalizing and sharing that moment with another. It limited the ability of the mind to strengthen that image for future reference.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That was the downfall of the solo traveler for nothing will traveling is less satisfying than seeing such a spectacular site but being unable to share that experience with another person. It was a basic truth he had come to understand on this trip that the experience, however, powerful was not enough for him, it had to be shared to be truly gratifying. It turned out to be a critical aspect of his personality that he had been unware existed. Not until that moment had he seen it in himself and he wondered if that was a revelation that was kept from him until this moment.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Often the basic truths about one’s personality are kept hidden from them. One of the reasons is that very often others are loath to reveal their perceptions of another to their face, instead keeping these things to themselves or perhaps sharing them with another behind their backs. Things like speech impediments, personality flaws, poor hygiene and the like progressing to more intimate details like perceived coldness, or aloof bearing. Things that one may or may not be aware is communicated to others.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Up on a hillside overlooking an oasis in Rajistan that is what was going through his mind.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Slowly he made his way back to the main townsite, having worked up a proper appetitie from his trek up the hillside. Back at the NATRAS restaurant he stared down the menu. It was a good selection of western choices which was greatly appreciated considering the ubiquitous DAL (lentils), rice and chick peas that had sustained them until that point - indiscrimiately spiced. Instead -the choice was towards chocolate -0 two ice cold Banana Lassi’s, and spaghetti with chai, washed down with Teem soda pop and the remains of another tourists Pizza and french fries of all things - which had been generously donated by a dutch traveler who had succumbed and simply ordered too much. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Following that most substantial dinner the need arose to walk yet again and so he set out to stroll through the shopping district, finding a few odd pieces of clothing, shorts and pants that seemed not to make any dent at all in his cash reserves. The things were simply not that expensive. The day progressed. Meeting up with Gerry, they joined at the Rainbow Restaurant and decided to have more pizza, which while very good lacked the classic italienne spices. Ironic in a place overflowing with spice. Stuffed nonetheless they made their way back to the motel and crashed. It had been a full day overflowing with visual and gastronomic delight and they slept well with full and most importantly stable bellies.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next morning was a slow start. The plan was to make their way back to the large center in Rajistah called ASJMER where they would take a train to Agra the home of the Taj Mahal before returning to base camp in Rishikesh. They planned to complete their paddling on the upper Bagharathi River or possibly the Yamuna river. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The train was not organized to accept telephone bookings and as a result they headed out by bus to AJMER, a city of 250,000. The bus was to take them right to the train station but stopped about a kilometer short of that destination and they set out to cover that distance on foot. Making their way to the station they could see all manner of transportation on the streets, the three wheeled motorized rickshaws or Bajaj which they had found in New Delhi were not so numerous. Fortuneately this reduced the air pollution in ajmer with few oil buring and gas spewing two cycle engines. In their place were other three wheelers with large passenger compartments to the rear of the driver with large wheels and large windows. There were ambassador sedans, all beige, carrying roofracks loaded with baggage. Camels and oxen pulled carts, some with wooden wagon wheels others with pneumatic tires, drivers on foot, driver on cart. The city of Ajmer was alive with transportation but the two found themselves strangely, on foot.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">At the train station they learned it wasn’t possible to purchase tickets until 17:30 and it was only noon. That meant they had five hours to kill and that they’d have to carry their bags with them. The station itself was not an option. It was a filthy hole in which people lay on the flow and languished in the heat, with pigs and cows trotting in and out eating fallen orange and banana peelings. One sow had an entire contingent following her, learning the train station ropes at a young age. The cows and pigs had the run of the city. The devote Hindus did not eat meat and believed in reincarnation. Those pigs could be the incarnation of some relative on route to enlightenment. The cows were considered sacred, the embodiment of the top level of existence. The muslims, and there were mosques in Ajmer, did not eat pork and acquiesced to the ban on killing beef stock and so religious detente exisited within the city.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Standing outside the city was a true photographic opportunity, with camels, carts and taxis passing by every second. Gerry parked himself at a cafe and order some yoghurt with banana and his companion decided to do the same. They planned to visit the Palace of Akbar to pass the time. The palance had been converted into a museum and contained offices of the curator and staff on its second level. While the items on exhibit were very old they were also in very poor condition. After a disappointing hour there they left for th Daraugh Bazaar in a horse drawn riskshaw since the moto they had hired to take them to the palace was no where to be seen. The horse driver adviced them to walk to the mosque entrance to the bazaar in respect to the dignity of the place and so they disembarked and walked down the promenade with their shoes removed.Within the Mosques walls there were almost as many Soukes or shops as there were outside selling good and fabrics. The mosque itslef was only one part of the complex. while they did not enter the inner part of the mosque they did deposit a few Rupees as a donation which was the accepted thing to do in that place of muslim holiness. An enormous copper cauldren had been set out in the courtyard for the expressed purpose of receiving donations from all who entered.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They proceeded back to the trainstation where the ticket office was finally open. The trip to Ajmer to Agra was to cost them about 80 Rupees but that price included the right only to board the train. It did not include the price of a seat on the train, for that one must pay extra to the conductor. If one wished to sleep, again there was an extra fee to be paid to another train official. the Train system in India is run like a complex Dutchy with every tin pot bureaucrat exacting their pound of flesh leaving the average citizen, as one might imagine quite thin.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Throughout their travels the sight of poverty was pervasive. India is a country of enormous contrast, from the very rich to the very poor. There is a middle class which is growing in size and in influence but the crush of humanity is great and the poverty stands out in its visibility. It is a common sight to see women holding babies gesturing their hand to their mouth as if requesint food. they are in fact, asking for money and very often those infants have been rented out, unbelievably for the strict purpose of evoking the sypathetic response one might predictably get from tourists which is precisely why these beggars locate themselves in parts of the cities where tourists are expected. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A story was told also of the invalids, those missing arms and legs, who impossibly are said to have had limbs removed to increase the beneficance of onlookers. India is a strange country and the sight of beggars, professional and otherwise is one that the traveller wishes not to be immune to but must as a matter of course, become indifferent to. No amount of money in the world is enought to change the economics of a country the size and scope of India.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The conductor had been reached and paid off for both seat and berth on the train to Agra. The train would run all night. In preparation for the trip it was decided to seek out a store that sold beer and have a good pint prior to departure. A cabbie was located who confessed to knowing where such a store was located and took them there. The beer was sold in extremely large bottles, and was warm as piss. Having purchased the beer, they found it could not legally be consumed anywhere including in the small restaurant they found where the owner was quite adamant that it could not be consumed and were instructed to go to a tourist guest house. Of course, that was not going to happen for they were on route to Agra and the train would be leaving in short order.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Both were feeling more at ease in country getting used to the food and the odd quirks of the society they had temporarily entered. Their minds were getting used to the barrage to the senses by stimuli of all types. The smell of shit, still pervasive in the air but somehow the noses filter it out as the baseline condition. Yes, India is dirty, the light cottons the two were wearing had become grey from the dust and grim from the buses and the rickshaws. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Finally on board the train at 20:00 hrs, having met with the grievance officer, to complain about having a ticket with no accompanying seat. Finally a berth was secured as well. Due to the graft and corruption, any gain that we had made came at a loss to others who had made other arrangements with the train officials. As a result the trains were overloaded and double booked in a pathetic state of organized confusion. It turned out that they had now been reduced from two berths to one that they must now share, an upper berth that would carry them to Agra. Both ended sleeping flat out, with their feet in the others face on a flat bench aproximately two and a half feet wide and seven feet long with flimsy padding. Amazingly enough they were able to sleep which was more than what was achieved on the seventeen hour bus ride into Pushkar from Hardiwar. By 0742, the train still on the move, both had been up and attended the trains lieu. The train had stopped briefly on route and immediately swarmed by CHAI vendors who ran to the trains and served up their tea in clay pots. The tracks were strewn with the broken fragments of those pot which were tossed out the windows after being emptied. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Pockets were double chequed for belongings. A few items that had fallen out during the night from pant pockets were found on the floor and then retrieved to the relief of their owners. Finally the train arrived at the Agra station. It was 0830, they were rested, more or less, hydrated with chai and the whole day lay before them. A cab was hired to drive them around the city for the entire day for the princely sum of 50 Rupees or about two dollars. The first planned stop was at the Red Fort of Agra. The red Fort of Agra was built in the 1600’s by Akbar but subsequently finished by his son, the famous Shah Jahan. The fort shows the Shah’s attention to detail. He had been born with an architect’s flair that was not to be rivaled even until today.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The fort’s battlements covered a perimeter of about 2 kilometers and the walls themselves were 20 or more feet thick. While on tour of the sight the two reach a lookout which oversaw the yamuna riverbed and in the distance they could see the Taj Mahal itself which was the ultimate act of love of the Shaj to his dead wife. For the Taj Mahal is actually a mausoleum for the Shah’s beloved whose death had so moved him he seconded the services of the countries greatest craftsmen and artisans for over 20,000 man years to construct this wonder of the modern world.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Rejoining the hired motorized rickshaw, they proceeded to a fresh Dai shop and onwards to visit the Taj itself. Passling through the battlements, soldiers greeted them and request they leave their bags behind by military personnel as a precaution against terrorists planting bombs in this most significant of Indian landmarks. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">No written description of the Taj Mahal can do this installation justice. On a clear and sunny day the first glimpse one has of the Taj in the morning is of a brilliant dome reflecting blinding sunlight off its white marble exterior. Standing almost a full kilometer away from the entrace it stands monumental and large yet so well proportioned to its surroundings that the retangular pools leading to its entrance strangely diminish its size. The stunning sense of proportion and design cause one to stop and wander at the love the Shaw held both for his dead wife and for architecture for him to have created such a monument. Twenty years in the making produced the fine white marble structure inlaid with both precious and semiprecious stones. the Star of India Diamond had been placed in the archway of the entrance but was stolen by the English conquerers years ago resting in the royal crown jewels, a persistent irritant between the motherland and its newly independent colony.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Within any given marble panel one could see leaves and flowers, vine tendrils and branches creatively laid into the substrate using agate, jade, ivory, carolstone and other such delights. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The day of touring neared an end and the cold marble was beginning to have its predictable effect on the ailementary canal but they had to walk outside the complex. Pausing briefly for photographs our hero pointed out to his companion that the picture he was about to take had cost about $3000 so he had better not screw it up.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Outsid the compound almost paradoxically lay at franchised shop for United Colours of Beneton the provocative clothing merchandisers from Italy. The sign of the store was clearly visible near the entrace to the Taj. The cab driver asked the two to visit a carpet manufacturer and they decided that they would do that as a favour to the man who had driven them around the city that morning. The prices were at a high and there was no way they’d be lugging those carpets around the country with them so they declined profusely at every offer. No doubt, even at $500 for a 6x8 carpet they were worth it. Taking anywhere from six to eight months to complete the carpets were indeed beautiful and works of art. As a result the meetings with the carpet dealers were brief, they weren’t buying so it was on to the bus station. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Again the problem of purchasing tickets reared its head. It seemed to be easier to simply flag a bus down once it had actually left the station rather than formally by a ticket and wait to board it prior to departure. Waiting for the bus was interminable and the two went in search of a cold lassi and predictably lapsed in consciousness forgetting that the ice that went into those drinks was made from the local tap water. It was risky consuming those drinks, they had been in Indian now for almost three weeks without incident and didn’t want to break that record. Unfortunately they had consumed them and though they felt somewhat safe were now vulnerable. In Shalla, god willing they would be safe.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Now after a good crap they both wait for the worst if it is to come hoping of course that it never does. In keeping with the theme the bus stop in Hardiwar is its usual shit hole. Human piss and shit in an amalgam of animals including the ubiquetous cow dung rises up in a hellish fumé. But public sanitation, there is a total societal disregard for the privacy of bodily function here. On the bus they watch incredulously as a young woman, beautiful in all respects physical firmly plants a finger up her nose, gives it a good rhyeme and successful in her mining expedition flings the buger across the sidewalk. Never mind - that’s Inda.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">On the Bus from Agra to Rishikesh, at least as uncomfortable as the one they took in the opposite direction, they prepare now to sit up for the twelve hour trip. But the bus ride is uneventful and largely painles although tiring. Arriving in Rishikesh early in the morning there was one of two choices to make. Try and gain a cab to take them to the remaining distance to camp or find a room. Our hero chose the later. Stubbling upon the Mehta Hotel at that hour the only regard was for the bed which fell into with absolute abandon. It seemed, however, as an instant, when he was awoken by the infliction of loud indian music. It blared at an alarming decible level. Irritated but exhausted he strived to sleep through it by burying his head into the meager pillors and under jacket and any manner of clothing and with eyes closed tightly he somehow slept through it.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It was only later he was told that he could control the volume of that music coming through the PA speakers in his room with a simple switch. That music normally came on at 0600 to awake lorry drivers. the Manager must surely have found it odd that that music was allowed to blare on for so long. such was the extent of his fatigue he could sleep through it.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Exhausted, a pail of water was orderd up and he washed up. There was some diarhea but no cramps and so was manageable. Naturally concerned about the integrity of ice waer used in the lassi consumed in Agra but after almost 24 hours it was felt that he’d probably be all right. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">After a couple of stops in the local market he made his way back to the base camp via thumbed Lorry. Plans were being made now to continue on and paddle the Yamuna river. To access it required another trip up into the mountains to a resort area near the town of Musoorie. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next day they were up at 0630. No ride was prepared for the trip back to Rishikesh but they flagged down an army truck after the boats and gear were carried up to the road from the Snow Leopard Base Camp. Despite some gravol that was consumed, the grunt work of taking the boats up the hill incombination with the scarffing of the egg ommelette took its toll. By the time they had been in the army truck but a few minutes with the exhaust filtering into the back of the Indian Army trooper truck he started feeling sick. Within a few more minutes he was literally barfing out the back end of the tailgate. This was an image his traveling partner would recount with glee many times in the future.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They stopped in Rishikesh before the turn off to the bus stand. He went to the Pandis Road tailor shop but they are closed. Just as well, the fresh air and walk settle his stomach. Back to the bus stand they board a bus to Dehra Dunn where they actually miss the next bus stand and have to put the kayaks and gear on the roof of the moto rickshaws back to the Musoorie Bus Stand. Drug induced sleep, largely from the Gravol make the trip to Musoorie sleep by smoothly.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">By 13:30 they arrive but learn there would be no further buses north to Naugoon so the decision has been made to put up for the night. The town of Musoorie is a mountain resort. all there are currently preparing for the busy summer season where the heat in the cities such as Delhi and Hardiwar drives the citizens into the much cooler mountain regions. Many renovations are underway. The town has all the amenities and they decide to have dinnner and are greeted with the customary hot and spicey cuisine. At least that has not changed. The town is quiet yet that evening there was the constant sound of dogs barking and construction underway. It seemed as though a truck had unloaded an entire box of bricks in the room next to the one they were sleeping. Still, it was a beautiful sight up there. The lights from Dehran Dun were flickering below and in the distance. Both were up at 0730 and met up with a group of people from Middle Town, New York, who , also touists were most fascinated by the concept of mountain kayaking that these two had undertaken.</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;">kayaky</a></b></span></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 7"></a>Chapter Seven</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Regroup and consider the Error of One's Ways</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">That night they dreamed. Of past transgressions and sins some vivid, some weird and misty and troubling. Filled with positive and negative images. It might have been the mountain air or something in the Lassi’s they were drinking but both were plagued by visions of the past, present and future.</span></b></span></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It might have been a tad late but the thought occured to them that once that trip was done the river manager for Snow Leopard was to take the gear back at base camp to New Delhi in preparation for their trip back to Canada. Strangway was a reliable sort and they had little doubt he would do as they had requested but if there was a flaw in their plans, that would be it. Those bags contained their passports and airline tickets. It occured to him equally that there was a vested interest to see the two of them again, they hadn’t paid their bill to Snow Leopard.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They have been waiting at the bus stop for about an hour, and none stopped for them. The Hindi magazines they have procurred were next to useless distractions and there were no takers for an offer to swap. It was learned finally that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The two had found the bus stand one of two and as you’d expect, it was the wrong one. They gathered up their gear and carried uphill to the next stop. The bus was to arrive at 13:30 for departure to NanGoon. By the time they had reached Nanibag it was the basic problem they had before them was quite simply that the yamuna had no water in it. By the time they’d reached Nanibag it was clear the situation wasn’t about to improve. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Another problem was that our hero had discovered to his horror that his spray deck was missing from his paddling gear. Without it , it was impossible to paddle even the most modest whitewater. How it turned missing was itself a mystery since it was in the gear bag with all the other paddling gear when he had last paddled. That was with the sikh industrialists back at the base camp.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The plan was to kayak the Yamuna and then travel back to Rishikesh and then on to Delhi. That paddle wasn’t going to happen. Gerry had made an informal arrangment with a lorry driver to take them both and their gear back to Dehra Dunn. He was leaving at 0500 early the next morning. Nanibag was a very small village but fortunately there was one guest house and that was where they secured a room for that evening.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next morning the rooster started crowing with the sun , it was 0400. Had the circumstances been any different that bird would have been a dead duck but here the timing was excellent. They were up and ready to meet the lorry driver. The driver, true to his word was ready for them at 0500 and so off they went. After 45 minutes they were stoped at a mandatory road gate used for vehicle inspection. Though the gate was closed they proceeded with their own mandatory tire inspection and found that one was low and bald so the driver proceeded to make a change. By that time it was light enough to see the river in the valley below. It was in fact very boney and unpaddleable. What a sombre coincidence that the spreay deck would not even have been necessary. Still they had come a long way only to discover the missing piece. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The number one rule of preparing for a paddling trip, make sure all your gear is together. The inventory goes like this: for the head: helmet, sun block, eyeglasses and strap, nose plugs, and sun visor or cap. For the body, underwear, neoprene suit or dry suit, thermal layer, life vest with whistle and river knife, spray deck also called a skirt, for the feet, river shoes, sandals and neoprene socks, and paddle.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Important safety gear also include spare paddle, first aid kit, throw rope, and carabiners. Last but not least some energy food and water.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The lorry took them as far as Dehra Dunn. It was only moments later that a bus arrived and they piled their boats and gear onto and into it.There was not, as it turned out, even time to have a glass of Chai. On the bus there were all manner of student, cramming for some sort of computer test, furiously pouring over their text books. It was one more irony about the country of great contrasts. The bus was packed with people, and it was getting hot and stuffy yet not one bothered to open a window. It was bizarre.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Many spoke english so he asked the question, “why not open a window” - “too chilly” was the reply from one not so distracted by his books. It must have been 80 degrees Farhenheit.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The bus dropped them off ust outside the Rishikesh bus depot and again only moments later they were on the bus to Rishikesh, and this time the transition was even smooth, one to the top of the bus, life up the boats, tie them down then hop down and into the bus for a nice smooth ride through flat and pastural surroundings. By the time they had reached Rishikesh it was the first time they had had to hire a cab to haul their gear. Our hero stopped outside the tailor shop and picked up his bunny suit and said hello to his friend bulla next door who was enthused to see him. He wanted to buy his read jacket from LLBean and was determined to make a trade. There was no way that deal would be made because the trip back home was through London, england and the temperature there in March was not going to be very user friendly.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back at camp there was still enough time to drop off the kayaks and snap a few pictures in the fading light.One of them was of the new banner that had been prepared for the Snow Leopard Expeditions Base Camp. It had turned out very well, with the silver coloured leopard and a periwinkel blue background. They used the extra time to clean up their gear and grime off their clothing. Unfortuneatly a jar of peanut butter that had been purchased had broken and created a mess of things in one of the bags. Note for others: Don’t haul glass in bags with clothing. Peanut butter and fine sand makes an almost inpenetrable mortar mix.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Still they were glad that both their gear and cash was intact and still at the base camp and had not been sent into New Delhi as was the original expectation. As well, the missing skirt was located. Sure enough somebody had taken it out of the gear bag before the trip - probably to dry it out. It was safe and sound in one of the gear chests. This, however, did not absolve the other of the need to check his gear kit prior to departure for the trip. Finally, though, there was no reason to assume the piece had been removed.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They sat out under the parachute tent as the sun receded on the horizon. The white sand reflecting the spring sunlight. The ganges, flow exhoribly to the interior, with its very special water glistening in the light as well. Disolved in its currents were said to be minerals and elements capable of neutralizing the filth and sewage that it had been subjected to as far upstream as Tehri on the Bagh. By the time the water had reached base camp it was running clear with a sofe greenish tinge.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That evening a side trip to an abandoned house was planned. In pitched darkness the two had been invited to visit a socalled haunted house. Rather that but on proper footwear our hero passed on his boots and dawned for the first time, sandals. It was to be a stupid mistake. Walking alongwith the group and to the rear his flashlight lost power and suddenly found himself immerse in darkness, standing on a slight trail on the side of a mountain. He missed his step and tumbled an eight foot embankment. The ground covered with xerophytes ripped at his flesh with their thorny branches and leaves. On another occasion and with worse luck this could have been fatal. Fortuneately his only injury was skin abrasion on his head and left toe. But as a result when the group finally returned and met him sitting their on the trip which he had with great difficulty reattained he had difficulty walking.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That night, of all nights with his ability to walk properly compromised discovered that he had to use the latrine, some 100 yards from the Bhagarathis tent. He never made the distance, after about 50 feet, the crap began to run down his leg. Embarrased but powerless to stop the simple forces of body and nature that confronted him he headed down to the river to wash out his shorts and underpants. It was dark enough he could barely see his hand in front of his face. The next morning he found he had the runs but no cramps.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He remembered the sage of his traveling parter gerry who, three years earlier had reached his fifthteeth birthday. “There are three things” he said “that one must remember at this important time of life, number one: It’s later than you think, number two: Never waste and erection and number three: “ and this was the odd one but its meaning had become clear to him after the previous night, “Never, ever, trust a fart” . He said the last one to the bemusement of thoe present.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">With diarhea looming, it certainly was true, never trust a fart indeed. It would either be silent and deadly or runny, either way, you won’t get away with it.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next day was spent at base camp cleaning the cloths and wounds and generally recouperating from all the travel. Typically our hero had been injured but it had absolutely nothing to do with the kayaking, rather, stupdity had reared its ugly head on that inane outing to the haunted house. He shook his head in disgust with his own stupidity. By this time his throat was getting a little sore and it was clear that he was getting a cough. It was clear that the day off from travel was necessary, for the next day they’d be on the road again with guests that had arrived from the American embassy in New Delhi. Their return trip had begun. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In his pathetic state, limping along, fighting off a cold, the memory of his soiled cloths still fresh he though about his family, finally after five weeks. He hoped they had been patient with him. He considered himself a jerk and that his life had lost any sense of purpose or meaning. He recognized that the trip had not really changed anything. That night he would be packing his gear for the return flight. The paddling was officially over. Only the basics were going into a smaller carry on bag. He thought about the need to change basic aspects of his life and try and make a fresh start.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next morning they carried their gear up the embankment to the highway where the bus had stopped and was taking on its American passengers plus a couple rough looking canadian paddlers. Sitting at the back of the bus, on route to Rishikesh, our hero, already feeling poorly from the cold and the injured toe was feeling, as usual, queasy from the ride.He had not taken his gravol and the motion of the bus was immediately starting to get to him. Alas, on this bus there was no escape. The windows were of the type that pulled down from the top, and there was no way he could reach up and vomit out the window. He quickly took off his hat and threw up into it. True to its design specification, that gortex cap held the spew intact. The person sitting next to him perceptively grabbed a plastic bag and the thing was quickly thrown into it and sealed. It was a pathetic site indeed. Gerry would later kid him about his queasy stomach many times. He’d thown up in his presence about three times during the trip. The rest of the spew had been dumped out the window and it ran down the side of the bus, truly a disgusting sight. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Arriving in New Delhi they disembarked from the bus and hired a motorikshaw which took them to the Gandi Guest House. by 19:30 both were feeling very tired. The cold had gotten worse, with sore throat, coughing and sneezing. He just stayed put in the room. Later he went out and picked up a few souvenirs.</span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">kayaky</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 8"></a>Chapter Eight</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Doing Business In India</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Meeting with Ajeet did not go well. Ajeet who had seemingly intentionally not discussed the fees he would charge for the use of the Snow Leopard Base Camp and the kayaks, cost of the Bhagarathi raft support the food. The cost of all these things had come to much more than was expected and he wanted payment in US currency. So there was a disagreement. For something that was estimated to have cost $300 US maximum they were both faced with invoices for $900 US. Having come so far to take this trip there was no way the amount would not be paid but he made it clear that Ajeet would have to wait for his money. Ajeet didn’t know that he would have to wait almost two years before he was to be paid.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That was just the price of doing business that way. He was n’t upfront about his charges and they weren’t going to be upfront about paying for them. On top of that , he’d have to take the paddle he left up in Rishikesh with one of the Base Camp hands in partial payment. He complained that he didn’t need, that was one form of bargaining he had to deal with. Ajeet promised that he had already discounted th cost of the trip, by charging $12 a day for the boats instead of $15. But he had charge for transport days as well as water days saying the transport was harder on the boats than the river. He had charge $600 US for participatio on the Bhag expedition and on the discussions went but there was no happiness to be had from Ajeet. In the mean while his head cold was getting somewhat better but there still was a heavy cough. The big toe was healing fortuneately. He was ready for his departure to Britain. He been in Inda a month.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Up at 0300 to get the bus to the Connaught square and on to the airport. The bus was exactly on time. In progress they met another foreign traveler, Rory from Belfast, who would also be with them on the plane, all the way back to London. The procedure through security and customs was uneventful and once on board they both relaxed enough to sleep. The flight to Britain from New Delhi took nine hours and they arrived about noon, claiming their bags at Heathrow airport. It was obvious they’d need some cash for their stop over and they headed over to the currency exchange office picked up some pounds sterling and headed out to a bed and breakfast out in the Elgin Court District. The accommodation and everything else wasn’t going to be cheap and the sticker shock from the Indian experience was showing. The intention was to get the full monty as far as the Bristish experience would take them. Fish and Chips for Supper, take the tube (subway), mail some classic post cards, stop at an authentic pub and have some beer.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Now the beer itself, the thing is he found the beer, called bitters, undrinkable. He though, no wonder they’d stand at the bar and literally take for ever to drink the thing. He had to get another. He made a note to himself, do not order Young’s Bitters. It was more like some old sewer’s bitters. Heading back to the Half moon Bed and Breakfast as it was called they immediately made plans to hit the sack. They’d be up early the next morning for a bit of siteseeing.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Breakfast at the Bed and breakfast was nothing, really, toast and coffee which struck them as a humongous rip off. Still hungry they walked down the street and found a fresh pastry shop serving chocolate croissants, right out of the oven. After that it was easy to be charged for the rest of the day. Off to the subway to book tickets for a play that evening which was to be Miss Saigon at the Royal Theatre, there at 10:00 Am the line for tickets had already formed. Luckily they were able to secure tickets and the balcony seats were actually reasonable.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back on the subway the next destination was to the tower bridge for a few photographs and then onto a double decker bus to the liverpool underground station, then back to the room for a quick snooze before the show. Unfortuneately his stomach was upset again, probably from the horrid bitters and then had to endure the jibes from Gerry. He took in a bit of melon and felt better. Miss Saigon,... the show was fine but where did that helicopter come from?</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the room and one last night in the city before heading back to the airport and checked the bags. The flight was delayed and so the only thing to do was sit and drink and so they did. The flight back was mostly a blurr, back to toronto at 17:00 and as the port of entry, through customs, filling out paperwork. Again more time to wait before the next flight out to Winnipeg and his wife and kids were there at the airport to greet him. It was as if nothing had changed..</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It would be several years before he would embark on trips of that sort again. In the mean time he had to build his house, start his business, take computer courses and training during two winter sessions and take a couple jobs in between. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One of the jobs he took was as a census poller. The job required that he travel down every pathetic back road between Kenora and the Manitoba border and there were many. Part of the assignment included drawing maps and he partly amused himself by making these as elaborate as possible. The Other position he took up part time was as a health planner for the district health council and found that to be a pleasant change of pace and an opportunity to earn some real cash. He had been selling and installing polystyrene forms for concrete. He had actually build his own home out of the material. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He remembered the day when he had begun the job, sinking up to his boot tops in the gumbo that was the clay substrate on the property he had been given by his father. Sure the price was right but it needed a lot of work. Clearing the land was hard physical work, burning brush was the highlight. There was a sign of things to come when one of his neighbors stopped while still sitting in his pickup and snarled that he was destroying the neighborhood. That turned out to be the ill spirited Larson. The kind of guy who would walk into a bar looking for a fight. If he was dour, then his wife was doubly so. So the work went on. The first task was to put a set of footings in. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A large catapillar had to be brought in to clear the site that had been selected and dig right down to the bedrock. This proved to be much harder that it initially appeared. The rock in Northern Ontario was unpredictable with large drop offs and intermixed with the clay were huge boulders. They were pulled out of the pit and laid out like a pearl necklace along the road. the clay pulled out was used as a bas for the road that was put in along those boulders. Later it was to be capped with gravel.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One point in the proceedings the cat operator stopped and just shook his head. the rock below was almost sixteen feet below grade. That was going to pose a real construction challenge. At the far end the rock was more forgiving and formed a kind of pass, large enough to drive a vehicle but that plan was too late, the die had been caste. The footing were the next step.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">For this he hired his boyhood friend to do the work, operating under the name of village construction. He was slow and methodical and charged a fair price for the work. Watching them was an education in and of itself. There was little conversation between he and his assistant. They had to set up some vertical posts, some of which sat on rock cribs. To these was strong steel wire used to maintain the line of the footings which were being poured as flat surfaces on which the forms were to be laid. A grade beam was necessary, essentially forming a beam spanning across irregularities in the surface and resting on pillars of concrete. Beneath the beam would ultimately be filled with gravel and there would always be a well of moisture sitting in what would essentially be a rock bowl but that couldn’t be helped. The first course of forms was set. It was the hardest part of the operation. Each form fit into the other like lego blocks. Reinforcing rod was laid into each one and wired into place. Row after row increased until the foundation of the cellar had been laid out. The one corner was to be 16 feet high, another corner ten feet high, within the middle a hugh hunk of terra firma, later to be known as the bat cave. It was solid rock with only one row of forms sitting on top of it. Worse yet it was sloped in such a way that almost surely ground water would seep through.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The day came when that formwork had to be filled with concrete. He was going to hire a concrete pump. He had never really built anything before in his life. Suddenly he was about to pour concrete in a formwork he had laid out which was to be the basis of his home and his business. The hours before the trucks were scheduled to arrive he went through the motions, checking and double checking. For the high wall, he had to cut holes in the form and pump right into the wall. Once that was done, he’d have to head back up to the top of the formwork and top it off. It was exhausting work but the nerves and adrenaline kept him going. That day, just as the light was fading, the walls were poured and straighted as much as was possible. The bills were paid and the beers were cracked open. Phase one had been completed and nothing had come crashing down.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next step was to lay in the cisterns which would hold the water. At that time there was no plans to bring town water into that site but have it trucked instead. That was going to be an onhoing expense but it seemed that the water was ultimately going to be sent up via water line and only a matter of time before that happened. So in went the cisterns. They were hugh yellow affairs, large enough for a man to stand upright inside. Though not heavy when empty they were awkward required them to be rolled into place.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Some might later say that the big rock should have been blasted out of there. That a well should have been put in, that a concrete floor should have been poured, that something else should have been done, but in the end, there was the reality of the budget and the lack of knowhow which contributed to mistakes being made. Still the work somehow got done.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Once the big yellow tanks were in place the next step was to lay out the flooring trusses. There were to rest on the large center beam that had been laid into the concrete . The trusses were of the engineered type and later proofed to be too spring even though the criteria was carefully specified. He’d been let down by the engineers and it was annoying. some of the problems could have been solved with an extra supporting beam but again it was too late. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">There was a simply rule of construction that he learned and later would not forget. First, things in building need to be straight, plumb, square and also level. There is a second point that it is always better to overbuild than to risk the consequences of under building. Use two nails where one would do, use three where two would do and use screws where nails would do. Use screws and glue where screws would do and so on.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The truth of the law of overbuilding would come back a few times. Building to specification is a little like tendering out a project to the lower bidder. Invaraiably something in forgot or lost in the equation. Mistakes are made.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The other basic problem in putting something like a house together is that you learn as you go. Often the job is complicated and you become an expert at it only just as the job ends. It means that one is constantly training on the actual job to be done. Some are better than others at applying their knowledge in situations like that. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next phase was to lay those wankey trusses down and cover them with plywood so that floor could be used to construct the frame of the second level. The problem is the ends and the supports for the walls. Nobody told him about those things. What seemed like extra trusses were actually for placement at each end. Instead scabs had to be put into place to support the ends of the 5/8” plywood that was laid down. The trusses were made of 2x4 dimensional lumber. Nobody is quite clear why it is advertised as such because these are actually one and five eights by 3 and five eights dimensionally. There was so much to learn in this expedition of construction.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The problem with the trusses is that they had to be laid in plastic bags to protect the ends from the effects of concrete. They also had to be provided with nails so that the cement could adequately anchor the ends and prevent the wall from moving. The plywood has be be glued as well as screwed into the trusses. Ideally the heating coils could be laid into the trusses prior to the flooring being secured but that is another story, suffice to say that he had to lay the pipe in from underneath later on.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">So it finally got to the point where he had laid the first course of forms ontop of the foundation. The floor seemed level and that was an achievement but.. it have a bit of a bounce to it. Boxes had to be build for the windows that were ordered. The windows would be screwed into those window boxes afterwards. The boxes were used to secure the openings and hold the concrete. There were to be a lot of windows, all were going to be the operating type and the order was secured on a weekend trip to International falls. It was ironic that he could order windows from the United States and pay duty and the difference in the Dollar and the Canadian Dollar and stilll pay less than what could be purchased localled. Still they were trucked in and laid out at the site. Each window box had to be treated with protectant against moisture in the concrete.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The site was visted by the fellow who had started the company that manufactured the forms. He was a dutch Canadian and had a heavy accent. He had conceived the idea of the form while lying in bed in hospital after falling off a roof while clearing snow. His back had been broken. He turned that initial idea into a forturne then bailed out. Hank turned up on site and looked at the progress of the job. He was concerned that the walls were not quite square and instructed that ropes be secured, one corner to another and pulled with a come along to pull things togehter. They used a 11 mm climbing rope that had been purchased at the MEC in Toronto years earlier for the purpose of rapelling. Now it was being used to haul some corners into square. He wondered if the manufacturer of the elderid would approve. Still the job was done.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He instructed that one of the corners was going to be weak and that care should be taken when pouring the cement. He later proved to be correct. He got back in his motor home and left, never to be seen again.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">As the forms went up on the second level the site of the structure taking shape was encouraging. It was first structure of its kind to be erected and the gawkers would driver up the hill trying to look like they were only coming for a nonchalant drive then having to turn around at the end of the drive. He looked at them going through the motions with a certain sense of self satisfaction</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The final course was set and vertical rods of steel were laid into place with reinforcing placed all around the window openings. The trucks arrived shortly afterwards and the process began. It was a much larger pour as more concrete was needed to fill the walls intotal despite the window opennigs. the biggest problem occurred when just as Henk Menson at predicted a form gave way on the week corner. Fortunately it was easily accessible but a full yard of cement had spilled on the ground. He raced to the corner and somewhat shocked proceeded to repace the foam and tack up the corner with 2x4’s . He instructed the pumper to refill that corner and move to another area to allow it to see. About an hour was lost in that mishap and towardst he end of the pour it had actually started to get dark. The pressure was on to level up the window boxes and clean up the equipment before the concrete all hardened up. It had been particularly difficult to put the headder boards into place and make sure they were level as the roof trusses would be secured to them. In the end it was all done and the as the trucks cleaned u pthe beear came out and thanks were sent out all around.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Later it would become clear that one wall was not plumb and been pushed out. It was too dark to see the problem and the wall cured that way. Lessons learned, too late. Perhaps he thought that should appear as his epitthet.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The roof trusses arrived a day later. The low bed truck arrived from Fort Frances and held the massive single span truses. They were fully 40 feet long. The neighbor who had since been renamed “Dickhead” had seen the lowbed come in and intentionally drove his pickup truck to the head of his driveway to prevent the trucker from pulling forward into it. The trucker could be seen mouthing the worlds, “What a fucking asshole”. While unloading the trusses, which could be carried by two men, the end of one sprung up and struck him in the left side, probably cracking or at least severly brusing him side. It was ironic, the things he had been through over the years. He had taken the most hits in the constructon trade. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The intention was to hire a crane to raise th large trusses into place because that would be safer for all the people who would come to help him install them. The most important of all these helpers was Robert “Skip” Orton. The first and last names were probably never spoken more than ones or twice. Skip was a man of few words. He was trained as an electrician but really tackled many different jobs. He was hard working and realiable.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">When the crane arrived, Skip headed up to the roof. Each truss was slung up to the roof line. Skip would tack 2x4’s into them to hold them together, not really worrying about the distance between them. Finally all of th trusses we secured in a more or less up right possition on the roof. The gable ends had been send and they too were placed on the roof.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">All in all the process took a couple of hours. Most important of all was that noone was injured in the process. Upon the tops of the trusses is lade exterior cladding. The ideal material is 1/2” spruce plywood but the building code allows 7/16” wafer board. Its a poor substitute. The problem with it is it is fine, as long as it stays dry, which could be a problem, depending oon the roof in question.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The plywood comes from the factory in a square condition, fortuneately. It has to span the trusses which are set in increments of 24”. sometimes nailing them into place can be a problem. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The stress on the bones and muscles from nailing and screwing, lifting and shoveling was starting to be felt. Every bone in his body ached. He had lost weight, down to 169 pounds, less than he had been in high school. There was nothing to do by keep on going step after step. This was real work and there was much more to do. He had been given instrutions to see a massage therapist who turned out to be a young girl he had baby sat as a teen ager. She worked out the ached and kinks and sent him back out. the next task was to be hauling that awful plywood up to the roof for nailing, more nailing. Then , atop that was to be placed the roofing strip and shingles. Black was the colour selected, and it was very hot to work with. Each bundle heaved upon the shoulder weighed in at about seventy pounds and one by one it was carried up the ladder and placed on the roof at various points. From up on the plywood it one corner was a good three stories up from the ground and the landing would have been quite unuser friendly. Something they done always tell the user about shingles is that they are made from recycled “everything” likely irees and have pices of steel shard in them. when handling the shingles they stab the unsuspecting roofer like the barbs of the xerophytes in the off trails of the Gharwal foothills.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">All during this time the weather had held. It had not rained for weeks on end. Finally the roof was up, clad in plyboard and covered in shingles. It was then that the rain started. Not that the sky was all that dark, in fact it was a light sky and the sunlight could be seen streaming in from under the clounds illuminating the bottom with a light almost golden light, and yet those were very heavy clouds and the rain came, and it came. It poured more than five inches in the course of an hour, testing that roof and not a drop came through. There were rivers running down the driveway and actually washing out the roadway partionally from the collapsing embankment.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The bare structure of the house sat at the top of the hill and unfinished it was an imposing structure, 26x48 feet in outside dimension with a high peaked roof it dominated the neighborhood. The drive leading up to it was straight on and it circled around along the string of boulders that had been moved during the excavation.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The day came when it was time to put the windows in place. A fellow by the name of Tom Newell came by to assist in the process and the windows, held in place by a plastic moulding were quickly screw nailed in place. The whole process of installing $12,000 in windows took no time at all. Soon the entire exterior of the building was closed in except for the fascia and soffits.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">At this time his wife’s mother and father and sister came for a visit from their home town in Earlton. They had traveled by motor home recreational vehicle along highway 11. That was a trip that would normally take 18 hours of continuous driving. They arrived, took a look at the place and within three hours were back in the motor home heading back in the direction from which they had arrived. It was very odd indeed.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">When the time cam to start installing soffit it was obviousl that the instructions for installing this material are unclear. Much can be done to simplify the process but so much in the construction industry is secretive because so many make a living by keeping others in the dark. The process he learned was to install a channel around the building to rest the soffit. The Soffit must go on first, he learned too late, having installed the facia all around and then found he had to jam the soffit into the jchannel then back into the facia. We live and we learn and then there is home building. He cringed at the mistakes he made but questioned whether or not he’d want to try and do that again.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The issue of home building is fundamental to the human condition. All specieis of animals are inevitably taken by the urge to build their own domicile. While some take their home with them like the turtle , very often we humans tackle the task of home building. It is exhausting and exhilarating. Much of the success of the project involves adequate planning.</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">kayaky</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 9"></a>Chapter Nine</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Mediocrity Breeds Success</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The high school years are either good or bad but usually never a mixture of one or the other according to most teenagers. Largely due to their total lack of perspective its little wonder they might perceive them so. Everything is such a big deal. One of the most common misconceptions that burden them is that they are trapped within a kind of bubblegum prison where things are preordained. You are largely type cast by those with whom you hang and perversely, birds of a feather often flock together, geeks find themselves other geeks, jocks find themselves other jocks, nerds find nerds and so on. Every once in a while an individual comes along who defies description and pigeon holes and as a result is regarded by others with a fair degreee of suspicion. “Is he with us, .. or against us” is the question that is raised in the minds, when the reality is much more straight forward, sometimes he is and ... sometimes he isn’t.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">This is the story of our hero, who never seemed to sit well for long in any pigeon hole before smartly moving on to the next. As a jock there was a tendency to play basketball, he was tall and could short half decently. As a nerd, he always did his homework and could remember physics equations by heart. As a geek, he had his calculator long before others and honestly liked classical music and shakespeare. He had outside interests, studied Judo, and played chess. He had girlfriends and a part time job. To confuse matters, he smoked the odd joint, liked to dance and have a good drunk from time to time. He probably hung out a bit too much and stayed up a bit too late, being known to fall asleep in the most unusal places and positions.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">This was a fellow who clearly didn’t fit in neatly anywhere.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He was spiritual without being religious, he was moral without being too honest, he was creative but not artistic and he was atheletic but never the classic jock. Never aspiring to be grade A at anything but quite content to be a solid B in practically anything. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Whether is was others perceptions that Grade B was never good enough, by way of comparison, a master of all trades is never ranked as well as the Master of One or two for that matter. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">So it was that our hero was practicing as usual during the spring warm ups for the school track meet. He used the fosbury flop, a semi atheletic move where the jumper releases from a single foot and falls backwards across the bar with one arm leading the way. He was successful at 5’6” and never got any higher, but with steady practice and persistence he got to the point where he could attain that height consistently, in fact.. he never missed, not once. It got to be so casual he could walk up to the bar and still meet that height, rain or shine, windy or calm, laughing or poised, there was no way he would miss that height.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Meanwhile there were the jocks, they were the once who when through great pains to measure their paces to the bar. They ruminated, and planned, agonized and grimaced. Many times they would reach unheard of heights, they could leap like antelopes and in some cases exceed heights of six feet. They were a marvel to watch. One in particular, by the name of Roger Perry was renouned for his histrionics. He would pace off his distance, take a quick bounce in the air and prance towards the bar with great looks of determination in his eyes. The effect was mesmerizing. Taking off at great speed from what seemed an equally great distance from the bar, he would sail over like a great leapiong gnome. It was a sight and often a crowd would gather just to see him practice.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Of course there were others, and they all had achieved heights that exceeded that of our hero. It was taken for granted that they would represent the school in the regional track meet when that event was held just weeks following the local meet.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The day of the local meet arrived and most were quite happy to get the day off with a day spent largely standing around waiting for one’s event to take place. The high jump was no exception. The locals quickly had the bar up to the height of 5’5” and it seemed that everybody was making that height and that applies to our hero. One after another everybody seemed to make that height, that seemed to be the make or break height for everybody, but no. When the bar was raised once again it never looked back. Finally three other jumpers, as predicted managed to exceed the height and one reached the lofty score of 6’4”. Our hero was fifth and by the usual practice was eliminated from the regional competition. That was expected.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Two days before the regional track meet, however, there was news that one of the best jumpers had come down with appendicitis and would not be able to compete for the school. The track coach was upset and frustrated as it had seemed like a lock that his prize jumper would win the regional event and with that added prestige for his school and not coincidentally for this coach. But that was not to be. However, it was also the custom, more of a courtesy actually for those who had consistently come out to track practice, to allow the competitor out of the ribbons to attend the regional event as a substitute.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">And so it was that our hero, who had taken for granted that he would not attend the meet, and work on his frog dissection instead was designated as the substitute jumper in the high jump event and would attend the regional meet. His expectations were low for he had already been beat by the others in the local competition and in fact, he knew, that his personal best, hadn’t changed in the last month of practice. It was nice to know he was selected. Like so many other sports he had participated in as second string basketball player, and second string or special teams football player or runner up in racket sports, he was fulfilling his destiny as jack of all trades and master of none.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">For the occassio of the trip the school board had rented a motor coach, the kind usually used by Grey Hound Bus lines. These were a vast improvement over the rather uncomfortable yellow school buses that other teams had to use. But this was a pretigious regional event and the entire track team was to be transported to the small border town of Fort Frances, some two hours away.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He sat on the bus on the way down beside the lovely Rita who for some reason had chosen to sit beside him on the bus. She was in a running event and wanted to sit at the front of the bus where he had positioned himself and then promptly fell asleep on the trip to Fort Frances resting her head on his shoulder. Being a gentlement he didn’t move an inch the whole trip, quite content the heady aroma of her long brown hair. This was high school afterall. It was the first time that a girl had taken the initiative and sat with him and though he thought it was somewhat forward, he liked it. It had removed the need for him to show any kind of initiative. He thought that she could have asked him to do anything, and he would have complied, including giving her the seat to herself, but no, there she was happily sleeping with her head on his shoulder.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">By the time they had reached the Fort the weather had become overcast and it looked like the weather would not be too user friendly. Most of the track events had to be held out on the field. There was no alternative. Meet organizers reasoned that all the competitors should face the same competitive conditions. Equality and egality for all. Since most of the events had to take place out of doors and that applied to the the high jump as well.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The venue was the parking lot beside the Fort Frances High School Gymnasium. They could have just as easily scheduled the event to be held inside but the fates were set that day and there was no changing the minds of the organizers. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">When his event began it really was overcast. One by by the jumpers made the opening height of five feet. That was when the drizzle started. By the time the all of the jumpers had made the opening height, the asphalt leading to the bar was quite damp, and glistened, it even became at tad slipperiy. As the bar was raised to 5’5” more and more of the jumpers began to miss the height, toally freaked out by the slippery conditions, the generally lack of the conditions many of them had prepared under. The crowds were thin, the landing mat was wet, it was noisey and a bit cold. He turned to one of the other contestants in the track event and said to him something to the effect that he thought he might have a chance to get in the top four. But without missing a beat the retort was, “top four, no way, he said, you’re going to win!” He stood there in the drizzle somewhat shocked that somebody believed in him more than he seemed to believe in himself.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In his mind he had pictured all the things he had done in school, the girls he had been on dates with, and the things he had done. He also thought of all the dyed in the wool jocks. They always seemed to date the cheerleaders, the best looking and most intelligent and talented women in the school. This to seemed like some preordained fact of life. He saw himself on the outside, never quite making the standard, happy with his achievements but coming to terms with the fact that those achievements were never that outstanding.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">By the time the bar reached 5.6 most of the jumpers had defaulted on their second jump. He was nervouse about the competition but , as you rightly know, he always made that height and approached the bar confidently as usual. Up and over and left standing to watch the remaining jumpers attempt that height and surpass him as they usually did. The thing was, that one after another, they grimaced and pouted and fretted and shook their heads, as they consistently either slipped or faulted , until one by one they missed that simple height. The competition was over and our hero, almost implausibly, had won.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">So it was was after the event was over, he found himself awarded the red ribbon and it was in fact, the first red ribbon he had ever won in his entire high school career, making it even more sweet having received it in his final year. As he walked back to the bus at the end of the meet he took his seat and leaned back and prepared for a pleasant snooze on the trip back to Kenora. But just as he was about to nod off the track coach walked onto the coach. He was a large man with a fiercely deep voice and gruff demeanor exacerbated by his froth of black hair and unruly black beard.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">“What’s that?” he asked pointing to the red ribbon proudly displayed on our hero’s chest. Its a red ribbon , he replied witha grin, I got it in the high jump! What’d you jump?, he said with an almost sarcastic tone in his voice. It was with a somewhat ironic smile, that our hero answered. “Same as always”, he said with a grin, “5.6”.<br /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm">kayaky</a></span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 10"></a>Chapter Ten</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">So What is it You wanted to know?</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The near death experience is something that people talk about objectively as somebody else’s experience for once it is heard that one has had a near death experience one is likely to react the same way as if a close friend has just tried to sell you insurance or recuit you to market AMWAY product..</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Its only natural to be curious as to why a friend one hasn’t’t seen or heard from in over a decade has called them at home late in the evening. Its the business opportunity they say as the schpeel unfolds. The reality is they could give a rat’s ass about that person or the friendship if ever it existed.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">People can do strange things in the name of Network Marketing. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But the real stories of near death experience are fascinating and in some cases inspiring. He knew of three people who had similar close calls. One, who had been a volunteer trustee of an an organizatio he had worked for was a case in point. As a teenager she had been swimming on the shore of Lake Ontario with friends and found herself diving underwater and then becoming disoriented. She claims she was swimming to the bottom, but in reality she was drowning. She remembers, as she swam and this is partly why such accounts are less than totally believable, that she felt warm and encountered a white and soothing light. It was only when her friends had recovered her and put her back on dry land and revived her using AR that she got quite irritated that her friends had removed her from that warm and soothing place that she had encountered. She did not want to be saved. If that death like experience was so peace provoking and in her words “wonderful” it is no wonder that her own view of death and dying was changed radically in that moment of peace and warmth. She recounted as her life unfolded , the many occassions that the threat of death or imminent death no longer caused fear in her. If affected how she made her decisions and how she led her life. Certainly, at moments when others around her seemed about to loose their heads or even panic, she was able to maintain a sense of serentity, calm and focus that may have been possible without that very significant occurrence in her life. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Naturally, with or without the memory of a near death experience to provide a foundation for one’s personality there is no substitute for a native intelligence, and other pure characteristics of personality. It could be argued that she would have been successful in her endeavors no matter what came her way. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That does not suit the romaticism of many people who simply want to believe that something exists beyond themselves which can intervene at key moments and give them the strength of conviction and even of body that normally they would never been able to muster.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Another women, purely by coincidence that he had met was convinced that she had a near death experience while undergoing an operation to remove, of all things, her teeth. She remembers a white light and a tunnelike effect where she was being surrounded by warm feelings, memories of friends and relatives, good will and a feeling of safety. On this occassion she remembers becoming conscious during the procedure and rising out of her physical body which was lying on the surgical table and unconscious. She remembers seeing that body, her body, lying there under ventilation, surrounded by bright operating lights and the dentist and anethetist and dental assistants who rushed and seemed concerned because that body had stopped breathing. There she floated surprised by what appeared to be a silver thread that attached her to her body.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He had met Florence on the occassion of the wedding of his best friend in Toronto. Florence was to become his mother in law was entertaining him during his visit and recounting this story. The details of this were almost too much from him but he was staying with them and they had been drinking a little and strangely he felt totally at ease with Florence. Her joie de vie and generally cheerful disposition had enchanted him. He found himself totally enamoured with her as she told this story of near death. She recounted how that experience had changed her life and given her the ability to face challenges without fear of consequence, with the knowledge that what ever happened, in her words, “ there is a far better place that waits for all of us”.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Those were words of motivation and hope to a man who had been emotionally flat and disengaged from himself and his own emotions for so long it had been years before he had felt anything close to the feelings that welled up within him while listening to Florence recount her story.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That was the funny thing, that he was never so close to his own feelings as when he was listening to others speaking to him about their own as if by osmosis they could be absorbed somehow fulfil an even greater purpose.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The near death experience, was not limited tothe recollections. Even though there had been the recollections of others there was the knowledge of how close he had come on more than one occassion. He had been buried alive once, in a sand pit. That was the one time that it was obvious that inspite of the contests and local lotteries that never paid out, he had his own horseshoe firmly planted. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He was 11 or there abouts, digging away in the local sandpit with a couple of friends when the sand cave collapsed and buried him with barely an airpocket to breath. His dog, a large and resourceful St. Bernard by the name of Remus began digging them out and made enough noise barking while doing it that he also attracted a man who by chance also had a shovel. His life was spared that day. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He learned, about two weeks later that the older man who had dug he and his friend Stephen out of the pit had himself died from the complications of a heart attack. Its probable that he had pushed himself in order to save the lives of he and Steve. That there was no medal and no recognitiona and probably no thanks, made that news sad. Remus, on the other hand was simply content to see his pack intact and receive a big hug and scratch behind the ears.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A few years earlier he had been picking choke cherries with his sister at the bottom of a ravine near a road when some others began hurling rocks. It may have been accidental or perhaps it was intentional but on of those rocks improbably struck him squarely on the head and split his cranium open. It began bleeding profusing as most head wounds are likely to do. In tears and shocking up he made his way up the hill and made it to the first house along the road and washed of in their rain barrel. Although the bleeding had then stopped the blood continued to seep out. His sister had made a call to their home which was a good two kilometers away but it wasn’t necessary. Their mother had had a premonition and was already on route, picked the two of them up and delivered to the emergency ward of the hospital where he was stitched up. It might have been five or ten and now that his hair is gone, the scar is there to remind him of how lucky he had been. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">More Luck. Some years later it finally ocurred to him that he had been lucky in situations where others would not. He had chosen a risky pastime, whitewater kayaking, and did have a close encounter on the Kipawa River. He had been living in Kirkland lake, working as the Financial Director of the Hospital there. The Kipawa River was three years in the discovery, found by chance after a conversation on a chairlift in the middle of January. The car he had traveled in to get to the ski hill still had the kayaks on the roof from the previous night’s pool session where they had been practicing eskimo rolls and braces. It turned out that the other person on the chair was also a kayaker from Rouyn Noranda and recommended the Kipawa River because of its large number of challenging rapids.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">So it was that he found himself paddling on the Kipawa River practially every weekend. He had a chance to meet the proprietors. They were a young couple from Orem, Utah. Just describing the adventures of those two would be a work in its own right. The trips were challenging in those days. The paddlers would arrange a shuttle vehicle which still had to part almost a kilometer away from the take out at the bottom of Hollywood rapid which emptied out into Lake Temiskaming about 25 kilometers south of Ville Marie Quebec. The rapids of the Kipawa river were numberous and challenging but he had the rare privilege of naming them with a paddling buddy by the name of Doug Skeggs. They had gone together on many a weekend. On one in particular, they ran a portion of the Hollywood rapid that had never been run before. It was a point of lower water volume and the day had been good and their skills had been sharp. He got it in his mind that he could run that section of the river, relayed that fact to his paddling buddy and headed down the run. It was the head of the dragon as it was later to be known and after collecting himself in the natural recovery eddy that formed at the halfway point he paddled over the waterfall, an 8 or ten foot pour over that has by now been run many times. Back then, it was as far as anybody knew, the first time. Later, when he moved from Kirkland Lake, they paddling group known as NOLAC named that portion afterhim, calling it “Pete’s Dragon”, a name which it keeps to this day.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But Pete’s Dragon was not always to be held only in found recollection. It does, in fact, provide mixed emotions. The rapid is friendly to those who travel its lines upright but many paddlers, including the proprietor of the Kipawa River Lodge, Scott Sorenson, have separated their shoulders on that run. On one occassion, paddling with a local group, our hero had upset at the head of Pete’s Dragon, attempted and missed two roll attemps at the point where only two could be attempted and was swept down the entire run, and over the water fall to the left where most boaters never go. He remembered getting banged about pretty well with his life vest and helmet absorbing several good rocky hits. But most crucial aspect was at the bottom of the water fall which had a fairly good recirculation to it and held him firmly against a boulder at its base. He was caught spread legged pushed face against that rock much like a bug against a windshield and it would have held him there underwater except that that he somehow had collected his thoughts for a moment and decided he simply didn’t want to end up dying, pinned against that rock and if he wanted to get off it he’d have to do something. With all the force that he could muster he pushed himself off and was carried downstream, the current collecting itself in the pants that had slipped off his legs acting like a great sea anchor. Fortunately he was able to grab hold of a rock mid current and pull himself up in a shocked and exhausted state.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It was a close call but in moments like that the mine was numbed, too exhausted and too shocked at the events that although had happened within minutes had seemed like hours,, with the mind racing with each second, a lake of thought flowing through his mind like the rapids flowing with the current.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That swim was held fast in his mind. It was with him every time he paddled the Kipawa. It took about two months to recover from the cracked ribs bruises and contusions that he had collected on his swim down Pete’s Dragon but the Mental scars were carried withim like an overnight bag, everywhere he went. Every time he looked at a kayak run, whether it was the University on Superior, or the Gaulley or Cheat, the question had to be asked, “what are you prepared to sacrifice”, if the answer was not everything than that river was never paddled. Since that time he’d seen others swim from their boats but none faced the kind of ordeal he had.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Karl, had a close call. He’d set himself up to run McCoy’s rapid on the upper Ottawa River, the portion called les Roches Fondu (boiling rapids). In the late 1800’s it had been the place for log drivers to test their skills but today a great recreational resource for rafters and kayakers, afficionados of whitewater. Karl thought through the moved, as it had been described to him. He was to side slip one of two holes, the first occuring on river left. It was called Satler’s hole after the Austrian slalom champion who had been the first to side surf it. Satlers hole was a monstrous hydraulic, a portion of river hydrography where the water pours over a ledge and then as water does, rushes back up stream to fill the resulting depression. Satlers was large and frothy. Any boat caught within its recirculation woudl be tossed severly and for extended duration. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Satlers was intimidating enough but just down stream of it just as the water moved quickly along side it and downstream about fifty feet was an even larger hydraulic known as Phil’s Hole after Phil Coleman. See Satleter above, being the first to run rapids often results in a moniker being applied to the river feature. The move was to side slip past satlers on river left and then was the current calmed but reversed its direction upstream due to the hydrauling the paddler was to quickly move to the left behind it and catch only the tamer left side of phil’s hole. Most begginers didn’t understand the idea of coming so close to a hazard like Satlers. It was counter intuitive. The natural tendency was to try and paddle straight ahead and further away from Satlers. Unfortunately this was precisely the wrong thing to do for it took the paddler into the teeth, literally, of Phil’s hole. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That’s exactly what Karl ended up doing. Karl was immediately recirculated, within his boats, flipped end over end and side over side, the large “tupperware like “ R5 providing more than enough buouancy to cause the ride to be even more spectacular from shore. But then an unexpected thing happend. Karl bailed out of his boat, not surprisingly but as he ejected he found that his wrist had been caught in a subaquarian crevice in the rocks of Phils Hole. It was unheard of. Karl was left to troll within that monstrous washing machine caught on the band of his wristwatch until that too was finally pulled from its mooring on his wrist. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Down stream our hero was in the eddy beside Horseshoe rapid, in his Prijon T-Slalom Whitewater Kayak. He had decided to defer front surfing the wave called Baby Face in favour of entering the Horseshoe hole on river left and side surfuing. The crowd wishing to do that move was much smaller and besides, every time he tried to surf baby face it almost always ended up as a ultra dynamic front ender where the boat’s bow is caught by the current and thrust downwards causing the paddler to be thrown upwards all at once. The net effet is must like standing up in the boat with the nose eventually finding itslef perpendicular to its normal attidtude in the water. As the bouancy of the boat catches up with the weigh of the paddler and current very oftern the boat is ejected from the water at high speed , sometimes actually being thrown entirely clear of the water or causing the boat to flip completely upside down, crashing back down in a spectacular and crowd pleasing manoever.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Karl was just above all this, released form Phil’s hole and badly shaken as his empty boat passed our hero and then no far behind the boat, was Karl. Leaving that hole he went after Karl who quickly grapped the back end of the kayak using the grab loop for purchase. The ordeal had been sufficiently traumatic that he simply hung on while the paddler frantically made his way to shore, where Karl eventually climbed out of the water and sat on a rock while others collected his boat, paddle and other gear. He shook his head, not really thinking or speaking until finally he got the energy to say.”It had me by the wrist, I thought I was a gonner”</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The near death experience was one that had crossed our hero’s path. He had seen it and he had heard about it and he felt he had come close but he had never experienced it.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That was one of the real mysteries of life. Either others were a bunch of fat assed liars or there were things that were passing him by. In retrospect, why should it be unusal that the lives of some should be totally foreign to him. By a twist of fate he had been born to second generation immigrants of the Ukraine and Poland. Their lives had been difficult in order to make his own comfortable. He was living in the best possibly the safest country in the world. It certainly was one of the most properous. So many others had lives that were much more difficult and short lived.<br /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm">kayaky</a></span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 11"></a>Chapter Eleven</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">You'll never know what hit you</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">We live on a planet that is at once large and very small. In this universe it presents us with a home while we endeavor to find ways to leave it and explore ever outwards into space. Had the earth been any closer to the sun and it could very well have been uninhabitable due to the heat that one finds on Mercury an and Venus. Further out, like Mars and Jupiter and the climate becomes too cold and barren. No, Earth presents us with the perfect setting for human existence, - a paradise. The moon, in orbit around our planet is the perfect magnet for interplanetary debris and with the naked eye we can easily see the pock marked surface that has received the meteors that could have cause significant damage to life on earth had that impact been on terra firma, even with our atmosphere’s ability to burn up incoming extraterrestial bodies. And we benefit from the planet Jupiter’s large mass, acting like a magnet, pulling in comet’s like the Shumaker Levy that could have destroyed life on earth as we currently know it. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">We have not been good caretakers of our planet. As the human population has increased we have taken liberties with it, using the oceans as our industrial toilets and the atmosphere as a garbage can for industrial pollution.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">This is a planet both large and small. The features that seem so magnificent and large to us on the surface are but tiny blips compared to the overall size and mass. Mountains present fewer irregularities to the planet than would normal imperfections on a ball bearing by comparison. The biosphere, the thin layer of oxygen, silicon, carbon and other trace elements and minerals is wafer thin yet encompasses everything we value. Only our limited powers of perception make it seem unlimted and disconnected from the whole body of the planet. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He considered where he would go on his travels. North, south, east or west, the options seemed to be limited only by the bank account. He needed to build up his savings in order to travel again but he’d been lucky in the past. On a rare occasion, the same year his first son was born he took a trip to Greece with his wife. The trip was to last three weeks and on that trip they were to meet with his sister Pat. Leaving Kirkland Lake and driving to Ottawa, their little PJ was to stay with Louise, who had offered to take on the little tyke for that short span of time. From Ottawa they traveled by bus to Mirabel airport in Quebec where many of the international flights were being handled outside the city of Montreal. Within a few hours they had landed in Madrid as a stopping over location, staying overnight only briefly and then traveling on to Athens the next day.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">His sister was there at the airport to greet them. She was working as a nurse at the King Faisal Specialist hospital in Riyhad , Saudia Arabia. All expatriots were asked to leave the country during the period of Ramadan and other religious holidays. These was one of those holidays that allowed her to travel to Greece. Her pockets were flush with cash and she fully intended to spend it. She was overwhelmed to see them. It had been several years since he had seen her having been working in Northern Ontario for many years now and she had been working halfway around the planet and traveling to countries in the far east.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Finally they were together again and no sooner had they met than they started planning how their travel together would progress. She wanted to rent a car and drive around the country and hired a rental BMW 518I for the trip. They would spent a few days in and around Athens visiting the Parthenon and acropolis, perhaps a few stores and restaurants and then head out and explore the country. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He was the designated driver and after years on the two decrepit lanes available in Ontario the madness of driving in Athens was nerve jarring. Strangely in that organized confusion, there were no mishaps or very few of them. Cars worked on a simple rule, if you could get in front, you had the right of way. That was true, even if there wre only inches to spare. To add to this mix were the motocyclists riding between the lanes and in one case that he saw, up and over a vehicle that was movign too slowly. That was unusual.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The three days spent weaving in and out of traffic were free of mishap and finally they decided to head up to the northwest to the small and historical site of Delphi. In Greece, the roads are marked with small grottos that have been erected on the site of motovehicle acceidents. Its a usual site to see a small glass encased box sitting on a white picket enclosing flowers and pictures of the deceased. It did not make for comfortable driving as they wound their way through the increasingly mountainous terrain. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Delphi sits high in the Greek Coastal mountains and was a magnificent site for archeiologically significant temples and icons. The gynnasiums and olympiads were wondrous architecturally fine creations set from marble in idyllic surroundings overlooking the aegean sea. The number of temple erected in tribule to Greek Gods and mythology was significant especially at Delphi where it was felt that its situation was amenable to communication with the gods. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">After securing a room they slept but he awoke, partially because of jet lag, partly due to indigestion but he walked in the early morning light and tried to capture the essence of that place, and wathced as the light came up over the ocean and the mountains, hidden as it was from the rising sun on the western face of the country.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The temples were mostly vandalized structures. It had been common practice in days past for conquerers to lay those structures to waste to demoralize the population. It did not escape him that the work of vandals has been a scourge of human civilization since the dawn of time. The amount of effort required to topple those massive ionic and doric columns must have been significant. It was sad that those in charge could not have used that energy for some more worthwhile pursuit. Fortuately enough had been left behind to provide a glimpse at their former greatness.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It was a human tendency for humans to deceive themselves with the illusion of permanency in their constructs. It was many years later he had traveled to Drumheller in alberta to see the remains of Dinosaurs. In that area know as the badlands, it was quit clear how the passage of time had been signficant prior to modern man’s arrival on the scene. It was possibly to see how primorial life had began with each fossilized record revealed as the glacial streams washed away dirt, clay and sand to reveal perfectly preserved artifacts. These were, animals that had lived and dominated the planet millions of years ago, likely extinguished by the one force of nature that had the power to stop them, a large exterrestial hitting the Yucatan Pennisula had caste the world into a deep freeze as a result of that impact. The consequences were immediate and sudden enough to fix an almost photographic fosselized record of those animals to serve as clues to the clueless men that would come forward much later.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The presence of such ancient structures was a sober medicine. In some ways it was demoralizing because of their age and immensity. Even his more grand accomplishments paled in the face of them. These were created by great men of significant intellect, appreciated of all things beautiful. It was their artistic and architectural beauty that was most uplifting. In a world of men who would pull them down there were others that would one day build again.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">From Delphi they traveled further north and to the sea itself to small resort towns and fishing villages, soaking up the quaint whitewashed buildings, the deep blue mediterranean sky which had been carefully accented in the family homes throughout the country. Many of the homes had the look on them as if they were still underconstruction. All were made of steel recinforced concrete. But the upper floors, many still had strands of reinforcing steel sticking out as if waiting for the next level to commence. It was all a tax avoidance scheme on a national scale for the payment of property taxes was deferred or for that matter simply reduced had one been able to show that their homes were still under construction. Many of them, for that reason, were permanently under construction.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The single most identifiable characteristic of Greece homes was the white wash though and it was many years later, high up on a rocky dome in Kenora that he would try and replicate in his own way those quaint whitewashed structures that he’d seen in Greece. Unfortunately it was sad fact that Kenora was not in Greece, did not possess the magnificent Cerrulean skies or the equally blue Mediterranean. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Somewhere along the route through the mountains his sister got the crazy impulse to drive. She had rented the car afterall, and though she had enjoyed being chauffered in the back it came upon her that she wanted to give it at try. True, she had her driver’s licecnse, but in Saudia Arabia women were not allowed to drive and it had, in fact, been years since she had been at the wheel. Nonetheless, there, on one of the more signficant mountain roads she had decided to try her hand again. He was requested to pull over. It was an uphill grade and the car was a manual transimission. As she attempted to put the car into gear it started rolling backwards. Slowing and imperceptably at first but more so as she tried to find first gear. The edge of the road and the corner at the bottom of the grate fast approached. “I’m getting it, I’m getting it “ she commented as the gears ground togehter. His wife sat in the back seat more blanched than usual and with her fingers beginning to bite into the skin on the back of his hand. She was contemplating never seeting her first born again when Pat finally found the gear and the rhythm of driving again and proceeded up the hill. It was about an hour later when she decided she had had enough driving on those narrow and mountainous switchbacks and turned the wheel over to him again for the last time. He felt that she was wise to have recognized her limitations.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">On those travels through Greece the food was found to be at once exotic and disgusting. The most common dishes were simple fare, eggplant and chicken, lamb but not too many vegetables. The use of olive oil was extraordinarily heavy. A common dish was known as Cheese pie. The first taste of it was quite refreshing but by the end of the third week it had lost its novelty. Made of pastry, deep fried in olive oil and stuff with either4 Gouda or Feta cheese, heavily laden with olive oil it was a wonder the entire country didn’t come down with Arteriosclerosis. The most offensive dish of all was known as Frappé, or instant coffee, served cold, in the morning as a starter beverage, with the cheese pie. Ghastly he thought. Only once on that entire trip, and it was near the town of Delphi had they enjoyed the cusine of Greece. It was at a small bistro/ cafeteria where the food was served buffet style and was obvioulsy frequently by the locals and not the tourist traffic. It was possibly that the tourists were being bamboozled.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Along the roads phonetic english was intermingled with the hierglyphics of the Greek language. It was possibly to pick out the town by the sound of those phonetics, Thessalonika, and Alexandropolis but it was Pafka where the Beamer finally got dinged. After driving a thousand miles and through some of the worst traffic, the car lurched forward during a parking manoever, no less, and scaped the retainin wall outside a small hillside inn. It was to be recounted over and over in the years to follow, never about how he had driving without mishap only that fender ding, in the middle of no frigging where.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They reached Alexandropolis around 4 in the afternoon. The plan was to drive to Turkey but it was discovered that one could not drive a rental vehicle across the Greek and Turkish border. Ironically, Greece and Turkey, since the time of the Ottoman empire had been at war, but a highly civilized war it was. In fact, it was a war without any conflict whatsoever. Out on the island of Cypress UN peacekeepers had been keeping things fairly quiet for years and back on the mainland, although there were trenches and sandbags at the border complete with solders and automatic weapons, tourists were considered to be assets to the population and treated extremely well.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Parking the beamer at the Alexandropolis airport, it was also discovered that there were no trains, and no planes. The preferred method of transport was to be by car for hire, and a local cabby, by the name of Yonni had offered to taken them It was going to be a twelve hour trip. Yonni was going to drive with his son and he was going to charge them something like 600 Drachmas to make the jouney. The car was an early model mercedes benze and had been specially equipped with a sound system and disco lights on the dashboard. That evening the sky was clear and the moon was full as they slipped through the countryside, the three of them sitting in the backseat. Yonni had warned them that if they were stopped, they should say that there were not going to Constantinople (or Istanbul if you prefer) but rather they were going to some small town just inside the Turkish boder to visit relatives. In that way it would be supposed that they were not weathy tourists who could pay more “ fees” commonly known as Backsheesh.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">As they approached the border they noticed the battlements that had been erected. But everything seemed quite sleepy, it was one in the morning. The customs agents were taking their sweet time to receive them and were finishing off their lunches of cucumber and onion sandwiches on pita bread. “passports” was the first words out of their mouths, an of course, the question, “your destination please” and at that point they repeated the name of the town just as instructed by Yonni. Within a half an hour, they were allowed to pass. There didn’t seem to be any real reason why they dolly gatted about but finally the three and the cab were allowed to pass. they recognized the cab driver - he had been through that way many times. They smiled and waved. Some war.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">IN istanbul arrangements were made for Yonni to pick them up in two days. They were to return to the airport with them and if by some reason he did not arrive they were to take the Orient express back to Greece. The time was to be spent visiting the Blue Mosque and the Grande Bazaar.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One of the things that the North American finds confusing in Turkey is the need to barter and haggle for ever purchase. Its not that one should pay any price that is asked, rather it is considered polite and expected, as if the commerce of the day was the most important task of the citizenry. The terminolgy used by the vendors, either on the street or in the kiosks was varied and in some cases hugely humourous. One carpet vendor, and there were so many carpets for sale, said, that on his mother’s grave, he was selling as only 5% above factory wholesale. That was an interesting incorporation of the term “mother’s grave” he thought, and it stuck with him everytime he found himself haggling with a vendor. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It was clear than in commerce they were no mach for the unrelenting vendors in their pursuit of Turkish Lira and US Dollars, even better. It was interesting to see, later, the VISA bills coming through with the Turkish destinations showing on the statement. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They loved the turkish food and especially the coffee with its strawlike consistency. On their final night in Istanbul they attended a large restaurant on the adriatic. The restaurant had been recommended by Yonni and Pat found herself buying dinner for quite a large crowd, but the prices were insanely economica. The main dish was a large whitefish served on a bed of rice and served in a tomato sauce with whole tomtatoes. There was music and dancing and it was a night to remember.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Finally they made the trip back to Greece and reloaded the Beamer which sat safe and unaffected at the airport. Our hero had left the car keys on the dashboard and then proceeded to lock them in the vehicle. Fortuneately the window on the passenger side had been left ajar and the keys sat on the dashboard, of all places. He went into the airport terminal to find a coat hanger. IN greece the coat hanger must have been a rare item. The ones he found finally had been wrapped in cloth decorative strips which actually had to be torn off. Once the wire was fashioned into a hook it was a simply matter to fish the keys out and gain entry to the vehicle. It was a close call, and the stuff of future stories.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">On they drive to the sound along the eastern coast. The highways were in much better shape and they made good time, along the flat countryside. The cars moved extremely quickly and passed frequently. At one point he remembered seeing four sets of headlights approaching him head on inthe distance. It seemed that each car in succession had decided to past the other until all lanes of the four lane expressway as well as the shoulders were being used to overtake the next vehcile. He thought of the pathetic grottos along the highway in the northern passages they had traveled, he reduced speed and hit the shoulder as the train of lights continued on, as if expecting on coming traffic to do precisely what he had done. It was one of the high lights of driving in the country. </span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">kayaky</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 12"></a>Chapter Twelve</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Did I do that?</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A man can move a mountain. It might take him his entire lifetime, and he may need some explosives, but he might be able to do it. And if he failed to move it he just might be able to at least level it and turn it into an airport.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The is nothing that a man may not do given sufficient time and resources. But a man left to his own designs and abilities is not without substantial capability and potential. Nothwithstanding raw native intelligence, the is no substitute for hard work and persistant effort. Much like the potent effects of dripping water, over the ages, water laden with minerals will form rocky stalagmites and stalatites, or through the timeless action of running water, take a stone and grind it into its substrate to creat a hollow cyllinder, or pot hole.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It defines imagination that once on this planet were sheets of ice so vast and advancing so far south that they had the ability to create praires and great lakes. So it is with a single man, who given appropriate motivation may act on his environment like a force of nature.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">We have plenty of examples. The pyramids in Egypt, the mayan temples, the gardens of bablylon, Machou Pichou and wonder of wonders, the Taj Mahal. These are works that, however time worn express what is greatest about the men who built them. Not because they are necessarily that enduring but that they were built at all. That they represent the pooling of the efforts of many men towards one single minded purpose.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A single man is like that. Capable of doing great things if only he were gifted with appropriate tools and direction, most of all of the proper, positive mental attitude. The collorary is of course, equally true. Devoid of purpose and meaning in one’s life a man’s resourcefulness may atrophy and wither leading to his own demise or at least his downfall.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">For some reason, these facts, as immutable as they are in accordance with our own simple powers of observation, we fight those natural forces of transformation because intuitively we know that even lesser men serve a purpose, if not only to show clearly, that there but for the hand of God and misfortune, go they.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Even the most questionable of God’s creatures, as pathetic and hopeless they seem, are not without purpose if it is only to convince others that they have talents and virtues that best not be squandered. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In the fulness of time, a fullness which mortal male is barely aware of, those with tendencies and proclivities that seem totally purposeless may prove their merit. Whether that be a mouth breathers mindless adaptation to a Sony Playstation and video controller might be quite adept at manipulating a hydraulic shovel or the limp wristed couture of a gay designer, may lead to a more tolerant society, albeit a smaller one, due to the simple reduction in the number of births. Blessed by the wondrous desire to terminate their own speciies or at least extinguish it through lack of off spring.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">What is difficult in the eyes of a parent, however, is making the connection between their own ill tempered and in considerate progeny and the future of mankind. Especially when those exhibit alarming reminders of their own mispent youth. The humility borne of seeing ones own weaknesses in their children is matched only by the pride that accompanies seeing some hidden depth of character in those same wonder kind.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Looking up and pondering the vastness of the universe, our hero is dumb founded by what he sees as much as what he doesn’t see. There are no flying saucers, no UFO’s, no witches on brooms, no werewolves, no flying angles, no nothing of the sort. Still fully aware that what we see and feel is limited by our own pathetically limited and continually failing faculties. What more is there in this world besides what we can known for ourselves? </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He had gone to the National Library once to listen to a presentation on the life and times of Victor Frankle. A jew who had been imprisoned during the second world war was a learned man, a psychiatrist who observed his fellow prisoners to determine why some retained their sense of human dignaty while others spiralled down into the level of lesser mortals. It was their sense of purpose, there desire to see a greater meaning and purpose for their lives. It gave them the mental drive to persist and to survive where others faultered. Others, on hearing of the death of their loved ones, died the next day, while again others still kept on keeping on with the hope, and only the hope that one day they might be reunited with their loved ones and that the whole made affair would one day end and they’d get through it somehow.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He had gone to a tutorial on the use of trancendental meditation to tap into his hidden resources. He’d studied the literature on TM and learned how buddist monks could control their heart rates and breathing, their stress levels and their hitherto considered autonomic responses while in a meditative state. He had met students while in university who had pursued that black art and found their responses muted and unidimensional and wondered what advantage that presented in a world where responses are often too flat. where life fell above and below the line in a pathetic sine wave of existence, sometimes good, sometimes bad but with a heartbeat.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He had spoken to his teachers and some of them, even the nefarious gym teacher, rumoured to have killed his wife, at least in the eyes of her police officer father. Some of them, and they seemed to be reliable, were convinced they had seen a UFO or a whatzit.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But through all that, through many a night sky, through jet flights and different countries, while craning his neck to see he never did. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One friend likened himself to a christian soul living a hedonistic life, self agrandizing by any standard. Hedging his bets that if there was a hereafter he would be thereafter. As if through simply going through the motions, devoid of spirituality he could con the creator into the afterlife. “Do you feel lucky” he would ask implying that hell was an eternity likened to the time a doves wing could take to wear down a ball bearing the size of the earth. Probability versus Possibility was a non starter for him, however. For in all this confusion of messages and surrounded by people professing they had the knowledge or they had the insight he saw only the perversion of the bell curve and of basic natural tendencies. Nature abhored a vacuum. Nature rushes in to fill the void. That rolling a dice sevens enough times increases the chances of snake eyes. That the deck favours the house, that the lottery will strike only long after the lightning does. Possibility perhaps but he’d go with the probability any time, living and dying by that rather than risking a one in a million shot. After all, his own life was a one in a million shot, as was ever living person’s on this planet.</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;">kayaky</a></b></span></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 13"></a>Chapter Thirteen</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Life Flashes before your Eyes</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The trip back to southern Greece along the eastern coast and flatlands was fast and realtively uneventful. By the time they had checked in the car at the Athens airport it was getting late in the day. They took a city bus through the city to the ports where the ferry was departing for the islands the next morning.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The hotel they stayed at was on the waterfront and populated by sailors and rowdies looking for a good time. They thought it better to turn in early and stay out of the neighborhood and the next morning rolled around soon enough. Gathering up all their things they rushed to the ticket office and got their return trips to and from the island of Mikonos, one of the more popular greek islands.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Not long afterwards they were at sea. The air was fresh and the sky clear as the ship steamed its way out into the Mediterranean sea. There were to be a few stops along the way. Most day passengers, those without cabins, were quite content to hang out on the deck, soaking up the sun and breathing in the fresh sea air. Many were also tourists with their walkabout radios blaring through earphones, they for all the world were oblivious to each other.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He noticed one in particular, a woman sitting on deck in shorts. He legs had not been shaved as was the custom in those days and they were as hairy as her armpits, perhaps a bit more so. It couldn’t help stare at them as if it was a totally foreign site. Pat quickly piped in that many don’t use antiperspirants or deoderants and feigned a hearty sniff as if she could detect those odours from across the deck of the boat.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Seagulls swooped in and about to the rear of th ferry picking up herring and other small fishes. A man standing at the rail looked out at the backwash of the boat as it made its way and commented that he had once heard of someone falling overboard and getting caught in the backwash which was then so powerful that it caused his leg to break. More likely the fall from the deck caused the break. Water can be a rather hard surface falling from forty feet or more.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It wasn’t long before Mikonos came into site. The harbour was circled with small buildings which also crept along the circling hills. All of them had been whitewashed and the effect was breathtaking contrasted against the blue sea and sky, and wispy white clouds. The sun was not yet set but a crimson hue had affected the sky and those buildings making them seem almost golden in colour as they reflected the sunlight.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Securing accommodation that evening was not difficult for June was the off season. They took a room not far from the center of town and got ready to have a bite, happy that their unfamilier stomachs had not been upset by the trip. The room was white and very clean with comfortable beds. Warm touches of cypress pine accents about the doors and windows made the room quaint. The view out the window was as breathtaking as the sunset itself had been, more white buildings illuninated by the full moon of that evening, reflecting on the sea. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One of the plans for entertainment was to stroll down by the waterfront the next day and take in the various slices of island life. Fishing was one of the major pastimes. Small motorized dorries where anchored away from shore. Each had been painted with brilliant accent colours, in addition to the pervasiive white. Further down, the pier, however were the yachts and cruisers of the rich and famous. Some were 50 or more feet long, pleasure crafts probably owned by expatriots who had skipped Canada and lived off the avails of some numbered corporation, cashing their cheques against a visa account and living a generally paperless existence.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He hired a small motorcycle, a 50 cc kawasaki combination dirt and trail bike to explore the island planning to share the ride with his wife. Sitting behind them on the back they made slow by stead time. There was no real rush, the island was small and it was quite possible to see it all in a day. One of the stops was a beach further from the town site. It turned out to be a nude beach, or at least topless which proved to be intolerable to her and they left shortly thereafter.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They went to bed early that evening, but Pat headed out to the local discotecs and partied to late into the night and returned to the hotel with a heavy hangover. Too much oozo and mextaxis had had its predictable effects, just in time for the return passage. They waited out at the pier which had a small bistro and drank coffee and soaked up more the Greek ambiance, each no doubt wondering what it would be like to stay there for a bit longer than a couple of days. Their trip was coming to an end.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The seach for meaning in life can be deliver messages and revelations that won’t immediately be clear. He remembered one occassion while living in Kirkland lake he had decided on the Thanksgiving weekend to climb up to the top of Mount Cheminus and camp out over night.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He had loaded up a large packsack with what he perceived were adequate provisions, tent, mattress, sleeping bag and food enough for a single night. He decided to take his dog, Coco with him and set out around Saturday afternoon. The drive out to the base of Cheminus was about forty minutes. As he approached he could see the pot shaped rock rising up on the horizon. Mount Cheminus was a rounded pot of basaltic rock that rose up like a mezza standing starkly surrounded by much lower hills. It was a good nine hundred feet high but over the years had been served by successive generations of adventurers to had meticulously build stairs and rock steps on a path right to it top.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Parking the car, a beige coloured two door Chevrolet Monte Carlo with carriage roof, he proceded up the hill with Coco bounding first ahead and later behind totally trusting in her master. The trek was surprisingly easy, requriing only modest effort, the only objective hazard being losing one’s balance from the heavy pack that hung on his back. Finally reaching the top it was obvious that he would be along that evening. Looking around there were piles of garbage littered about as was typical of northern locations at that time. The enviromentalist movement had not really taken hold in the North, There was simply too much space and not enough sense to go around. Someone had dismantled a picnic table and left pieces of the legs littered about. Another, still together but quite rickety provided a seat to look out at the view. It was clear and the weather was cool but not unusually cold when he had started up the mountain but as sunset had approached the temperature had begun dropping alarming so. He sat there and felt the chill and quickly set up his tent and laid out his sleeping bag. As he emerged from the tent the rising full moon fully caught his gaze. By then it was getting very cold and he started a fire using the bits of picnic table and dead fall, and litter that had fallen about. As he sat there staring out at the moon he noticed that the transmission tower in Larder lake was annoyingly piercing its way up across the rising orb. It occured to him that of all places it had to be there in front of him to disturb that most impressive vista. And it was gettnig colder and he was getting hungry. The butter tarts he had packed were gone in short order and coco had already eaten her dog food and half of the butter tart that was given her. He remembered that as a puppy the Kennel had named her porky. She was eat anything that came her way, except green grapes ... and olives.’</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Now she added butter tarts to her long list of digestibles.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He had thought that that evening he could sit there at the top of Mount Cheminis and in the solitude of that place find some meaning to his life. The only meaning he found was that it was getting dammed cold and it was impossible to think about the meaning of life when he was too busy just keeping the fire going.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He say the moon despoiled by the transmission town ,and thought again about the garbage that littered the lookout which he had busily collected and burned. Technology is a double edged sword he thought.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That night was one of the coldest he had ever experience. He had brought a heavy sleeping bag with a blanket liner. He had an air mattress but even dressed in his clothes and with his jacket and touque on he found it too cold to sleep. He awoke at one point in the night to see Coco lying beside him shivering and shaking and he pulled her close to him to help keep both warmer.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next morning, just as soon as the sun rose he was out of the tent and amazed as he looked around. Everywhere there were ice crystals rising from the rocks, like mushrooms rising from a forest floor. They had grown overnight some of them were four or five inches long. Walking about it was impossible to hear the sound of them crushing underfoot with every step. Had could had it been to create such a wondrous natural carpet of ice crystals he thought.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The trip up Cheminus had after had not lived up to the plan and it was only years later, standing on the stern of the Greek ferry steaming back to Athens that it occured to him that the messages of that evening were clear. Messages quite often are like that, coming long after the fact and quite surprisingly different than one’s expectations. He interpreted this one to mean that he had to worry about keeping a roof over his head and developing in his career before he could start a voyage of self discovery. It would be difficult for him, if not impossible to find the meaning in his life living on the inside of a cardboard box.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">By the time they had reached athens almost all their money had been spent. All that was left were a few measley Greek Drachmas and a couple of turkish Lyra which they hadn’t bothered to spend before leaving that country. He laid on the bed in his hotel room the morning he was to take his flight back to Canada and Pat was to fly back to Saudia Arabia. Jokingly, he placed his eye glasses askew and she took his picture beside his wife who also acted out as the exhausted and wadshot tourist, sun burnt and tired from their adventures. He kidded them about Pat being winning the award for best shopper and her for being the best shopper in a supporting role has he held out those pathetically few Drachma bills. Nevermind, they’d be flying out the next day.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Not long after getting to Kirkland Lake he had decided to join a service club. It seemed like the proper thing for a young business man to do. It was the Kiwanis club that he started with, based on the recommendation of one of the board members of the hospital board, Ray Dionne, who was also the manager of the Weston Bread plan at the end of Main street.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Kirkland Lake, ironically named after a lake which had disappeared afer being displaced by the Gold Mine tailings from the many mines in that town was on a downward spiral. The population hovered at about ten thousand down from the lofty heights of 50,000 thousand when the mines were going full bore. Those were the days when the mines each had their own competitive hockey teams, and bands and there was excitement in the air. Now it was just tired, propped up by the government services that had been established to support that population and now largely bloated and in decline as budget cuts started taking effect.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The Kiwanis Club also seemed to be largely past its prime. A mens club, as almost all were consisted of men in their late fifties and older. Ray was one of the most vivacious but the current president, Gord Hamilton, an ex professional wrestler and current mayor of the town was more typical. a particularly pleasant man was the owner/ manager of the two theatres in town, the LaSalle and the Strand. Abby Chapman was a henpecked but highly likeable man who stood in front to take tickets while periodically one could hear the shrill cry of his wife, Marge. “Abbbbbb” go do this, AAAABBBBB, go do that”. It was comical.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Years later when he heard that Abey had died it was a tangible sadness that came over him.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Other members were septagenarians, one in particular, Archie Simpson was the perennial secretary/treasurer of the club, and had been keeping the books for the last decade. He was effusive and active in every solitary aspect of the clubs operation attending numerous out of town events and every club activity. It was his life as much as anything else could be.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">While a member of the Kiwanis club he became a vice President and made plans to travel to a convention with his wife to Aruba. While in Aruba he was accompanied by Austin Cooper, father of the manager of Northern Telephone, a division of the Ontario Northland Railroad Company. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The main purpose of the trip was to attend the Kiwanis International convention and represent the local club as a delegate. There was going to be time to see the island and get some fun and sun but most of the days were taken up with meetings.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The evening that his wife and he had arrived was a pleasant 72 degrees as almost every evening in Aruba proved to be. This little island, one of the Netherland Antilles including Curacao and Bonair were located right on the trade wind belt and the wind blew continuously, never stopping. The wind is so persistent in Aruba that the trees grow in unique configurations. The most common sight is that of a small tree, known as the Divi, divi which has slender branches growing down wind of the trunk and stretching improbably out to the side like the hair flying off its coiffed position on a balding man’s head.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Their luggage had been lost, or misplaced at the Miami airport so they went to the local market to purchase a few items. It was very expensive given that this was a bonefide tourist destination but a pair of swim trunks and a change of underwear with some toiletries were all that was required until their luggage was sent into their hotel the Concorde.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">All the water in Aruba is obtained from distilled seawater. The fuel used to run the distilleries is bunker sea crude and the smell of it hangs in the air even with the wind. The local beverage is Amstel which is brewed on the island and is a deliciousl beer. Another of the local favorite beverages is a milky liqueur called Bolles Egg Milk, a rather unappetizing name for a satisfying drink tasting much like egg nog.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">All of the hotels ran casinos. Many people, especially from Venuzuella came to the islands for their vacations and to gamble. Aruba was little more than a hundred and fifty miles from the coast of South America. This was a very equatorial location and the sun beat practically straight down at midday casting barely a shadow on the palm trees or especially at the beach.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They had made plans to go sailing on one of the big trimaran sail boats that moored off the beach. It was a short tour along the beach with beer being served. The operators wore their bandanas on their heads and with their shorts looked and played the parts of pirates.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">At one point in the cruise they laid anchor and invited the guests to go snorkeling. He dove in on a calm harbour and looked about seeing tiny fish that up until that point he had seen only in aquariums. They came to his hand when he rubbed his fingers together. But down below in the ocean bed was a far less appealing site, sea urchines, big black and thorny lined every square inch of the bottom and outas far as the visibility would allow.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One of the passengers was unlucked and let his foot accidently touch bottom and got a nasty surprise with an urchin thorn in the heel of his foot. The treatment back on board the sailboat was to pour kerosine on the wound, an odd choice which seemed remarkably effective or was it the beer taking effect.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Fortunately for he and his wife there were no injuries to them and finally it was an enchanting experience to have gone snorkeling of the sail boat in the Carribean.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The meetings were boring and most of them taken up by the polical workings of those members vying for some reason or another to become international president of Kiwanis. One was a dentist who had obviously spent a great deal of money purchasing promotional items for his campaign. It was to no avail he was beaten by another candidate who had spend substantially less who seemed more genuine and was more articulate. The Kiwanians some how muddled through and got it right.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One of the days was spent renting a car and driving around the island. That was not too difficult to do but one of the benefits was to see the opposite side of the island which was the windward side. The island was volcanic. Rising from the island were dormant volcanos which some chose to climb for a lookaround. The true nature of the composition of the island was clear on the windward side where the wind and waves had revealed the black and glassy obsidian substrate. Waves crashed into shore and plummed upwards, a far cry from the placid and sandy beaches that greeted the traveller on the leeward.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Not far from that spot was a location where the resorts dumped their food waste into the sea. It was done partly to get rid of the food waste but also to attract and feed the sharks and thereby keep them safely away from the public and highly popular beaches. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Some tourists attended Aruba simply because of the beaches and they were beautiful. The water was a balmy 80 degrees. It was actually cooler out of the water than in it. Many would simply find a deck chair and sit right in the water or set up and encampment on the beach and stay their all day with beach umbrellas and so forth, their flip flops melting in the hot midday sun. One of the biggest attractions to the beaches was for wind surfers as the wind never died down.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Our hero had made the decision to try and learn how to wind surf but it was truly the worst location for a beginner. He was never able to bring his sail up, constantly being knocked over by waves and by wind, and spending much of his time either trying to hoist up the sail or himself back only the board from the water It proved exhausting.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Years later while living in Wawa he would make anothe effort to learn the art of wind surfing while on a trip to Florida where the wind was much quieter and his instructor was a leopard ski bikini clad sun goddess who gave him all the time he needed to master the fundamentals of the sport. It was a far cry from the Aruban beach bums who could only laugh at his first attempts.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">On the flight back to Canada from Greece he thought back to the summer after the end of highschool. He had been invited to attend the 11th annual Montgomery Lions International Youth Camp in Montgomery Alabama.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Every year, the Lion’s Club of Kenora sponsored a local boy in attending that camp and it was his good fortune to have been selected. He was to meet delegates of other Lion’s Clubs from around the United States but delegates were also sent from Egypt, Israel, Sweden, Iceland, Germany, Britain, France, Denmark, and many more, 200 delegates all together. They traveled by bus through out the South Eastern States visiting other Lion’s Clubs and spreading the good news of fellowship between young men from so many different countries. They learned the lyrics to the song, “What the World Needs Now” written by Burt Bacharac, very popular in the mid Seventies. They performed that song at Disney World.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He remembered on delegate from Denmark, who had worked as an employee in a camera shop. Eric had shown him a simple card trick which involved sweeping the card behind his hand then flipping it forward to produce it from the back of another’s ear. Another, from Jackson, Missisippi named Carver Brown had shown him how to juggle three balls at a time. He had, in fact, become a full fleged juggler and had worked up an entire act which he performed tirelessly for the entertainment of Lion’s club members on their many stops.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Some of the delegates had no talent what soever. He fell in that number, but some tried as best they could. The fellow from Belgium had an act where he did his impersonation of a chicken laying a square egg, which involved hims squawking and screeching while flapping his arms with his hands tucked into his armpits. It was hysterical... the first time.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One of themost interesting of all, and a sure charmer, was from Brazil. Antonio Vivlo was his name and his had his own television program in Rio DeJaniero. He could play the flamenco Guitar and sing. One of the pieces that he played was Romance for Guiter, a haunting piece which was a sure crowd please. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He remembered hearing another play that on the train while traveling from Hamilton, Ontario back to kenora. By chance he had purchased a guitar while at university and immediately seized upon the opportunity to learn how to play that piece, by pestering that passenger until he finally got it right. It took him almost twenty years to learn to play it without missing a note but it was good enought for him. That and the fact that the guitar had been purchased with the money his dead Grandfather had left him was reason enough to derive great enjoyment from the instrument. Every time he played it he had cause to think of his Grandfather and he often did.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The memory of his travels with this group stayed with him as one of the most memorable experiences of his life. He one regret was that he was not able to maintain personal links to these men and follow them as they progressed in their own careers and lives. The delegates themselves were interesting but so were the families that chose to host them as billets. Lawry Smith, A lawyer was the head of the household in Montgomery where he stayed. He had an eleven year old son who was a competeitive tennis player. They had a tenis court in their back yard and he took advantage of it to play. The kid was a wonder at playing the net and could swat back most almost every shot he took. His dauther, Judith was on her way to Radcliffe finishing school. The money was obvious in the household. He remembers sitting to breakfast with the family and discussing the resignation of Richard Nixon who had been finally cornered after the testimony of Dean one of his special assistance in response to the Watergate Affair. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Another visit involved a stay in Atlanta, Georgia with the operating manager of an IBM selectric factory. That evening he asked him if he would like to take his car for a drive and simply tossed him the keys for his Lincoln Continental. Awesome considering he could barely pull the car keys out of his father’s hands back home. He was able to take a spin right through downtown Atlanta.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Some of the delegates where quite atheletic and very intelligent. He remembers his first successful attempt at waterskiing. He had tried before but the motors were usually insufficiently powered to pull his modest weight out of the water. But he was at a summer resort and the power boat using to pull the skiiers had two 60 horsepower motors and it was effortless to ski. Some of the boys could slalom but he was quite content to stay on two although he did try to drop one ski and had a mighty wipe out to mark the occassion.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They attended community pools and some of them were skilled divers committing to reverse layouts and one and a half sommer saults and gainers. They had superior physiques and were natural attractions to the women about the pool. Coupled with the fact that they came from rich families they were, some of them, planning to attend ivy league schools. One, from Birmingham had been accepted into Harvard and was planning on attend Prelaw. At that time it was estimated that his tuition would be $40,000 per year a phenomenal amount back then as it is today. Whenever he mentioned this to others, the reaction was a predictable succession of oohs and ahhs.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Some of the most memorable bus rides took place when Antonio started playing the guitar. He could play any chord for any song and this coupled with others who knew the lyrics to many others made for hours for singing and generally enjoyment and it seemed that everyone on that bus loved to sing. It was a common denominator, even of Soshi, from Japan whose english wasn’t that great but still managed to belt out the tunes phonetically, mixing his R’s with his L;s to the delight of everyone.</span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">kayaky</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 14"></a>Chapter Fourteen</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Superstition and Religion</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Superstition surrounded him in life and it occurred to him that one of his most important achievements was fighting against the natural human tendency towards superstition. He realized there were forms of superstition seated in real pragmatism. It made sense not to walk under a ladder, it made sense not to step on a crack, it was easy to see how those superstitions got started and propagated. But it was equally senseless to continue on with superstitions no matter how long held they were since one paying tribute to superstition in the face of common sense is bound for extinction.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He studied his actions looking for superstitious behaviour and he found it despite his desire to purge himself of it. He watched the horoscope columns, he studied palms, he looked at the stars, and most of all he was guarded about the number 13. What was it about 13. In China, 13 the exploded letter “B” was considered to be good luck. They feld that the number 4 was bad luck. But 13 was getting out of hand. Buildings were never given a thirteenth floor, in fact 13 was to be avoided, even though, that was an impossibility.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But he had also studied the occurrence of the number thirteen in his life. When ever a sequence of events was undertaken, the 13th always posed a problem, it was juggled, bobbled, and jiggled and the odd page out, the odd item out of series, the number that came up, more than 50% of the time was 13. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It was understood by telephone companies that phone numbers for local calls should be laid out in seven digits because the human mind seems to be comfortable handling seven unrelated figures. Things become related when a person sees a pattern in the numbers, like the name of a place buried inthe digits, or the words to a song, but unrelated any mind is hobbled by more than seven. Put two groups of known numbers together an problems start, usually occuring on the thirteenth digit.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Why should Friday 13th be considered an unlucky day? Why should the number 13 cause such trepidation. Hadn’t the twin towers been attached on September 11, 2001 - no 13 there. Wasn’t Pearl Harbour attached on December 7, 1942, no 13 there. The number 13 is an enigma because supertitions held over it don’t seem to be related to anything in particular and yet, somewhere at the back of his mind, that pesky number kept coming up whenever something was fucked, or screwed up, dropped, mixed up , found in error, whatever.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Superstition does not become the modern man. He belittles him to the savagery of the ages and places no further that the illiterate peasants of days gone by. The wizards and wise men of old knew this about people, they knew that under the best of circumstances people would let their superstitions get the better of them.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But what is to be done? Is it wise to stare the effect of pure chance in the face and ignore its potential. Sure there are probabilities but one cannot overlook the sheer bald faced aspect of chance, the one in a million. The guy who studies one chapter before the final exam and finds the test asks a question only on the material he studied. The person that exchanges his seat with another passenger on a doomed flight. It goes on and on. What are we to make of these events. They incite reverence and adherance to the precepts of chance.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The reality might be that given the many of thousands of personal decisions, millions perhaps, it it likely that one of those decisions will be favoured by chance.. The question is, do you want to live your life like that, laden with four leaf clovers, rabbits feet, sponge dice with box cars, dream catchers and all manner of paraphernalia that the superstitious often rely upon.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He thought you shouldn’t be stupid about superstition. People don’t like to have their noses rubbed in it. Chance was one thing but who was to say what the impact of psychokinetic energy was. He felt that electricity once by chance. He was hiking in the park with three friends and they came upon an overlook on a clear spring day and gazed out over the Ottawa River Valley. They lay down on a large rock heated by the sun heads together, with the sky a deep blue and covered with wisps of clouds and stared up for minutes until finally without a frame reference it was no longer possible to be sure if they were still on the ground looking up, or by some chance were then in space and looking down. More than that there was a strang electricity that they had felt passing between their heads, and images were being transferred from one brain to the next by the shear proximity of them to each other. The response of one was, Whoa, did you give me that and just as that was exclaimed, another said “I felt that too”. It was astounding.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">No superstition and luck was separate from the impact of a combined mind over matter, as yet an unproven aspect of science. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The danger of thoughts crossing between heads is that sometimes those thoughts are best left unspoken and unshared, turing perfected sound friendships into unbearable webs of intrigue and deceit, intermeshed with lust and langor. There is convenience in our world that we don’t know what each is exactly thinking, even though it is often said that 80% of all communication is non verbal. What a mess this world could be if every human emotion was revealed, all jealousy, greed and lust. He say that wouldn’t be workable.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In fact there was little room in this world for total honesty. People’s tolerance for honesty is limited at best. Every child learns at an early age that they kiss their Aunt even if she does smell like moth balls, or whatever. “Nice to see you Aunty” is the stock reply.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Or “Mildred, how nice to see you again [you bitch] or “How are you Mr. Phelps” [ I hope that cardiac is starting to kick in]. “Nice to see you Marilyn” [but it would be nice to see you with your cloths off too] No, there was little room for total honesty in this world and one could not entirely control the way the mind worked and those thoughts could pop up when he least expected them, causing grief and heart ache if expressed.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Combine superstition with a lack of total honesty and you have a recipe for disaster in the human condition. People infer things from peoples behaviour, are afraid of total honesty because intuitively they know that its a mistake. The problem being that they’re never too sure what they should be totally honest about leaving them hopelessly vulnerable - not about the little things - the time of day - but the complex issues, she he ask her out, will he ask her to dance, will she admit her attraction, or her secret desires. All barred by intuitive distast for total honest. Feelings could get hurt, relationships are shaken.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But what could haven when those barriers are brought down, when walls disappear and all that remains is the naked truth, warts and all?</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That is precisely why over the course of time and shared activity we learn about the people around us and they learn about us. They form opinions beyond first impressions, they get to know us and we get to know them. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">There is a superstition in marriages. The thinking is that there is an inch that develops in the marriage, called the seven year itch were each looks at the other and sees them warts and all, beyond the original attraction which may still be there, is mitigated by the newly acquired knowledge of the past years. They question if they made the right choice, and very often they see that the “love capital” that had been so essential in the early years was being offset by the annoying little things that were cute back when the sap was running high along with the lust. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Later in life the mind, heavily burdened with guilt, the unspoken truths heaped upon each other to stifle spontanaiity if it ever existed but the end result is and adult willing to try any thing and do anything if only an activation energy is reached. No longer content to stifle or to shut up they become emboldened at the possibilities. And seeing their life as a balance with the bulk of years or even half of them for that matter past behind, there was nothing to waste for the years to come. Simply, put they would curry no bull shit at that stage. </span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">kayaky</span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: silver;">
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 15"></a>Chapter Fifteen</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Know thine Enemy -for he is thy friend</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">When he thought back over a lifetime of the people he’d known, people he’d met he realized he’d been fortunate to have been acquainted with so many of them, and he’d worked hard to keep in touch even if many years had past between letters, email and personal meetings. It was true that some of those he would rather never see again but in hind sight he realized that even those whom he considered most reprehensible had their redeeming value because he’d had learned of their character types and their mannerisms. He knew what to expect from certain people through experience.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">There is in our society a group of individuals who are held in very hight esteem by the public. They are our doctors, physicians and specialists. They are very well educated as a rule and by the nature of their profession but their personalities and temperments run the gamut. He had met a particular group while working in Wawa, Ontario that were at once the best of friends and in the end at best indifferent and at worst the most self serving bunch of assholes he had ever met.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">To the man, if asked what drew them to the profession of medicine you’d find that altruism and the desire to help their fellow man was not a factor. They needed intellectual stimulation, self reliance, and liked the remuneration. That they worked with people and helped them more often or not was because they were interesting cases meriting their focus and interest. Professional responsibility and personal pride fall into those motivations as well.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Many things took place which affected his relationship with them which will not be sounded here but an interesting case in point concerned a canoe and kayak trip they took as a group of four on the University River, also known as the Dog, north and flowing into Lake Superior. He and another were to paddle kayaks, carrying their sleeping gear and dry cloths in their boats. The other two would paddle a 14’ royalex canoe which also carried their food. The trip was projected to take five days and they began their trip arriving at the put in on Old Paint Lake Road leading south from Highway 17. The put in was at the site of a logging bridge that had long ago been washed out likely as the results of a burst beaver dam from up stream. They arrived on the 25th of May during spring run off and the water was cold and high so they had to paddle in bulky cold water gear and they had to carry warm dry clothes as a precaution. But that day the weather was fine and warm and sunny, as nice a spring day as one would get north of superior.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The first day was uneventful, with a longer flat water paddle and some minor rapids which were easily negotiated. As the day wore on it was necessary to stop finally at a 25 foot waterfall and portage. They made camp there and confronted the spring’s black fly crop which had gathered their for their first good meal. The flies were so thick that they had to leaf their paddling gear on to protect themselves. Exposed hands and faces were covered with a moving mass of insects so that no bare skin could be seen beneath them. That was the main reason why they got into their tents early that evening and stayed in them. The thing about a black fly is that once inside a tent they proceed to spend all their time trying to get out of the tent, walking around on the nylon fly rather than focusing on their human prey. It was a odd but particularly endearing trait of the black fly.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They started out early the next morning, and as they began to encounter more and more challenging rapids it became clear that the canoe was having a good deal of trouble keeping up with the kayaks. He would probe the rapids and once completing them, without the confidence of backup and support would walk back up stream and help the canoist carry their canoe and the packs but it was slow going. Many rapids would slow them down with the endless portages, rapids which normally would simply be run by the kayaks. At the end of the second day they were totally exhausted from the effort.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Some of the rapids on the University are pool drop but most consist of treacherous waterfalls in succession that should not be navigated without adequate support. On this trip all those waterfalls and ledges had to be portaged. At the end of the second day the weather had turned and grew very cold approaching freezing. The other kayakist had at one point become pinned between two rocks in the middle of the current. He had been able to extract himself from his kayak as soon as he realized what had happened but was left standing on a rock in mid stream with class two rapids around him and his boat now submerged by the current, the cockpit filled withwater. Our hero was able to paddle into eddies behind the rock and extract his throw bag. The throw bag was used to “log roll” the boat onto its side and slip from the grasp of the two rocks. No gear was lost but the shear volume of water in the boat had the predicatable effect, his sleeping bag, down, no less, had become partially soaked as was some of his clothing.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">With the weather turning bad and with drizzle starting they made camp and started a fire with difficulty. That evening was to be a very cold one but at least he was alive and unharmed from the incident. It did prove the inherent danger of paddling in the spring in wilderness country.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The next day it had actually snowed and by the time they stopped for lunch they were all very cold standing on show beside a pathetically powered coleman stove trying to make some hot tea. Fortuneately the weather started to clear and by the time they reached Denison Falls it had turned pleasant if not warm again. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Dennison falls is a series of cascading waterfalls over 200 feet in height. The approach to the falls is through a straight cut in the rock above it in a rather innocuous channel. It proceeds to make a screaming left hand turn before making its spectacular descent. At the take out to river left are some of the largest yellow birches one would find any where with trunk diameters exceeding four feet. They had thus survived the woodsmans axe and chainsaw.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The trek around the falls is work enough requiring about three hours of effort to made the trip.<br /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm">kayaky</a></span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 16"></a>Chapter Sixteen</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Home to Roost</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The trek around Dennison Falls is a dangerous and arduous task. The boaters must carry their kayaks and gear over rough terrain, decending down to the level of the base of the first drop then back up along a slippery rock cliff which hangs over the water on river left. Continuing on around the bend in the river is another series of river wide ledges that crash further down. This cannot be accessed directly but must be approached by lowering ones self down an extremely steep slope. Someone had attached a climbing rope, very old by thick and strong nonetheless. It has been there fore years and offers the only safe method accessing the river from up above.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Once back at the waters edge the paddlers enter a class three rapid at the base of the falls with a strong recirculation into the maw of the bottom river wide ledge. Fighting current and keeping to the left they proceed through a series of large standing waves and easy lines between smaller ledges until the river flats and gives up its energy to the river bed and smaller waves. There is a noticeable drop in temperature here because Lake Superior looms just a few kilometers away.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Superior is North America’s largest and deepest fresh water lake and reaches depths in excess of 900 feet. Huge freighter ships have foundered in its depths. For example the pride of the American Steamship line, the Edmund FitzGerald sunk during a great November storm. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">By the time they reached the Lake it was noticeably colder. The water was barely above freezing and the insides of their kayaks was cold, there being only the thin plastic serving as insulation from those frigid waters. Another more troublesome aspect reared itself as the effect of the northeasterly began to take effect, waves persistent head winds had raised swells of four to five feet. There was to be eighteen kilometers of these conditions until Michipicoten Harbour would be reached. Kilometer after kilometer in cold and difficult conditions. It was at this point that the canoe, with its long hull and keel showed its value, with two padders, not one it was much faster in the waves, while often the rounded bottom kayak hulls would spin on the crests of the waves so the paddler would have to correct direction as well as paddling to make forward progress.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Worse that that, he began to feel motion sickness from the unsteady seas. So he began to be left behind. Those he had worked with on the trip, help pack their loads, and helped free their boats were leaving him behind to find his own way in unsafe conditions. It was a defining moment for him for they have proved to be unworthy friends. As the sickness overcame his, the urge to vomit was irrepressible and he was about four kilometers from shore. If he was sick at this point he could upset and fail to roll up. In those frigid waters, separated from the others he would not survive long. They had separated from him in a supreme act of selfishness. As doctors oblivious to the danger to their supposed comrade. It was a pathetic play that took its course.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Finally he did vomit about one kilometer from shore. It spewed onto his life vest as there was not adequate way to prevent that by body position. He immediately felt some relief and attempted to splash the emitus away. Renewed he was able to make it to shore. It was not mMichipictoen Harbour by further up lake at the Michipictoen Indian reserve. He dragged his boat ashore and collapsed on the beach. He lay there for way seemed to be a half an hour while the sun and warmth of the beach sand provided welcome relief from the cold lake water. He was about a kilometer from the nearest building and he removed his spray skirt and equipment and changed into his dry clothes. He would not be paddling any further that day. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Reaching the that house he was able to arrange a ride into town. He left his boat and make arrangements to pick it up on his return. It had been a point of enlightenment. He would not make himself vulnerable in a situation like that again. He had also found deeper personal strength than he had known, managed to save himself in most difficult circumstances.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">As for the others, they would be oblivious, of the situation they themselves and he would not bring it to their attention but rather would remember it in all his dealings with them on a professional level.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">A couple of years later he welcomed a couple southern paddlers, Charlie and John who planned a weekend of paddling on the University. He set them off on the river on a warm and sunny Saturday Afternoon much as he had encountered and by Sunday night he too was called from the very Indian Reserve. That day and most of Saturday night the weather had changed from warm to freezing cold. John had become hypothermic, shivering furiously. By the time he got in the car to change his hands were to cold to remove his paddling gear and he had to be helped by he and Charlie. It was one more example of how good friends could help each other and stood as a stark comparison to his own experience with his learned, professional acquaintances.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In the course of paddling, many rivers he had encountered many brothers of the river. Those that had shared similar experiences. They traveled so many different highways, stopped at the same bars, and paddled the same rivers. The problem with paddlers is that they are not all at the same skill levels. Many are beginning, aspiring but inexperienced and a few others have strong skills creating pockets of paddling excellents, the better paddlers stay together in groups and the others are left to fend for themselves or pay for their services to improve. It gets more complicated by the friendships that form.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">One friendship failed under these conditions. Donny started learning his kayaking skills at the same time as our hero. He had some early success learning self rescue and advanced more quickly. There was a subtle and constant improvement in his skills as the two progressed. Because they lived in a small northern town paddling buddies were few and far between and they were drawn together because of their common interest which later became more of an arrangement of convenience. The problem was that only one of them was aware of this evolution.</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;">kayaky</a></b></span></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 17"></a>Chapter Seventeen</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Warm , Wet and Wild</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The problem with stories that involve whitewater paddling is that they can be unidimentional and uninteresting to those that do not follow that sport. Its easy to see how some would regard it as quite a bit less than sport in the first place - more of a risk takers game of little interest to normal people.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">But over the years he saw the interest in his pastime increase. Initially he found it raw to see vehicles with kayaks on their car roof racks. When he started boating it was by chance. He meet an old friend, Grant, who was at the beach near Kirkland Lake. Crystal was the perfect sandy get away from the barren site that was the town of Kirkland Lake. He encountered this loud, rotund and many say, obnoxious fellow paddling a fibre glass kayak. Grant invited him to try the boat out and while it was not very interesting, a month or two later he was invited to the pool to try a couple kayak rolls. The first few attempts were pretty futile. The rock it self is a dynamic move requiring a coordination of a paddle sweep which maitains the power surface of the blade at a climbling angle to prevent the blade from diving, the hips much twist or flick in a rapid single motion causing the boat to roll about its horizontal axis and finally the head must be maintained at a low attitude against the hull until the boat is fully upright so that the weight of the head does not disperse the center of gravity too far from the horizontal axis, which would simple lead to another upset if not failure to properly right the boat in the first case.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The beginner often fails to roll the kayak, not for lack of muscle power but truly through a lack of coordination which is also cause by a complete lack of coordination through disorientation. Hanging upside down while tightly fitted into the cockpit of a kayak can be extremely disconcerting. Some because quite irrational, comletely forgetting that they are able to hold their breath for over a minute in some cases.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The pool session was attended by five or six and a couple were successful. They had somehow managed to progress from simple hip flicks at the side ofthe pool to inwater eskimo rescues where the nose of another’s kayak is used in much the same way the side of the pool is used to right the boat, to finally, using the paddle successfully to execute an eskimo roll.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He saw that those who were able to complete the move, who understood the mechanics of it and were able to muster the coordination to complete it on their own exhibited what appears to be a form of natural elation, pure joy at having been successful at it. In any case, at the conclusion of the hour or two that had been set aside for the purpose of using the community pool there was an invitation to go over to a friends home and watch some video footage of kayakers. That is where he met Joan, and her friend Sally. They were bouncing about in sweat pants that looked much like pyjamas, all the world like a couple tenth graders on a sleep over.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The film was called “Dudh Kosi” relentless river of Everest concerning the first kayak expedition down that glacier fed river cascading through mountainous terrain in the himalayas. It was a juxtaposition of the sometimes pathetic exhibition at the pool to a group of highly skilled paddlers executing eskimo rolls and braces in the most difficult conditions, in remote country. In one scene a paddler had his boat pinned vertically in a short drop. The pressure of the water literally ripped the craft to pieces and sent the man swimming but who was fortunately saved by a throw bag. He could hardly walk following this even as a result of the boat imploding on his ankles and feet.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">It may have been an odd juxtaposition but in his mind the link between high adventure and those pool shenanigans was made. One could feel the excitement in the room. Those that were there started thinking about how they could afford their own kayaks. Within weeks many had bought one, some of the earlier fibreglass and kevlar models that were being laid up by MidCanada Fibreglass which was operating in New Liskeard, Ontario.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The initial trip was planned for the July 1st long weekend in 1985. Among those who had planned to make the trip, Joan Schuppli,22 , who was a botanical technician for the Ministry of Natural Resources, Doug Skeggs, a technical support person from the Ministry , Ray Hong and his brother Harry, both sons of the local Chinese Restaurant proprietor. Ray also worked at the Ministry of “Cranial Neurosis” while Harry was an automechanic. Grant Smith was like the earth, no visible means of support, Doug Bruce was the son of the Mikasa Gold Mine’s manager. Finally, our hero, who was working at the local hospital as the financial director.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They gathered together at about 8:00 on the morning, some less stoned than others and started assembling a make shift roof rack for one vechile while tying boats down on a rather pathetic excuse for a rack that was attached to Doug’s Mustang II , two door coupe. This was back when boats were at least twelve feet long. To stabilize the load which was hanging precarioulsy to the front and back of the rack which served more as a pivot point than an actual point of attachment, the boat was ineffectively secured to the front and back of the car. Grant tied an old bicycle inner tube to the boats and then to the bumper of the car. They didn’t know anybetter and went along with it. It would come back to haunt them..</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Leaving Kirkland, in a cloud of hen shit, the plan was to pick up paddling equipment on route, in New Liskeard and then in north Bay. While on route to the Tritown, about three kilometeres outside of Earlton they found themselves in a convoy, one after the other. Doug had already fallen asleep from the preceeding nights festivities and our hero was driving. The trip was going swimmingly well when in the horizon one could see the glint of sunlight reflecting off the magnificent tandem tanks of two trimark tanker trucks speeding north along highway 11 in the oncoming direction. The Mustang II met the first truck’s backwash which immediately lifed the entire boat assembly up in a powerful rush. The other truck, following closely, bumper to bumper style, and moving equally fast, created a vortex so powerful that it proceeded to rip the entire assembly right of the car and sailing now, aerodynamically, it moved like a kite up and over, fortunately to the right and into the grass ditch along the highway. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Reducing his speed at this point our hero turned to his sleeping comrade and said, “Wake up Doug, we have a slight problem”</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">In those days they were’nt prepared, nobody was really, and in the care there wasn’t a tool to be found. The boats had not been damaged, neither was the car. Actually a bit of damage was incurred to Grant’s kayak, somewhat in ironic justice. It was a simple matter of retrieving the load and reattaching the assembly, this time with rope running around the boats and through the interior of the car several times, A wrench was borrowed from a farmer who had lived closed enough to the road to have witness the entire procession of events which some mild amusement no doubt.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The were able to pick up the spray deck and paddles needed at Mid Canada, as well as boats, and in Northback some fibreglass and resin enough to fix grant’s boat. Also required were milk bags for floatation and the all important Duct Tape, not the mealy Canadian Tire Brand mind you, but the authentic 3m variety.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">After a brief lunch stop they proceeded to the put in located on Waverly Bay, on the French river, located between North bay and Sudbury. The weather was magnificently hot and the rapids along the way were easy enough that the first set was paddled cleaning it being nothing more than a series of standing waves. Further on down were the first set of rapids called Little Parisien where most of them walked around. Harry decided to run to the far left, his boat overturned and he received the first injury, that being a scrapped fore arem. It was here that Ray take a picture of the group that stands today aas the Classic photo of that intrepid paddle club which today is known as NOLAC.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They made their way to the Blue Chute which is a well known rapid on the river, and made camp. The water was high. It was the highest in 25 years on the account of the Waverly Lodge, located on the river. They accepted his word, given they he rightly should have known.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The waves and current were strong, perhaps a bit too strong for a bunch of beginners, most of whom did not know how to roll their boats or self rescue, nor did they have adequate floation, most using air mattresses or milk bags, most had no technique whatsoever and could not read the currents, and finally, equipment like keyhold bouy or boy life jackets. Despite this and their alarming lack of preparation, they had fun, fun like they had never had it before, each egging the other on to some new feat. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Ray took another photo of them body surfing a side current, feet of one linked under arms as they passed in a human chain. He took pickers of them trying to surf in the hydraulic just to the river left of the glassy wave that was the blue chute. Doug got stuck in there, and in his bulky R5 he simply could not extricate himself and had a long and protracted side surf, in fact when he did upset, he simply window shaded and rolled back up,to find himself still in the “hole” and still side surfing it. This was how he acquired the nick name “Gumby” as in sticky.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Our hero spent quite a bit of time swimming, due to a lack of self rescue skills. Doug Skeggs could roll and he advanced more quickly. It was only later that evening with Grants assistance did he actually succeed in rolling his boat, and then coming up, letting go a great whoop from the thrill of it, hardly noticing that in the failing light of day, his glasses and he had become separated, they heading to the fathomless bottom and he stayin g put upside down in his boat. Never mind, he had done his first roll and felt great.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Later still that eveing, around a substantial campfire, pestered by mosquitos, they stay up quite late, got high, go drunk , soothed their sunburns which were significant and prepared for the paddle back upstream the next day. However, the trip was a complete success, and given that nothing forges friendships quit like the sharing of a common experience and nothing forges great friendships like the sharing of uncommon and intense experience, the early beginnings of NOLAC were on truly solid ground. It was, in the views of all, one of the most memorable experiences of their lives.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">This is a story of two people who came together as a couple, a man and woman who were very different from one another and yet maintained a lifelong commitment and bond. She from a foreign culture and living in a foreign country found her adventure within the confines of their marriage and his adventures. He found his adventure through the opportunities that were created and facilitated by her.</span></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">kayaky </span></a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky" style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">back to the top</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Chapter 18"></a>Chapter 18</b></span></div>
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<b><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Salty Dogs</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Surfing on waves is one of life’s more simple pleasures but it comes at a cost. The idea of surfing originated in Hawaii, and it involved a very primitive plank and a very imaginative Hawaiian. In modern times the whole thing has gone postale. The trend has been to move to shorter boards, sometimes with sails and most often with fins and refinements such as epoxy infused foam for extreme light weight.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The same trend had happened with kayaks. His first kayak was a second hand fibre glass lay up made by Mid Canada Fibreglass out of New Liskeard, Ontario. It had a kevlar bottom instead of the usual glass fibres which added strength without compromising the weight. He remembers learning to roll in that boat but infortunately the seat was poorly anchored and did not provide adequate support. It was perpetually in need of repair, and almost every Wednesday he was in his basement putting yet another layer of fibre and resin down and there was never enough. Finally the thing was just too beat up to repair in his view.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Arrangements were made to buy in bulk and to do so a scheme was hatched to purchased six kayaks from a trailer dealership in Earlton, Ontario. The catch was they had to set the dealership up in cooperation with the owner. One of the biggest expenses was the shipping. The new, state of the art plastic kayaks, and they were ordering six of them, were to come from Knoxville Tennesee from Tufflight Corporation. The Hydra Matadors were a foot shorter, dramatically rockered, with foam pillars and adjustable foot pegs. It was 1985 and they were a dream come true, no more fibreglass repairs! To sweeten the deal, new comers to NOLAC were able to buy the thirdhand kayaks from their owners and expand the club. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">That old boat had seen some heavy duty paddling. He took his first trip down the Cheat, Gaully, Ottawa and Rouge rivers in that Hydra. He had blow out the nose on the left Horseshoe rapid on the Ottawa and finished the job on the Kipawa. The Kipawa was another story, the portage around the Grand Chute was normally passable but that fall it was so cold he lost his grip and the boat shot down the path to the river, hitting hard on the rocks below. It caused a spiral fracture and appeared to be un repairable. They had brought duct tape, a rare occurrence in this day and age of plastic and that was enough to plug the leaks until the take out but when he got the boat home the situation looked bleak. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The repair was akin to open heart surgery. He decided to staple the plastic together using a standard construction stapler. Over the staples was lathered “Plastidip” plastic compound wrapped in fibretape. Finally a plastic nose cone protector was acquired on a side trip to West Virginia , a perfect fit and held in place using silicone caulking. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The result was a watertight seal that held for years until the Prijon T-Slalom caught his eye on a paddling trip down the University with some American Friends. He was able to get a new T-Slalom from Gerry Brindel. It was a beautifully sleak boat with a novel key hole cockpit. This allowed the paddler to raise their knees without getting out of the boat unlike the Hydra which had a smaller cockpit and coaming which did required the boater to raise themselves from the seat and out first before removing knees from the boat.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The added feature of the Prijon was the stiffer plastic which was more resistance to scratches and abrasion. It also had a marvelous feature, a drain plug! No more rockering a swamped boat over rocks to empty it. There were no foam pillars in the Prijon, unlike the Hydra which meant that there was more room for gear on paddling trips. It was perfect for unsupported trips into the wild.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The Hydra sat in the back yard for years. He had hoped his sons would take an interest but they did not. It might be part of the natural order of things, between fathers and sons, but they wanted nothing to do with kayaks just as he wanted nothing to do with video games. The boat had been moved with them from Kirkland Lake, to Wawa, to Barry’s Bay, to Kenora and finally to Ottawa. It was finally sold to a young newlywed who bought it as a gift to her husband. It was to be used primarily at a cottage. Somehow, that image of it spending its last days in the pursuit of the happiness of their young children was satisfying. While the T- Slalom was kept carefully under a tarpaulin for its next trip out with a student or other aspiring paddler, the Hydra was showing signs of neglect. He was happy to see it go and it would come in handy.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He had been given a chance to buy a much new boat, a Wavesport “Z” which was to be a total departure from his other ventures. He had first experimented with it in Costa Rica. He had traveled down there with his family, finally, on April with the kayaking included as part of the activities. Traveling with Gerry and a new friend Brian Johnston the plan was to go ocean wave surfing in kayaks. They were to bring these boats with them on the aircraft as luggage. For two weeks they surfed and paddled on the Pacific Ocean near the Guanacaste Pennisula of Costa Rica very close to Tamarindo Beach and Playa Grande , the home of a unique leatherback sea turtle breeding ground.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">He rememers the first time he paddled out to meet the incoming breakers. The effect was not unlike paddling over waves on a river, except for the fact that these were moving, the water was warm and salty and the ocean was wide and untamed. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They had traveled to Toronto to take a Royal airlines flight into Liberia Airport. The boats were bundled up and taped into one big package and the cost to ship them as baggage was about $50 each. Not bad really. The flight, about six hours, seemed very short indeed. Landing and moving the boats through the airport was a cinch as the Liberian Airport was quite small and unencumbered by excessive security. Big Wave Dave was there at the airport to receive them. He was originally from Texas, but as a retired probation officer was able to live on the beach in Costa Rica pulling in a few extra dollars driving tourists to and from the hotels and and airport. The gear was piled onto the top of the van and they all piled in, there were seven of them, including the two boys.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Arriving at Los Tortugas Inn was uninspiring, it was a humble facility with an open air dining area. But the pool was designed to look like a turtle, and there was a hot tub and quaint shaded cabana fitted with hammocks. The rooms were modest but aircondtioned. He and his wife were not staying directly at the hotel but rather a lighthouse shaped apartment about a kilometer away, the perfect distance for a morning and evening stroll.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Los Tortugas was partially obscured fromt the beach by trees, so that the white and artifical light did not affect the egg laying patterns of the turtles. When the big turtles came in to lay their eggs they would head to the beach and dig an immense pit, in some cases twelve feet across. They would head up the sand until they were high and dry so there was no danger to the eggs. In the warm beach sand the eggs would incubate until finally, and usually at the light of a full moon, they wouldhatch, with the tiny turtles heading out in the directino of the white surf. That was why artifical white light was prevented on Playa Grande. The tiny turtles would struggle with their awkward little flippers on their way to the sea, leaving tracks behind that looked very much like those a mountain bike tire would leave and in a bee line for the water.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">While paddling out to the water in his kayak he could appreciate the beauty and grace of the big leatherbacks. They struggled on land but once they head the water, their weight because irrelevant, with the powerful flippers making them effective swimmers. When he finally got off shore it occurred to him that from beneath his kayak with its dipping double bladed paddled might look a big like a turtle, perhaps a little too appetizing to a killer whale or shark. It was unnerving being out in the ocean, in some cases up to two kilometers from shore. For one thing, there wre the waves, some of them over twenty feet high, for another, the ocean had no boundaries, it was impossible to get what was swimming beneath him. Finally, there was the concern about currents and wind. Much like his paddling trip on Lake Superior, if he didn’t paddle effectively he might end up in Japan or fish bait.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">At the same time it was exhilharating paddling on the ocean, surfing the waves in that little boat, barely eight feet long. He did get completely trashed the first few times before he got the hang of ocean surfing. The technique was to wait for the wave to come up from behind. Sensing the wave, the paddler makes rapid headway until on the rising slope of the wave. He has to be moving forward otherwise the wave will either move past them or they will be lifted up and either pitoned end over end or swamped by the crashing surf. If everything works the way it should, the boat is caught by two complementary forces. The force of gravity pulls the kayak down in front of the wave. The horizontal energy of the wave pushes the boats forward along with it.The result is a massive ride, with the paddler leaning way back to prevent he bow from catching and causing an end over end cartwheels and perhaps a mouth full of sand, very disconcerting.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">They went out to surf twice a day, two hours in the morning, two hours at sunset, every day for two weeks. Sun, fresh air, exercise and surf. It was heaven. To complete the picture, a magnificent beach, unpolluted or despoiled by trash, covered with marvelous cone shaped shells. Just up from the ten kilometer long beach were sparsely spaced tourist inns like the Los Tortugas, serving up pina con leches and pina colades, cervasa and all the chicken and rice one could eat. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Every evening presented a marvelous sunset and the full moon was in cycle creating magnificent vistas on the ocean, with sweeping views of the beach and southern skies.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The trip to Costa Rica was his introduction to the short boats. In his much longer Hydra and T-Slalom that type of surfing was not as enjoyable. The usual move was for the nose to immediately bury itself resulting in a hyper, ultra dynamic ender either fore or aft. He did finally acquire a Wave Sport Z using the vacation pay he had gotten by changing jobs. The Z was a bad match however. It was one thing to paddle it in swim trunks without feet of entrapment and no need for saftey gear but back home it proved to be much too small and too difficult to get in and out. On his first trip down the Kipawa, he feared for not being able to get out of the boat above Hollywood Rapid. It was enough reason to dislike it but it had been all he could afford. </span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">The last straw occured while on the Rouge River. He had just finished the otter slide entry above the last of the seven sisters waterfalls. It was a fifteen feet plunge into class two moving water. On that trip a guest from North Carolina had joined them in a rental boat, one which was poorly fitted to him and which did not contain any floatation. That fellow did the entry but then upset and missed his roll and bailed. The boat was on the opposite side of the river. He had moved over to help his friend bull doze that boat to shore but without proper saftey gear such as a jam cleat it was not possible to do that efficiently. Unaware, the last of the seven sisters water falls was coming up too fast, in fact, they were both caught. Derek, the other paddler, went first, boofing off the left of the fall and he was left in mid stream about fifteen feet from shore in a small eddy just above the falls. There was no way to make it to shore, it was obvious, he too would have to run the falls. In an instant he was in the maw of the waterfall. It was ferocious and unkind, causing multiple dynamic cartwheels and enders, his skirt was ripped off the boat and then he too was ripped from the kayak but he somehow managed to hang on to it, despite being worked by the force of thousands of gallons of water pouring ontop of him every second. Then he was swimming below the falls, hanging onto his boat. somehow he made it to shore, and of course, the empty hull of that rental boat was in fine shape, the swimmer also came out without a scratch. they were very lucky that day.</span></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;">Later, once they had made the takeout without incident he looked at that rental. It was a Dagger Honcho and it really did seem enormous. Casually he decided to try to sit down in it. It was as if that boat was the glass slipper and he was Cinderella’s foot. It wa a perfect fit. About a week later he put his Z for sale or trade in the Smooth rock internet bulletin board and made a deal with a C-1 boater to trade his boat for boat. The C-1 would trade his honcho for the Z plus three hundred in cash. Part of the money was to come from the sale of the Hydra. An so it was that he came to own a red Dagger Honcho. It was to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship. He loved that boat.<br /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/peter.htm">kayaky</a></span></b></div>
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #444444;"><b><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: silver;"><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/zen.html#kayaky">Back to the top</a></span>*********Have a Nice Day**********</b></span>Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-5986675830606926092018-08-11T11:15:00.002-04:002019-01-21T16:58:18.308-05:00The Susanator - poetry about susan<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">First Steps</span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">The curtain's closed on our first act</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">the page has turned,the score has changed</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and on our route the benchmarks point</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">away from things that caused us pain</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Awake each day to new beginnings</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">turn away from used to be's</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Focus on the time that's left us</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Happier now with what we see</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Together for the time remaining</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">sharing life as day by day</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">our love filled hearts are more sustaining</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">with lives now lived no other way</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Lifetimes spent to find the other</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">And mountains climbed to reach their side</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">with vistas reaching there before us</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">We always knew that we'd arrive</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">New journies will be done together</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">miles to go, we'll walk in grace</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">that holds us safe from troubled waters</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">our meaning found in our embrace</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">kayaky</a><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;" /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="The_Susanator" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">The Susanator</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Where in the world </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">did she come from?</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">sheltered from the world</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">kept in recluse</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">suddenly she was among us</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">The Susanator, lean and graceful</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">extra extra small with big while teeth</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and the smile to match</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">The Susanator is nimble</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">front flipping on her trampoline</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">with so much ease</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">early to rise, and early to bed</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and much too good in your bed </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">when she's there</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">a whirlwind in the kitchen</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">like the Tasmanian devil</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">whipping up banana bread</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">so you can see how easy it is</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">The Susanator sweeps into a room</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and the eyeballs start to roll</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">or pop depending on the gender</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Shes too thin, too happy</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">too smart, too atheletic</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">too good a mother, too efficient</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">just too damned good to be true</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">The Susanator will affect </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">everything she sees with her</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">well presented heads up screen</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">she'll choose...</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">"have a great day" or </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">"hellooooooo" and smile</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">And in the drive through, </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">rolling her stops </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">to the beat of a differnt bongo</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">music pumping too loud and too hip</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">too much, too much, too much</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">SO Who will love the Susanator?</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">who can keep up with her?</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and her sweaty workout highs</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and her500 calorie runs</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">lessor mortals fear to tread</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">for perfection is never sweet</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">only bitter</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Since it can rarely be so well</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">attained</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">You can't beat the Susanator</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">at her own game</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">you can only play your own </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and hope she'll come along</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and if she does..</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">you'll be a happy man</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">kayaky</a><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Jealosy" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Jealousy</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">The wild heart cries out like a lone wolf</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">howling at the moon of an ancient sky</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">feelings rise from their shallow graves </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">haunting smug veneer and inner peace</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">disturbing now what was sheltered then</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">in empty caves - with groceries delivered</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">never safe from rivals or unfaithfulness</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">we're born vigilant and a stones throw away</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">The mind reels at what was old and is new again</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">an inexplicable flush of green envy</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">from deep hearts well - in an oasis from flatness</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">anxious concerns about losing something real</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">never happy alone - never free from need</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">bathed in fear and trepidation</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">it thinks, it ponders, it rationalizes until</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">there is relief in balance, if nothing else</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">as life goes on</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">If that shone like a beacon, clear to all</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">free from apprehensive darkness, </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">unencumbered by dangerous hidden meanings </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">warped thoughts would straighten in natural light</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and comfort us by the kind deeds it revealed</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">so modern animals - humans</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">soothed by the day's touch and warmth</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">would be left undistracted </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">by the possibilities or probabilities</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">or awareness of irresistable forces </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and immovable objects</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">found in deep memories of ancient skies</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and be left, once again happy, in love</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">kayaky</a><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Knots" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Knots</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Impure thoughts, may sweep in and take us</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Far far away, from our goals</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">And our dreams, take lessor status</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">letting passions grow more cold</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">But we're not living lives in endless little circles</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and we aren't going to be stopped by such bonds of little purpose</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Just take a deep breath and let go</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Its not the doubts that hold us but ourselves you know</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Gordian knots are how we make them</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">that tie us up and tie us down</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">And so it seems that we can't break them</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">giving up, too easily</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">But we're not going to live our lives in quiet desperation</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Weíll pick ourselves right up off the ground and look for inspiration</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Take first steps and then go</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Until we do, weíll never know</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Knots are tied but we can shake them</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Silver cords canít hold us down</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">And those doubts wonít overtake us</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Because our love has grown too strong</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">The future in store for us will be a thing of beauty</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Each morning that we wake up will remind us of our duty</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">To live life to its fullest, and give love to each other</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">And thatís what bonds us together, away from knots that bind</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Or Limits set by tethers</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">kayaky</a><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Time_Traveling" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Time Traveling</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">time travels back and forth</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">messing with our minds</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">but no one knows </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">the time or place</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">only remembered moments</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">powerful when recalled </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">cause us to wince</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and relive flashes of reality</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">what was seen</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">what was felt</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">existing now as we existed then</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">may die when we die</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">or like leather clad</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">books on a musty shelf</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">cling to the knowledge </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">without its power, </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">preserving a memory </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">without consequence</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">free from guilt</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">kayaky</a><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Between_Us_" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"></a><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Between Us </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Things between us cannot be seen, nor can they be heard </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">No dangerous words too hot in frigid lands </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">like gental touching - skin on skin by urgent longing hands </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Or voices that beseech us in a dimly lit recess </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">encouraging our lips and tongue to places never guessed </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Things between us cannot be seen or heard </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">unseen - the redness, unfelt the wetness </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">of swollen parts that ache and crave their desperate release </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">unheard gasping bodies lying blissful once they're spent </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Unread minds, not of this world - ecstatic, heaven sent </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">those things that come are between us, unknown </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and too powerful for mated souls </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">unknown musk beneath a moon soaked in sultry sounding jazz </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">unspeakable candlelit moments which dare to be cried out </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">As they are between us and no one else </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Stripped of daily burdens - painful memories are obscured </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">by love and lust imagined - then unknown, by us procured </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">kayaky </a><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="When_the_lights_go_down" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"></a><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">When the lights go down</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"> </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Close your eyes my love</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">when the lights go down</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">see only what you can remember</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Bright like the desert sand </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">see me 'cause I can see </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">only you</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"> </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Hold me tight my love</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">when the lights go down</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">feel your heart and you will remember</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">wonderful days</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Holding me, like I'm holding you</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">in love forever</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"> </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"> </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Kiss me my love</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">when the lights go down</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">with love like no other remembered</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">just wonderful ways</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">spent loving each day</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">of our lives in love together</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">kayaky</a><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;" /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Gatineau_Love" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">Gatineau Love</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"> </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">Between us the past - </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">warmed back to back in the fireside light</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">sharing a mat on our lac phillip night</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">We shivered and smiled with Coq au Vin wafting</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">while warming our souls with cool red wine</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">each crackle and cackle cemented the moment </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">to the icey crisps underfoot</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">with steady conspicuously knowing smiles </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">we watched the moonshadows stretch over eerie snow</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">'twas no better place nor time for yet one more story </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">which began in Gatineau's glory </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">with skiis, and snowshoe delights</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">just two friends finding friends </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">and a partner for life</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;"> </span></span><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; text-align: center;">kayaky</a>*********Have a Nice Day**********</span>Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-2412832987685036652018-08-10T21:15:00.002-04:002018-08-11T11:18:14.287-04:00The Wellspring of Love poetry<div>
The wellspring of Love</div>
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We reached for something</div>
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<br /></div>
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we couldn't see</div>
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<br /></div>
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and prayed without belief</div>
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for rescue from our desperation</div>
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for love and sweet relief</div>
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Our prayers tapped into something greater</div>
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<br /></div>
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The source of timeless love</div>
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<br /></div>
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Once share by precious others</div>
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Then passed on from up above</div>
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that wellspring flows between us</div>
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a fountain pure and true</div>
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with love, once loved, and faith restored</div>
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with feelings felt </div>
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and hope renewed</div>
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kayaky</div>
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The Desperate River</div>
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The Great Desperate river has regret at its source</div>
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and the souls there are always the same</div>
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their angry pasts and fearful futures rearranged</div>
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nothing for them, so for them nothing has changed</div>
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Their dreams are there, their wishes too</div>
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so too the knowledge of what to do</div>
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but their waters are frozen by indecision</div>
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like manicles of steel, comfortable in illiquidity</div>
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time flows never to return and time is so short</div>
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but time is the only thing that flows from quiet desperation</div>
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With regret at the source</div>
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Time flowing onward, nothing lies ahead</div>
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except an ocean of tears</div>
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upon which founder vessels </div>
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which waited too long to take them</div>
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to the promised land</div>
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the waves lap in chorus to the wind song</div>
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-all that, which I could have done</div>
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but did not do</div>
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<br /></div>
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between the pieces of hope</div>
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that still wash ashore</div>
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kayaky</div>
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Susan's life:</div>
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After all this time</div>
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<br /></div>
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will we have been together</div>
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We will be together</div>
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after denial and grieving</div>
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<br /></div>
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will we be</div>
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<br /></div>
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together as a couple</div>
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<br /></div>
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In our primary relationship</div>
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the neighbors will know and</div>
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Maybe the children will be ready</div>
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Once their adjustment is over</div>
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Once the periodic visits allow well adjustment</div>
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and the toothbrush never dries</div>
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After Susan has been on her own and </div>
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feels the freedom of single life</div>
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after Susan feels self reliant </div>
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after Susan feels the wind in her hair</div>
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after Susan knows she has made the right</div>
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decision about this perfect combination</div>
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after Bob and Ted, or Ken today there maybe Barbie,</div>
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after Susan's job is secure</div>
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after the finances are on track</div>
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after things seem to be on track</div>
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after the combinations seem perfect</div>
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and a home is just right</div>
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for children, for the garden, forever</div>
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after the household has been set up</div>
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after the house is purchased</div>
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after the car is purchased</div>
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after the money is in the bank account</div>
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after the budget is worked out</div>
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after the money is promised</div>
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from the sale of a house</div>
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or the passing of a parent</div>
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after the separation has been achieved</div>
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After the children know </div>
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there's trouble in paradise</div>
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will we be together</div>
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after its all over</div>
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<br /></div>
Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-24692433718320166642018-08-10T19:57:00.002-04:002018-08-10T19:57:54.812-04:00Poetry updateWhat have we learned<br />
<br />
Passing through, you might learn a thing or two -<br />
you might even love again if it don't kill you<br />
They loved you once - that much is true<br />
Now what do you know? its gone<br />
‘New ways of being’, the words -they used to say<br />
‘We’re through’<br />
<br />
But who’s unhappy now? there's these holes<br />
and they weigh pretty heavy sometimes<br />
‘cause we carry them everywhere we go<br />
we’ve all got watercolors flowing in and out<br />
soft and silent, safe and close<br />
Sure - they loved you, loved you with all they had<br />
You had them - and the matter to lose<br />
<br />
Man, if you knew then<br />
what you've come to know now would you just cut that bubble<br />
loose from its golden tether and free you from it all<br />
Would you still have all the multicolored pieces<br />
of that beautiful thing to hold and -<br />
now that its broken - remember<br />
was it all, just meant to be<br />
‘cause you were you<br />
and I was<br />
me?<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Silent Death<br />
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Silent death through indifference<br />
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abides in a lonely universe<br />
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without the comfort of a small world<br />
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It finds miles made of inches<br />
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As we are ignored<br />
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Then distance grows with self awareness<br />
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Then brotherly love, fallen out of fashion<br />
<br />
is also out of the question<br />
<br />
and healthy interest is out of season<br />
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We're left burdened by repetitious visitors<br />
<br />
who offer nothing but who hang on,<br />
<br />
refusing to leave and who bore us to tears<br />
<br />
then to our deaths<br />
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<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
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<br />
Trouble Ahead<br />
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As the world turns, there'll be a tomorrow<br />
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some things will change- some stay the same<br />
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But in our search for deeper meaning<br />
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we'll find ourselves - alone to blame<br />
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<br />
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A desert sun is no more evil<br />
<br />
that parches lips and leaves us dry<br />
<br />
The good and bad that's all around us<br />
<br />
depends on who beholds it<br />
<br />
The good and bad is in their eyes<br />
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<br />
<br />
Like unmatched shoes along the roadside<br />
<br />
though no one's seen and nothings heard<br />
<br />
its testament to streets and gutters<br />
<br />
telling tales without a word<br />
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<br />
<br />
Or was it wind or just the trees there?<br />
<br />
stirring shadows from behind<br />
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We sense there's movement all around us<br />
<br />
in the darkness we're walking blind<br />
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<br />
<br />
misplaced steps would lead us nowhere<br />
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then fail us when there are no signs<br />
<br />
and now we've seen the fallen buildings<br />
<br />
there is no way to purge our minds<br />
<br />
<br />
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Now fear lies in our darkened spaces<br />
<br />
lurking at the bottom of our hearts<br />
<br />
there's trouble's brewing on the horizon<br />
<br />
Long before the storm clouds rise<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But we are gentle, and we're giving<br />
<br />
and we can see the way ahead<br />
<br />
even though we have our children<br />
<br />
decide to wage a war instead<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The wellspring of Love<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
We reached for something<br />
<br />
we couldn't see<br />
<br />
and prayed without belief<br />
<br />
for rescue from our desperation<br />
<br />
for love and sweet relief<br />
<br />
Our prayers tapped into something greater<br />
<br />
The source of timeless love<br />
<br />
Once share by precious others<br />
<br />
*********Have a Nice Day**********Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-78252308828727764822018-08-10T19:54:00.001-04:002018-08-10T19:54:35.627-04:00Poetry continued<center>
<b>No,no,no</b></center>
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I wish that I could find the words so I could tell you what its like being downtown in the city watching all the people on the street</center>
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And she don't care - no she's not thinking of me She doesn't know that - I'm alive She don't care - 'sides maybe there's another that's she's in love with - What chance have I?</center>
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Well I head out on the street until I can get some sleep I know someday soon we'll meet Until that moment ...</center>
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So I head out on the street hoping somewhere soon we'll meet and until then - baby please Keep looking for me</center>
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I promise not to be annoying But can you try to understand? I can't keep on the way I'm going cause after all,I'm - just a man</center>
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No, no, no, don't freak out or say you hate me Just because I've lost my nerve Yes, Yes, Yes - For sure, I'll always love you And I will give you what you deserve</center>
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Well I head out on the street until I can get some sleep I know someday soon we'll meet Until that moment ...</center>
<center>
So I head out on the street hoping somewhere soon we'll meet and until then - baby please Keep looking for me</center>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Render unto Caesar"></a><b>Render unto Caesar</b></center>
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The price of love is paid these days in blood and sweat and tears<br />where nothing in this world is free and our pleasures cause us fear<br />No wishes made for peace and harmony within this universe or hope for true love is delivered<br />as love through us alone is cursed unless Caesar has approved it<br />A simple smile, or glance between us shall raise the wrath of God<br />and summer storms of sixth degree that all should fail their cause<br />and leave us shattered on the street and wounded by the laws<br />but kings and queens show deference to their subject's supplication<br />and pass their judgement more cautiously to the weak's humiliation<br />Or better still the mangey few who understood at once their need -<br />and kept them happy where they slept<br />dreaming we all are the fools in glass and stone they seek<br />but who actually throw them biscuits, floral wrapped<br />so the mighty once placated may suffer us the love we share<br />or less likely confiscate it<br />For no Caesar could command that force, -our love cannot be earned<br />or gained in battle to the death such love would just be spurned<br />Its fused in spirit not the flesh<br />no way to change the heart<br />Only battered souls coincident<br />at least this much we've learned</center>
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<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky"></a><span style="background-color: silver;"></span><h3>
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Friendship, Love and Lust"></a>Friendship, love and lust</h3>
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So what's the way you feel with me? he asked his fair companion the 'what' you guessed- while still feeling fine, she answered in this fashion the friendship, love, and lust I've felt it comes at different times and I've no shame to feel that way when your're with me - oh love of my mine</center>
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but then the way we were today... we walked and ran and played We've never needed words for fill and time just slipped away I love the satisfaction of days glowing to their end and never have I felt - as fine since I could count you friend</center>
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but now I find the days are long when you're not by my side I reach for someone who's not there and that's helped me to decide my dear our friendship's simply not enough the sun's setting casts me doubts when you're not close its then I fear to see my setting suns without or arise when you're not near</center>
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and in the darkest moments of the night I awaken with my soul forsaken and lonely in my lonely bed wishing that empty spot was taken by a friend who is my lover who conjurs lust from love reshapened whose heat is fired by passion creating bliss that has me shaken though today my love is taken tomorrow I will be yours and yours for evermore.</center>
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<h3>
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="The Fall of Couples"></a>The Fall of Couples</h3>
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The harvest moon stands witness to constancy of life that finds relief from constancy by changing hearts and strife</center>
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A chilling change in seasons decay's smelt in the grass rising mist from warmer waters Not frozen yet like glass</center>
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For yesterday was summer no leaves were on the ground and couples loved each other while warmth was all around</center>
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But temperatures have fallen cold, nothing grows at night and distant howls are calling desperate prayers by candle light</center>
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"Will we last the winter with wind borne snow and ice or will we fade to blackness because we chose to fight?"</center>
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A better change of season to harvest what we sow No need for better reasons as fallen fruit may grow</center>
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Something deep inside us was planted in the sun that flourishes with snow melt and blooms in everyone</center>
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<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky"></a><span style="background-color: silver;"></span><h3>
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Impressionless"></a>Impressionless</h3>
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I was taken by the shadow of the moving bus in the sunlit artifacts of morning,</center>
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leaving impressions, however fleeting, of our presence,</center>
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first there, then gone, oh how could that be?</center>
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A beautiful voice caught my ear In the lazy evening,</center>
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tickling my Interest as it wafted by with sweet tones of love in words</center>
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that faded into the night</center>
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I knew they had been but was I dreaming?,</center>
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just like that they were gone</center>
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like I'd come and gone</center>
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watched my shadow move impressing sunlit entities</center>
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and then within a flickering instant</center>
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things had passed swept by the waves on seashore</center>
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sand washed with shells and life</center>
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Washed footsteps, where my feet had been,</center>
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where we had been</center>
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but were no more</center>
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<h3>
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Death by Email"></a>Death by Email</h3>
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too weak to type</center>
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too steeped in sadness.</center>
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all this just because retribution was swift</center>
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pin point accurate</center>
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like a smart neutron bomb</center>
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with buildings standing but their humanity gone</center>
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for without your breath could they breathe?</center>
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for without your light could they see</center>
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without you could they live?</center>
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nourished child left to starve</center>
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through Mornful afternoon and night</center>
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when left alone allowed thought and flight from real words</center>
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that now won't come</center>
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not the way soul mates would have done i</center>
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nstead death, all is death and black as the night</center>
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without your air without your light without you</center>
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until I was finished</center>
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but I am finished dying I am finished</center>
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extinguished my love by love</center>
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I am done</center>
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j'expiré</center>
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<h3>
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Hollowness"></a>Hollowness</h3>
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In a world that doesn't owe us anything or anyone</center>
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I had found my one true love</center>
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but today she's not beside me memories won't be good enough</center>
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Its a hollow heart that's in me she's not running at my side</center>
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and I've had enough of lonely hollowness is deep inside</center>
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Letting go would be surrender</center>
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Holding on in pain is rough but I'd bear that pain and sorrow</center>
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for the memory of her love I know our time is short here</center>
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fewer seconds left than past</center>
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and I wonder if the seconds left without her</center>
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could be traded if I asked</center>
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I would trade the time without her</center>
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for another day in love with the woman who once loved</center>
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me just one day would be enough</center>
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<h3>
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Two Pines"></a>Two Pines</h3>
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The white pine sapling, barely four feet tall, was planted in the fall of 1865 with the cataclymic collapse of its parent. Felled by a lightning strike, that majestic tree came crashing down to earth, embedding seeds and pine cones into the improbable gravel and rock that would give birth to new life.</center>
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The great hulk of wood lay across the nearby stream bed serving up a causeway for all, hikers and animals. Over time it had been worn smooth with branches left strategically to offer handholds to those that needed them.</center>
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Time passes slowly for trees, they don't move much unless the wind blows but there are the movements of animals and humans, sometimes stopping for quick relief, othertimes, snapping off a piece of bark or simply holding them selves up for a good scratch.</center>
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Across the creek another sapling white pine had stemmed from that same crash. The two of them became aware of each other through the transit of pine nuts and chatter between the squirrels that had adopted them as haunts. The forest chatter boxes could climb then and screech at the neighborhood. A neighborhood, which in general, could care less about screeching and more about the peace and quiet that had settled in since the great storm of '65.</center>
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But with the passage of years, change took place. That convenient transit point was replaced by humans and their small bridge since the trail that had been used so casually became much busier. The new traffic left the pines alone. The human folk had grown accustomed to the saplings and they'd grown so that in 1917 as the early vehicles started plying the roads, many would stop and admire them while crossing.</center>
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The two pines had become trees. They'd sway gracefully in the breeze, only vaguely aware of each other, peaceful, graceful, growing imperceptably, oblivious to the traffic while broadening their expanse with the passing of each summer, growing higher, and stronger, roots finding new grabholds, nooks and crannies to hold the earth ever more tightly.</center>
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Then one day, there arose spirit within them. The hearts of those trees had grown so large that the spirit of the spring could flow into them and remain. Each tree was given its own spirit and the life force within them grew to sustain itself in an awesome presence. No longer were they simply trees but living things with their own righteous place in the universe.</center>
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At that moment the two, which had been saplings were capable of creating their own pine cones. They wanted to be together but meters and water separated them. So they remained passively, as trees do, patient and reserved as the years passed them by until one spring morning they sensed their outer branches had touched.</center>
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At that moment a transfer of life force took place between them, a passing of energy and spirit, they had become joined in a most unique way. All that passed their way were moved to stop and admire the now great white pines that reached over the bridge and mingled their branches in an arching canopy. The full reach of those magnificent pines was an inspiration to all that saw them as they had somehow survived the years, and the press of civilization to become forever entwined as one.</center>
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<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="The_Cold_Town_"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="The_Cold_Town__"></a>The Cold Town<br /><br />Grim northern town is stirring<br />the sun, too cold, won't rise<br />past frigid trees and frozen lakes<br />all lined by ice blue skies<br />The cold, cold, ground lies silent<br />for there is no comfort under snow<br />that's hard and snaps with footsteps<br />cursing engines that won't go<br />Ice fog hangs low on dwellings<br />smoke eeks up then shivers down<br />along the barren streetscapes<br />where dark creatures can be found<br />cold haunts their doors and windows<br />for the heat that hides inside<br />for any spark of warmth that lives<br />with no fire - no life would thrive<br />That hardy life in coats and boots<br />which peeks from touques and smiles<br />with wooden gestured stiffened breath<br />and dreams of southern climes<br /><br /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky">kayaky </a><br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="snowflakes"></a>snowflakes<br /><br />snowflakes<br />alight in the pale light<br />some held aloft<br />dance playfully<br />among the tree boughs<br />its christmas time and<br />love is coming down<br />moonbeams muffled by moondogs<br />warm the wintry sky<br />making my path clear<br />and bright on this<br />most wonderful<br />winter night<br /><br /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky">kayaky</a><br />
<br /><br />
<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Merry_Christmas"></a>Merry Christmas<br /><br /><br /><br />We love snow for christmas<br /><br />it lets us go and play<br /><br />In drifts of powdery whiteness<br /><br />not work our lives away<br /><br /><br /><br />The luxury of the holidays<br /><br />Let's sleep past bright sunrise<br /><br />In goose down cosey sleigh beds<br /><br />to clear those baggy eyes<br /><br /><br /><br />And sinful treats that meet us<br /><br />are chocolat sweet and good<br /><br />for once a year, this season comes<br /><br />to eat, its understood<br /><br /><br /><br />Just give one gift that's frivolous<br /><br />not practical or plain<br /><br />a gift that one- might like to get<br /><br />not ties, or socks that day<br /><br /><br /><br />And do something for someone else<br /><br />but never let them know<br /><br />its coming from one's inner self<br /><br />where only goodness flows<br /><br /><br /><br />Praise the lord or pray you must<br /><br />This christmas time so white<br /><br />a prayer from us to change our world<br /><br />Merry Christmas for all - good night<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry2.html#kayaky"><br />kayaky</a></center>
*********Have a Nice Day**********Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-10896258245186667012018-08-10T19:37:00.002-04:002018-08-11T11:17:19.800-04:00Even more poetry<div>
Killing Time</div>
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Time slipped by but I didn't notice </div>
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I was enjoying myself and never looked at my watch </div>
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Time dragged on - boring me to tears </div>
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I looked up but the scenery was unchanging seconds dripped and hung in the hallway </div>
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like socks on a line </div>
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I waited for the rent cheques to come in, the months are too long </div>
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I just paid the rent and now its due again, the months are too short </div>
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What took you so long - </div>
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Man that was fast I think I might have cancer, there's no time to loose </div>
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Slow down there's plenty of time we've got all day </div>
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If I take the 7:05 I can get there five minutes early </div>
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But that bus was five minutes early and I was ten minutes late </div>
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Does anybody really know what time it is </div>
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Hurry up and wait, hurry up and stop all my life is now </div>
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I've waited a lifetime for this, </div>
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I've dreamed of this all my life time is all we have </div>
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so come on lets go and blow some time</div>
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<br /></div>
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kayaky</div>
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Back to the top</div>
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The spark betwen us</div>
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Do you remember the night our heads touched? between the pit and the pillows. In a strange haze Dreaming, awake or thinking there was a spark between us as our heads touched</div>
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Do you remember the light of the spark between us that woke the dream and broke the train of thought the night you got my mind and gave me your body you took my thoughts then drove me home</div>
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<br /></div>
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In hell frozen over on farmer's fields burning too hot one night could burn again as bridges fell and sparks ignited between soul mates</div>
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<br /></div>
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kayaky</div>
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Back to the top</div>
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Boomerang</div>
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The boomerang to some may be a wondrous machination </div>
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Its flight from hand then back again </div>
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defies ones expectation </div>
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And while we don't expect we'll ever see </div>
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that boomer's flight returned </div>
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Its what we give and get in life </div>
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that's paralleled we've learned </div>
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Thrown from hand and left forgotten </div>
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its not gone at all you see </div>
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Just on its way in space and time </div>
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and turning back to thee </div>
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all coming back in ways unknown, </div>
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forgotten it just might </div>
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with equal force to that once thrown return in kind or fight</div>
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<br /></div>
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kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to the top</div>
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<br /></div>
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Thoughts</div>
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When as a boy with no thoughts at all No words to think and life a ball older now with much in mind just white and black in a simpler time</div>
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Now wondering if thoghts make one blessed or burden the soul when the soul should rest not think the thought but stop to feel since thoughts on their own only cheapen whats real</div>
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Looked all around and what did we see people who once thought but still choose to be living and laughing and crying with those whose choose to live simply sharing life as it goes</div>
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<br /></div>
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but there are others who ache intheir hearts long for another, not their minds, but those parts of the lvoer that loves them, yes craving them too needing to be with them like I'm needing you</div>
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<br /></div>
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and others are happy but their words ring hollow Their eyes look past us thinking of loved ones they recollect They're not really happy but filled with regret wishing they spent more time holding hands not arguing points or debating their plans with thoughts like mine rushing like blood in the brain thoughts like my words falling empty in pain</div>
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<br /></div>
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trembling thoughts which through heart seem to say look now to the future forget yesterday but the tomorrow I've got - and a present won't wait its the present we need more than what's at the gate</div>
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Future uncertain not ours to be sure only for thinking and hoping they were today is the blessing and feeling so right I chooe to be with you each day and night</div>
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<br /></div>
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kayaky</div>
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Back to the top</div>
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The time of our life</div>
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Where are those moments when things seemed so right? </div>
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We must have been sleeping when life was that bright </div>
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It passed us i moments so fleeting like paintings of colours and textures workth keeping </div>
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passively living that we don't even try tides roll in moments </div>
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and they just passed us by </div>
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No wanting or waiting till moments are through living each moment </div>
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because I'm with you </div>
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Finding in new ways with chapters begun without ever knowing </div>
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the moment is done </div>
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Moments aren't beter when looking back then </div>
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older and wiser they won't cheat us again </div>
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but too busy fighting and bucking the flow </div>
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We don't notice the thief when he comes to the door </div>
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Its time picking pockets and moments of life</div>
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snatching those moments when things seemed so right </div>
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Another day comes we waste not one minute more </div>
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We'll absorb it and feel it and let our hearts soar </div>
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Each moment now while our hearts are still beating </div>
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Releasing our minds leave the heart that is seeing </div>
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Living each moment the best way we can </div>
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Ask for God's mercy should that moment end </div>
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Not asking for moments when things seemed so right </div>
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since time slips away like a thief in the night </div>
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not wanting or waiting til one moment is through </div>
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just sharing each moment, because I love you</div>
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<br /></div>
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kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to the top</div>
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<br /></div>
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Choices and Consequences</div>
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Cast upon celestial sphere lie countless points of light </div>
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Stars that shine hang deep beyond the boundless edge of night </div>
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Cardinal winds lift wings up high upon their holy flight </div>
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Seven seas roll high and vast, tossed on by godly might</div>
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Mountains dwelling unimpressed </div>
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on continents that move teeming billions breath the sky </div>
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and share each breath with you </div>
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Whose beating heart and pulse of life </div>
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could not be found untrue </div>
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Great forces that have joined us here now ask what we will do</div>
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You look at me as I at you and wonder just the same </div>
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Are you the one completing life, the reason why we came? </div>
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Existing upon the earth in some great plan sustained </div>
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or just another passing ship upon life's shifting main?</div>
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No heartaches worse than loveless cursed, if their love is discarded </div>
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No hole is deep enough to hide in darkness once they've parted </div>
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Declared love scorned, left shunned and alone, not just broken hearted </div>
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For if one asked for love again, would not another just be started</div>
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Why would ask if they were sure, their choice if ever made </div>
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for finding one they felt they loved, that place should never trade </div>
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God help the souls who would ever doubt their choice if doubt infiltrate </div>
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The flood which flows will decimate best plans if ever laid</div>
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Can love so strong survive, not wither look where once were lovers </div>
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now two strangers lie with no passion, and no meaning, no cause for which to try </div>
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Just motions passed through endless days, if love there, they deny</div>
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<br /></div>
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But love, will endure, both time and space, </div>
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yet some it grows still stronger and two were friends - and nothing more - </div>
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will find that each will long for the time the spend may never end, </div>
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and then they start to wonder If their lover were meant to be, </div>
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then apart they' d be no longer</div>
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<br /></div>
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So as the sun will rise, and cross the sky, beyond a love's December </div>
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and tears were cried and friends have died, long after they remember </div>
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as old and grey those two who stayed through life are still together </div>
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their love was strong yes strong enough stand what others could not weather</div>
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<br /></div>
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But what's hard to grasp in all of this </div>
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is how in God's creation </div>
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That two had met and fell in love and sealed their new formation </div>
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Through one embrace, a kiss or touch, </div>
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within this constellation </div>
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still a better match could not be made </div>
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in wildest imagination</div>
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<br /></div>
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kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to the top</div>
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<br /></div>
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The changing Face of time</div>
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When rays descent upon its face shadows fall, but leave no trace </div>
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They measure time and then erase all signs of what had taken place </div>
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Light and darkness dance on its base and quickly vanish with a haze </div>
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oblique lines that mark our phase, its time escaping time we waste</div>
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Time that's passed is not replaced, and time observed </div>
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upon that face will weem to linger, it will not race, </div>
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until at last averting gaze we find that time has taken days, </div>
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and months then years and left in grace and looking back from golden age, </div>
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thank good for life and sing his praise</div>
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<br /></div>
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Now quickly flashes lighs and beams, </div>
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we move at speed of light it seems no time to sleep, </div>
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no time to call, </div>
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our life has just turned digital blinking , </div>
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flashing, flitting red, there's numbers moving by our bed </div>
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we know the time in seven zones </div>
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with wires' running through our homes </div>
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the face of time has changed for we </div>
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who cannot stop to even breathe </div>
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and when we die good chance we'll see </div>
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computers tell us when to leave</div>
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<br /></div>
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connected by exotic threads, </div>
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their brains no longer fill their heads electrodes sparking </div>
<div>
all along they have no need for flesh and bone </div>
<div>
no arms, no legs, they can't forget their life's become an internet </div>
<div>
so alpha an omega, their bottled life goes on </div>
<div>
they've come to see the future but the face of time has gone</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ode to a Rose</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Surrounded by thin walls of serenity there beats a restless heart pressing in on complacency which causes one o start ehn wondering if the time has come to once again depart you'd leave comfort and safety - escape from hell is art.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sitting on a tin roof, baked too hot by sun a need to move materialized, and now you want to run away from simple lassitude, still you reach toward no one A peculiarly human choice, a choice is clearly none</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Away, fly away, from thiose most close to you for as they gather near they might just see the darkest side and thoughts of it strike fear your empty heart cannot escape from eyes thy pry and tear the mask has dropped and left behind the one inside the mirror Look back at me oh changing face you are not really in control You're merely moving with the flow with those upon the road Each step you take just leads fruther fromt he only path you've known but perhaps some day, and some other place, you'll finally be at home</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But happy days have long since passed and days weill seem to fly A life that's planned but meaningless, why do you even try? Still plan you do, and so neat and clean your selves are high and dry God forbid a speck of dust should drift and settle by</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What is that suit of cloths you wear? How did you get that life? Possessed too much then sold it all, left children and a wife? Your shiny place in some new town has taken a high price Just carry on, each day anew with each friend you valuize</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What good is life when theire's no love and love you'd have to earn what good is love that you receive giving nothing in return so having loved they found their love was destined to be spurned and hands that felt the flame are shay after they were burned</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You find your road is strainght and like a stretching wire the side trips that you thought you'd take never do transpire knowing how your path had started you know it leads no where you leave one hell to find the next until that dream expires</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
so you're never tired, still you can't sleep You're never sad but find no peace You're not alone, you have your' friends they just come around and leave again</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The universe and mr. Potato head</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The deep distant domain of the gods defies our penetration our pathetic probes and telescopes are no better than our imagination But ist as far as any of us have seen and we haven't seen a fraction of it yet Looking skyward into the vst blueness is as close to infinity as we can get "What's out there in the great beyond?" so many have asked are we on some odd loop that circles round and merely takes us back universe expanding or galzxies contracting, stars exploding what a place! in all the sky that we can see there is no other earth or even a trace of life that will speak to us - and how lonely that can be Because our little globe of blue and white is the only one we see</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
so frustrated we turne our search inwards and proudly line up atoms on shiny wafers of tin but just as before we are stymied and stumped as their size retreats within There is no way for us to tell if our atoms interact we sense somehow that its our chemistry that attracts with tiny fragments so small and so fast their passing right through neutrinos, quarks and photons, are attracting me and you</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Deep within the mind of Mr. Potato head is a growing awareness of who we are and what we've done and said but our efforts to poke and probe and see the way things really are don't fully give the answers or the guide we seek the sum will never equal the parts what's lumped and split informs us - but our wisdom remains weak</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Dying embers</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Will you stay with me - and talk with me for just a little while? Right here by the fire even though you must be tired and hold me for a moment but one that just might last until the moment comes the morning and the evenings' past</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
but the fire is out, whilte the embers still glow you've gone off to bed and the light is all low But my need was too great, - I had hoped that you'd know And I wish you had asked me before leaving to go</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Snow Worship</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Winter's my religion on a bright december day </div>
<div>
sifting through fresh fallen flakes </div>
<div>
wearing snowshoes on the trail </div>
<div>
mother winter holds me, her blanket made of snow </div>
<div>
father sky bestowes me with his peaceful blue and cold </div>
<div>
dazzling solar diamonds, dress the white and frozen crust </div>
<div>
a frosty feast and wonderland of wind blown angel's dust </div>
<div>
crisp shadows cross my path and point me to the south </div>
<div>
strobing sunlight through the trees - erasing any doubts </div>
<div>
seasons reassure me, winter's constant like the sun </div>
<div>
promising renewal - not salvation should it come </div>
<div>
wrapped in wintry silence - seeming lifeless but soon reborn </div>
<div>
from dormancy to flourish just as life will be restored</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tell me</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Will you come and meet with me underneath the moon? in darkness bathed in lightness just like we used to do each cycle of the planet with the silver orb in sky was something I would long for just knowing you'd be mine</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Our fingers dripped with moonlight cast through the window sill Your hair with golden firelight - a memory haunts me still my hands felt the silken smoothness and softenss of your skin returned by sweet caresses and the heat that burned within</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A vision in the temple of love illuminated would rise before the alter as we wildly consumated naken passion moved and pulsed together in the night our heaving bodies drench with sweat which shimmered inthe light</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
abnd when we both were finished minds numb and bodies spent lying there as hearts beat down to synchopated rest no sweeter moment has there been as drifting off to sleep I felt your body nest to mine and love ran true and deep</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Such is the rush of temporal code that flashes as I dream an image of us locked in time we two will only see But dreams are not enough for me - I need to know you're there wanting all the things I do - that dream is meant to share</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tell me now you'll meet with me with the moon is cycling high and shine yourself upon me as the starlight tumbles by The work may spin in silence but we will join and fly far far from terra firm, those souls ignited cannot die</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Musical Sex</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The knife blades chopping, clacking, slicing snipping rythmically clipping The piston pump's pumping - snorkling, pocca pocketing musically thumping The steam engine's steaming - chug chuggalug chugging</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Are we really like that - we try not to think so </div>
<div>
WE make music panting and heaving sighing and sometimes laughting and crying when cold humans come together though coldly it is a prick -ly pot of mechanical parts and picks So their vibrating tool is humming, clicking and whirring </div>
<div>
Strangely, its satisfying, while buzzing and tantalizing </div>
<div>
she with wet lips and fingers fools herself as she dreams on but sooths herself too and he is no better plays it all by ear, </div>
<div>
beat beat beating whap whap whapping and drum drum drumming with his one good hand </div>
<div>
Its a caccaphony of misery when playing in the one man band </div>
<div>
They coming together - moaning and groaning huffing and puffing, </div>
<div>
squeaknig and shaking as they rattle and roll slurping and sucking as they are passionately fucking until symbols clashing their music is gone </div>
<div>
ah but somewhere in the distant hills the memory of that melody echoes still like some catchy tune you can't turn off compelling you to play it again, and again and again since you first heard it in the distance or through the wall in some small town </div>
<div>
where a pickup group was a pickin and a grinnin or as a nifty little ditty in a disco city where the beat when on and on</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Between Us</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Things between us cannot be seen, nor can they be heard</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No dangerous words too hot in frigid lands</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
like gental touching - skin on skin by urgent longing hands</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Or voices that beseech us in a dimly lit recess</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
encouraging our lips and tongue to places never guessed</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Things between us cannot be seen or heard</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
unseen - the redness, unfelt the wetness</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
of swollen parts that ache and crave their desperate release</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
unheard gasping bodies lying blissful once they're spent</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Unread minds, not of this world - ecstatic, heaven sent</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
those things that come are between us, unknown</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and too powerful for mated souls</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
unknown musk beneath a moon soaked in sultry sounding jazz</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
unspeakable candlelit moments which dare to be cried out</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As they are between us and no one else</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Stripped of daily burdens - painful memories are obscured</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
by love and lust imagined</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
then unknown, by us procured</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Summer of Susan</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Love's a funny thing You don't look for it, </div>
<div>
it finds you and when it hits - oh lordy </div>
<div>
Do the senses come alive with the brush of skin on skin </div>
<div>
stirring a dizziness while the sweetness of those kisses could never end</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Older and wiser though far from invulnerable one summer </div>
<div>
He'd lost his resolve, finding himself unlike he'd been before </div>
<div>
with masks stripped and the borders dropped </div>
<div>
He stood bare -heart on his sleeve</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Unless you'd turned to ice, and were frozen to the core </div>
<div>
I'm sure you'd have known the deal, and if you'd seen this all before </div>
<div>
with faith restored you'd know those feelings were real </div>
<div>
and wouldn't soon be leaving that scene</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was the summer that he met Susan the summer </div>
<div>
that changed everything and he was wondering what to do </div>
<div>
when he checked out of the deep freeze into the warm summer air</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then came their questions, the uncertainty about the future </div>
<div>
quite rightly</div>
<div>
but who gives a care about the future </div>
<div>
when the one you love is right in front of you?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then came their plans, the hope about life </div>
<div>
which we need for survival, which is the meaning of life </div>
<div>
our dependence on another day yet to come for salvation</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then came their schemes </div>
<div>
The intricate webs of truth and dare borne of minds on fire and hearts of passion </div>
<div>
whose point was the focus of two people </div>
<div>
longing for each other at any cost</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yet to come, the moments rehearsed a thousand times </div>
<div>
played out in slow motion but never exactly as imagined </div>
<div>
making our explanations after the fact </div>
<div>
after the decisions are all said and done </div>
<div>
because their hearts had made the decisions for them</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now he'd had his summer of Susan and </div>
<div>
He'd be needing the rest of his life with her too</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lady of the light</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The lady of the light she comes </div>
<div>
to pass from room to room upon the heels of night with wax - upon the verge of truth</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The silence of the evening brings her solitude enough and candles lit release her soul transcending it with love and peace as ghostly tapers glow</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The shades of lighness dance and fall she moves from room to room upon the heels of night with dreams where no one else intrudes</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The lady of the night with light the glow cast room by room her silent temple of the night in light with hope imbued</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
she sees the light and sees her life and longs for love renewed</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Three words</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I told him so many times in different ways how much I loved him those were my words not his And though the time we spent together -was meaningful days had passed not having heard what my thoughts had turned But he just couldn't say the words Just three words he could but would not say the words I longed to hear</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I had felt the impact of those words they weren't easy -not easy to say until they had never been so true then they flowed like time into the future with hope as their star But he just couldn't say those words three words he couldn't say the words I longed to hear</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then years had passed us together happily snuggled in our bed or smiling on the range laughing in the wind and sun He never ever said those words and yet we are still one while others had come and gone He remains today He couldn't say those words three words I have never heard three words he couldn't say Yet he remains today In love</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Quantum Steps</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Where is the source that we've never seen </div>
<div>
We know it was with us when we all came to be Traces of value yet uncertainty and oh how we miss them, so why did they leave?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Alive yet barren they existed, with nothing and everything unseen quantum-like thresholds, to be transcended - when the time was right</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Discovery lay before them, finding what had always been discovering what was always there for twin flames and soul mates made self aware</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Pure thoughts of recognition were borne in the whitest light casting shadows on the past drawn forward by life</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Acelerating bands moving outward expanding from pin points, to expose new vistas behind - those who moved too slowly or held back by their silver threads</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They were the starlight becoming our hope twin flaming lovers and soul mates eloped daring to leave us, their source was their own yet we can still see them, their essence still glows</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Kissed by the River</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Like storied beginnings we know there's an end but a river runs through us to-day </div>
<div>
it saves us from emptiness kissed near its banks </div>
<div>
though our wishes together may wane</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Long days of longing and longer the nights </div>
<div>
We walked cold from our subsided pyres </div>
<div>
like a river that flows without life -has no life like a river, </div>
<div>
our lives were those nights</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Kissed by the river, adorned by its light </div>
<div>
sheltered by kindness and love </div>
<div>
showed us the way to the new waters edge </div>
<div>
we know its beginning, but we don't know the end </div>
<div>
still it follows the river - and will leave us as friends</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Something so new and so wonderful borne </div>
<div>
like sun dappled waves given birth each with beginnings </div>
<div>
and each with an end </div>
<div>
and we watch them together in love</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
ride on the river and taste its sweet light</div>
<div>
imagine still onwards- the sea </div>
<div>
The salt like that kiss sweeps us on to the end </div>
<div>
where our wishes and hopes set us free</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ride on the river, or kiss on its banks </div>
<div>
and salty - that kiss finds the sea know river's beginning, </div>
<div>
we may know its end </div>
<div>
but its depth wished and hoped soon shall be</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Long Goodbyes</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lovers enamoured are stealing their glances </div>
<div>
nothing deters their soft gaze </div>
<div>
pained by their parting the moment enhances </div>
<div>
sweet sorrow of romance is plain</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fingers will linger but longer the kiss </div>
<div>
Soft lips burn passion's desire </div>
<div>
Sparks surging into the heart of their matter </div>
<div>
and leaving them tortured by fire</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Words suffer silence - they cannot be said </div>
<div>
with time in its perilous flight </div>
<div>
For words are not worthy in moments like those </div>
<div>
so unspoken they cut like a knife</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Tell me you love me", "I'm branded, I'm your's" </div>
<div>
Mark them on leaving - that day </div>
<div>
If life was to end in an instant - no fear </div>
<div>
Just together, together, they pray</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Minds spin in ecstacy, hearts loving free </div>
<div>
'til finally leaving they sigh </div>
<div>
the parting is over the pining begins </div>
<div>
for they love these exquisite goodbyes.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Children of Mercy</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The child of gentle mercy took years for him to know </div>
<div>
and had they met what little chance or time for them to grow</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then somewhere down the road long years when paths were set </div>
<div>
like sailors heading eastward in convoys heading west</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A world that cut no favours yet somehow still they met </div>
<div>
though chance for them was faded two hearts could be impressed</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fate delivered destinies and love enough to know </div>
<div>
Their choice of steps made promises together they'll grow old</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Space</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
On one's deathbed nobody will ever say "give me more space"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Space is silent, and vast between two people who have stopped talking to each other</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Space... the last frontier is anxiety provoking, love and hate are dynamically induced in the astronaut who loves the trip, but longs for mother earth</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Space, is a cure-all for too much stuff but with no limits to space how do you find the stuff you're looking for? and how do you know what you've found isn't really someplace else too, because with infinite stuff in infinite space how could you think straight?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lost in space, you may last forever circling like a comet, or burn up in a star with the ass of your spacesuit on fire</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Space is owned by nobody, but everybody owns space</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My mind traverses space faster than the speed of light One blink and I'm there since, eyes closed, there is no space but there is emptiness - without you</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Spaced out, outer Space, inner Space inner place, inner join, not cold and lonely but warm and filled like the cup -not half empty that space, but space half filled</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In space, parsecs can stretch out their parallax angles for a whole second It took me lightyears to learn that! Normal people never say, give me some parsecs Thats too far really, too far</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My space, abhors a vacuum, like nature does it wants all the stuff you can put into it but for a man of simple needs the thing I need most in my space is you</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Changed by Looking</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You look at me and I change I'm not the same as I was </div>
<div>
with no explanation for this its what your looking does to me </div>
<div>
my window opens for your eyes only So your view is unique </div>
<div>
No one else can see through your portal even I cannot </div>
<div>
because your looking changes me </div>
<div>
I never see the me you see </div>
<div>
I can only be the one I am who changes when you look at me</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My eyes were closed, and I was asleep </div>
<div>
but you stirred from rest and looked at me </div>
<div>
but by looking I changed, suddenly waking to see you </div>
<div>
no longer asleep - we make love did the looking change us?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I looked at you and you changed </div>
<div>
I saw beauty and grace </div>
<div>
but then your window opened and I saw an ocean of love </div>
<div>
so I dove in- on the spur of that moment </div>
<div>
My looking sent me for a swim but your looking let me in </div>
<div>
we change in each others eyes </div>
<div>
from the ones we are to the ones we can be</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In Natural Light</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the clear light of the day when our secrets are displayed </div>
<div>
I saw the truth revealed between us and its made me feel this way</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't need another reason to make my next decision </div>
<div>
Uncovered by the window dressings Illuminated by the omnipresent sun</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I saw you in the natural light your heart was clear and bright no storms could dull the softness of it or its silken shape so slight</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
unshadowed first communion solar diamonds played without confusion </div>
<div>
impressed us with what we could see and feel, instictively as we move on</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The wonder of love in mornings glow a closeness never known </div>
<div>
communicated souls in heavens grace where true love only grows</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Better days, ahead recall aided by the one we saw natural light </div>
<div>
and natural law together, somehow, where we belonged</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No,no,no</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I wish that I could find the words so I could tell you what its like being downtown in the city watching all the people on the street</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And she don't care - no she's not thinking of me She doesn't know that - I'm alive She don't care - 'sides maybe there's another that's she's in love with - What chance have I?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well I head out on the street until I can get some sleep I know someday soon we'll meet Until that moment ...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I head out on the street hoping somewhere soon we'll meet and until then - baby please Keep looking for me</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I promise not to be annoying But can you try to understand? I can't keep on the way I'm going cause after all,I'm - just a man</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No, no, no, don't freak out or say you hate me Just because I've lost my nerve Yes, Yes, Yes - For sure, I'll always love you And I will give you what you deserve</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well I head out on the street until I can get some sleep I know someday soon we'll meet Until that moment ...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I head out on the street hoping somewhere soon we'll meet and until then - baby please Keep looking for me</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Render unto Caesar</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The price of love is paid these days in blood and sweat and tears </div>
<div>
where nothing in this world is free and our pleasures cause us fear </div>
<div>
No wishes made for peace and harmony within this universe or hope for true love is delivered </div>
<div>
as love through us alone is cursed unless Caesar has approved it </div>
<div>
A simple smile, or glance between us shall raise the wrath of God </div>
<div>
and summer storms of sixth degree that all should fail their cause </div>
<div>
and leave us shattered on the street and wounded by the laws </div>
<div>
but kings and queens show deference to their subject's supplication </div>
<div>
and pass their judgement more cautiously to the weak's humiliation </div>
<div>
Or better still the mangey few who understood at once their need -</div>
<div>
and kept them happy where they slept </div>
<div>
dreaming we all are the fools in glass and stone they seek </div>
<div>
but who actually throw them biscuits, floral wrapped </div>
<div>
so the mighty once placated may suffer us the love we share </div>
<div>
or less likely confiscate it </div>
<div>
For no Caesar could command that force, -our love cannot be earned </div>
<div>
or gained in battle to the death such love would just be spurned </div>
<div>
Its fused in spirit not the flesh </div>
<div>
no way to change the heart </div>
<div>
Only battered souls coincident </div>
<div>
at least this much we've learned</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Friendship, love and lust</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So what's the way you feel with me? he asked his fair companion the 'what' you guessed- while still feeling fine, she answered in this fashion the friendship, love, and lust I've felt it comes at different times and I've no shame to feel that way when your're with me - oh love of my mine</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
but then the way we were today... we walked and ran and played We've never needed words for fill and time just slipped away I love the satisfaction of days glowing to their end and never have I felt - as fine since I could count you friend</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-5335334592395603342018-08-10T19:34:00.003-04:002018-08-10T19:54:52.924-04:00More Poetry More<br />
<div>
<div>
Photonic Dreams</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What's that?! He's been dreaming again- </div>
<div>
not working with other things to do </div>
<div>
Because his mind is racing with intoxicating and enchanting thoughts of who? </div>
<div>
But the screen shining, blankly is flickering or is it winking </div>
<div>
Like a changeling temptress of whom he's been thinking </div>
<div>
Imagining it's keys pipeline to her mind - flowing and caressing a</div>
<div>
nd mystically winds his thoughts to her door </div>
<div>
That light box could be a window to her soul </div>
<div>
One great eye into which they may both fall - limitless falling </div>
<div>
Oh grant him that he shall never land </div>
<div>
How can this mechanical thing perversely link him to her? </div>
<div>
Indelibly marked by memories or are these just dreams too? </div>
<div>
He knows why, and remembers how </div>
<div>
one evening what shone was moonlight </div>
<div>
which mingled with his keyboard friend, </div>
<div>
there upon them casting shadows of light and dark, </div>
<div>
good and bad, </div>
<div>
right or wrong </div>
<div>
with winged spectral harpists whispering </div>
<div>
then urging them to go on </div>
<div>
And finally moving into the light which beckoned - </div>
<div>
then surrounded them with the warm glow of friends - </div>
<div>
faces gone but hearts remaining </div>
<div>
a blissful union there - for ever more - until the end </div>
<div>
His machine has become a mental cue, </div>
<div>
and a strange one at that </div>
<div>
conjuring up such recollections by the video screen </div>
<div>
he sits at </div>
<div>
Drawn beyond the light now </div>
<div>
into the darkness of Her room </div>
<div>
washed with her scent upon the sheets </div>
<div>
which further sealed the night </div>
<div>
And there, coupled but not by the photonic chains of mail </div>
<div>
that never stop </div>
<div>
It seems, there was only their own essence </div>
<div>
as they sailed away into his dreams</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Patricia Maxine</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I was there when she slipped away </div>
<div>
quietly weeping I wondered what she thought </div>
<div>
A shadow of the person that I knew lay before me </div>
<div>
Yellow and weak, and bluster gone </div>
<div>
Part of me went with her </div>
<div>
And a piece of my heart is numbed by the loss </div>
<div>
But life goes on</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I was there when she slipped from us </div>
<div>
The few who stayed to watch </div>
<div>
And each of the last breaths she took tore at my soul </div>
<div>
Those were my last breaths too</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyone who has seen the face of death </div>
<div>
Is afraid no more </div>
<div>
But I never saw that face for I saw only you </div>
<div>
And what I saw made me so afraid </div>
<div>
That I was wasting time and filling days </div>
<div>
without meaning until you showed me the way</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now not a day goes by </div>
<div>
when I don't think of you </div>
<div>
How I miss you so, my Patricia</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Painful Voice</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A smokey dive where dimly lit</div>
<div>
a score of broken hearted sit </div>
<div>
joined in song in chorus with a painful voice to voiceless hits</div>
<div>
Loving, losing, leaving strains or songs </div>
<div>
to mommas, trucks or trains</div>
<div>
the DJ hurts with each refrain </div>
<div>
ensconced in Karaoke pain</div>
<div>
Too many beers and cigarettes, </div>
<div>
Hearts brimming with the blues </div>
<div>
Lives well lived not long but hard, </div>
<div>
whose dreams not sweet </div>
<div>
came true </div>
<div>
From corner seat she reaches out </div>
<div>
and penetrates the scene </div>
<div>
drawing looks back to her booth, </div>
<div>
how remarkable had it been</div>
<div>
That woman's crying in the bar, </div>
<div>
God knows she's been abused </div>
<div>
Her voice as painful as it sounds and bleating out of tune</div>
<div>
Cloistered small and shoulders hunched, battle worn and scarred </div>
<div>
The painful voice and friend who sing are sharing with the bar </div>
<div>
One note or phrase or whose to say </div>
<div>
what captures distant thought </div>
<div>
But when the moment seizes her </div>
<div>
she gives it all she's got</div>
<div>
No word is heard, no melody, </div>
<div>
musicality's away barking recognition </div>
<div>
with her memory all a haze </div>
<div>
No one laughs at painful voice they've heard her song before </div>
<div>
She's earned the right to sing that tune </div>
<div>
and keep coming back for more</div>
<div>
In smokey bar the crowd goes by, </div>
<div>
each night they start anew </div>
<div>
The painful voice that sings todayreturns in time for you</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not Friends</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Once we were good friends but now we don't meet </div>
<div>
We'd talk on for hours but now we don't speak </div>
<div>
And candlelit dinners were eaten on the floor </div>
<div>
But now I don't see you anymore</div>
<div>
How did that all come to happen? That's not what good friends are for! So here I sit alone and forgotten Because we're not good friends anymore</div>
<div>
Once I could call you and chat for a while It seemed there was nothing not said by and by and sometimes we'd sit and just watch the TV But now you won't even call me</div>
<div>
I could come over and show you my thoughts Words that were writen but poetry not Still that was enough to sustain us my friend But now I feel this is the end</div>
<div>
How did that all come to happen? That's not what good friends are for! So here I sit alone and forgotten Because we're not good friends anymore</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Musical Sex</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There they are - knife blade's chopping - clacking, slicing, snipping rythmically clipping </div>
<div>
There they go - piston pump's pumping - snorkling, pocca pocketing and musically thumping Here they come - steam engine's steaming - chug chuggalug chugging </div>
<div>
Are we really just like that? NO! </div>
<div>
At least we try not to think so. </div>
<div>
We make music panting, heaving, sighing and sometimes laughing and crying </div>
<div>
But when cold humans come together, coldly, it is a prickly pot of mechanical parts and picks </div>
<div>
So their vibrating tool is humming, clicking, whirring </div>
<div>
Strangely satisfying, while buzzing and tantalizing </div>
<div>
she with wet lips and fingers fools herself as she dreams on </div>
<div>
and sooths herself too </div>
<div>
And he no better plays it all by ear </div>
<div>
beat - beat - beating Whap - whap - whapping and drum - drum - drumming </div>
<div>
with his one good hand </div>
<div>
Its a caccaphony of misery when playing in the one man band! </div>
<div>
Then coming together again, moaning and groaning </div>
<div>
Huffing and puffing, squeaking and shaking as they rattle and roll </div>
<div>
Oh Momma! it is a symphony of ecstasy </div>
<div>
as they play their song </div>
<div>
Slurping and sucking as they are passionately fucking </div>
<div>
Until symbols clashing their music is gone. </div>
<div>
But somewhere in the distant hills </div>
<div>
The memory of that melody echoes still </div>
<div>
Like some catchy tun you can't turn off </div>
<div>
compelling you to play it again and again </div>
<div>
Since your first heard it in the distance or through the wall </div>
<div>
in some small town </div>
<div>
where a pickup group is apickin and agrinnin </div>
<div>
or as a nifty little ditty in a disco city </div>
<div>
and the beat goes on and on</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Maple Dreams</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sitting on the doorstep of their neighbor's front porch Staring at the sunlight dappling through the maple leaves He was sitting by her, speaking words to guide her and he took her to his world - a land of make believe They didn't see tomorrow, forgot about yesterday all they needed was there and then, loving her, - he felt that way Running round were children some were his - some hers and the house where they lived seemed to bustle all the time Just like sun soaked tree leaves they were all so happy Red and gold were colours of the love he gave to her Circling round were memories just like the falling leaves And all the things they left behind were blown about by the breeze Singing songs and playing games where everybody knows their names Thats what they were thinking sitting on the front doorstep that day</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lonely but Not in Love</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Emotions are responses to our love's profound attachements but happiness is only one of the possible reactions and loneliness may come along and sift between the cracks confusing us with feelings while disguised by cloak and hat</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Do you recall the reasons when you thought you fell in love? Overcome with those emotions you weren't circumspect enough! We're hungry when we're lonely, and the souls who come our way are out there looking for us and they're feeling just the same</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Its human feeling lonely, hoping loneliness will fade But little reason for a match if love could seize the day Had you understood your motives and entered with them known you'd have fallen into love but where there's feelings that you own</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Thin Grey Line</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Outside ourselves's a thin grey line where sky and earth collide </div>
<div>
where all around are questions and each choice hard to decide</div>
<div>
Which way is up, and which is down for all we see is fog </div>
<div>
each step is like a leap of faith and certainty's in shrouds</div>
<div>
Out here's a place so distant its a no man's land of sorts </div>
<div>
failing to provide a soul with means to chart one's course</div>
<div>
But course is set in fool's gambit we race to meet our end </div>
<div>
soaring through a starless soup 'lectronics understand</div>
<div>
Then suddenly the sun bursts through and what a sight </div>
<div>
that is wondrous glow and warmth engulfs with happiness and bliss</div>
<div>
A little trust goes light years on our never ending trip </div>
<div>
relinquish helm at times like these to fate or hidden grip</div>
<div>
Will me home then silver wings entrusted love with thee </div>
<div>
and if you fail to take me there I'll die more peacefully </div>
<div>
Than had I simply stayed on ground and plodded day by day </div>
<div>
Not wondering where path would wind where each bend was all I'd see</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the Zone</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My head is numb and I cannot think </div>
<div>
there's numbers racing round my eyes like rings </div>
<div>
Bunch of people looking down on me </div>
<div>
I'm too busy playing with my fucking strings </div>
<div>
Time is flying by and days go too </div>
<div>
Such a waste when I'm here with you </div>
<div>
In the zone where nothings clear I can't see, but I can feel you breathe </div>
<div>
Smell your scent, feel your heat I won't look at you - but I see your knees </div>
<div>
In the zone, in deep freeze </div>
<div>
Close enough to touch you and hear your heartbeat </div>
<div>
Where are you, where are we? </div>
<div>
We used to be people now we're history </div>
<div>
My eyes are gone my face is white </div>
<div>
Everything around me's such a fucking fright </div>
<div>
Too many people, did we go to far? </div>
<div>
Got on the bus and should have used my car </div>
<div>
Swinging tubes gonna hurt my brain </div>
<div>
Just a minute after I've gone insane </div>
<div>
In the zone, I'm not free </div>
<div>
Smell your body, feel your heat </div>
<div>
Touch my skin, hear me breathe </div>
<div>
Where are you, where are we?</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ideas</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
An idea passed my way and drifted through my mind </div>
<div>
like wind blowing through a willow </div>
<div>
it flowed through and changed me </div>
<div>
then left me wondering how we'd be the same </div>
<div>
until the ideas flowing aound us came through our windows </div>
<div>
and into our souls </div>
<div>
Changing our thoughts and bending our minds </div>
<div>
blowing in like a hurricane and changing us forever </div>
<div>
Like a childhood ravaged by adult notions </div>
<div>
Or converts struck dumb by faith flowing in </div>
<div>
like a summer breeze and toying with our emotions </div>
<div>
before leaving ringing chords on our wind chimes </div>
<div>
to remind us they've been and gone stealing in </div>
<div>
like a thief in the night robbing us of our self confidence </div>
<div>
we're left to wonder how we got here polarized, differentiated, ostrasizied </div>
<div>
We who would be empty vessels half empty, and half full </div>
<div>
Just cups of a different shape or colour </div>
<div>
Until filled with our own heady but often foul brew of ideas</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I think I'll like you</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yeah - I think I'll like you - that's not gonna be enough </div>
<div>
Sure I'm looking at you - cause I know your nut is tough </div>
<div>
Now you're looking past me but you're hoping I'm the one </div>
<div>
Cause you're sick of looking past me and you want to have some fun</div>
<div>
Come on, I wanna interest you baby </div>
<div>
Maybe you'll be interesting too </div>
<div>
I've been liking what I'm seeing </div>
<div>
So whatcha gonna do?</div>
<div>
Did you have something to say - well I've got something too </div>
<div>
It's my life story and there's a page in it for you </div>
<div>
Yeah - I think I'll like you - that's not gonna be enough </div>
<div>
You'd better like me baby if you wanna fall in love</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Henry Hyde</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Henry Hyde had an affair years ago, its on the internet They're swirling rumours round him and they're not giving up as yet Its not important why he did it only that he did It doesn't matter who she was or what he felt or said We're not machines you switch on and off and urges never quit so acting on them weaving tangled webs of truth and lies. Lives continually getting flushed down a drain of piss and shit filled up with raw emotion into a heady brew of human waste in a never ending cycle>don't give it a second thought or you'll be torn to bits When love and lust fall in the mix people are ground to dust But they're never changed by the process their life is the catalyst I feel sorry for Henry Hyde his only mistake is that he had loved too well and perhaps too much></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Home</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The aroma of fresh cookies filled our cosy yellow home </div>
<div>
With Magnificent Chocolate Chips so much like Mom used to make, </div>
<div>
that love was in the air </div>
<div>
Vases adorned the table with roses and white lillies </div>
<div>
Fresh and clean, vivid as only the present can be </div>
<div>
Music wafted in from every corner </div>
<div>
Lush piano bar music that dripped with sultry sounds </div>
<div>
hinting of quieter times and hidden memories </div>
<div>
Flickering at the hearth a warm and inviting fire, </div>
<div>
blazing enough to warm the soul and toes </div>
<div>
In that glow, the first kiss through the door was heaven on earth, </div>
<div>
a blessing and a recompense for everything </div>
<div>
that had ever come before or could possibly transpire </div>
<div>
until the end of days</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
handwriting</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Handwriting is a window into the soul watch how quickly it reflects the truth long after embellishment leaves the words and character remains The very ideas melting onto the page like a candle dripping etching and sometimes burning brightly flickering until out as if all thought had ended then suddenly as if sparked by some unseen force flickers yet again in darkness the light will shine like words piercing silence - words always words must be spoken to live and writen to endure</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Grains of Sand</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Up here the wind whips the thin air into a frenzy Grand Vistas sweep for no one but the Gods Rising up from nowhere reaching endlessly pushed relentlessly by inner fires the mountain kings shall yield</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Their significance slips by unnoticed in the seamless reach of time like the endless wash of surf on grains of sand they are the beach and the shore defining continents</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The slow motion ice tide comes in with its huge breakers crashing over the rocky coast Stripping every living thing every stubborn barnacle in their path</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And the sky stays gray and dark, no blue is seen hidden by the dust of millenia churned up by accidental visitors from outer space Our sun, the alpha and the omega waits patiently for spring</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Measured against these walls our heights are pitiful Red rocks and golden rays illuninate the highest spires and deepest canyons at dusk or dawn Down below the wash of ages rushes by carrying with it every rock and stone to meet their salty brothers by the sea</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Deeper still the depths where no human ever stirred Darkness means nothing here its always dark until their grizzly headlights come and its in the crush of water, with the weight of the world on everything, everywhere in dead silence where life may begin again</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Frost Returns</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Along the boulevardes of spring I've walked And hand in hand felt warmth of sun and you Under the full and vernal orb we've talked With give and take found sweet caress too few</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So many plans, have come and gone my dear My words seem pale compared to how I feel How could one say those words to you I fear Mocking sentimentality though real</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But then come nights when the full moon will rise Frosted icing with me lies no longer You've turned from the wall and feigning surprise Requiring service of men I wonder</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
How we've lived and loved so deeply just then Will frost return to melt away again?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I Love My Friend and Wife</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You must be me giving something because though we’ve never touched I look forward and see nothing and still I feel too much You just lift me up higher where air is fresh and rare and hours we pass will sometimes seem too hard for me to bear Oh – but what a feeling has come over me and when I think I’m going down I turn around and my heart has sung a different kind of song Its you that makes it play that tune, as one day we’ll meet again I’m just soaring – lifted up by seeing you – we’ll meet again – but when? Oh what’s that feeling that’s come over me? – when I think I’m rising high I turn around and then my mind just tells a different kind of lie “I’m only caught flat footed and broken by the loneliness of that day” Its not you that twists me turning in the wind when I see you’ve turned away “Don’t get too close!” love promised me but that promise was a lie Then I got close, too close for friends, and friendship surely died And friendship is, that after all, which made me want to stay But with those feelings haunting will they chase friendship away? She loves me, and I love she – there is no love triangle For I know love, I’ve loved before and this is my denial God strike me down for I have found a love I can rely on and if That’s the reason I can stay, then why am I still lying? And what kind of love is that my friend? When I can’t do without Your face, your voice, your gentle words that flow from lovely mouth? A curse be placed upon that love, its not what I had planned I did not ask to be in love, the Devil took my hand! If I’ve become an anecdote in a litany of men Those notches gone won’t soon return but I 'll still call you friend The world goes on and I must too, so I’ll face another day Infatuated with another,one a friend won’t turn away A different kind of love but far from love that stays Its born of distance once removed will finally dissipate Now I know its possible to love a friend and love will hold things true Who never touch, they’ll always hurt, good friends have heartaches too God gave me love and love I do, a fellow human being, just one Who got so close to me and all from just our meeting And those feelings within me? Don’t look! They’re locked and sealed. You’ll never open up that book, they’ll never be revealed It’s the price I pay and I live this way, we two will never be And what we have or might have had is not for us to see But love is good and I feel fine – I like what love has done! Each day those feelings transform me and create a new someone. An exhilarating rush of thoughts has changed my view of life I’m better now than I have been, I love both my friend and wife.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Food for thought</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You are so far away but in my mind you're still here beside me </div>
<div>
Its playing tricks with this lonely plebe While thinking is such nobility But you're so far away and though I remember, I still can't feel and though I dream , </div>
<div>
It just won't be and though I hope, I can't believe. </div>
<div>
So will you think of this when next we meet? and treat my senses until I leave, so crossing the border I perceive You'll keep me safe and warm and in love with thee.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fireballs in the Mirrors</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Forget the past, your how now's and where for's! </div>
<div>
Its always there Hour glass sand which knows no past, no where from </div>
<div>
Still tumbles through time It leads us to this moment, one of possibilities </div>
<div>
Though gone suddenly - its replaced Like fireballs in the mirrors of a setting sun </div>
<div>
We'll see it again - tomorrow</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Taking time, savouring life 'cause it won't last </div>
<div>
Mountain tops look down on fleeting moments </div>
<div>
But we'll have our present, filled with choices </div>
<div>
Decisions made quickly then lived out </div>
<div>
Like fire flies glowing in the deep summer night </div>
<div>
They're thin points of light - on a lonely road</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Out there who knows who's watching </div>
<div>
Only, from a distance everything stands still </div>
<div>
But we're on that road and we're moving on </div>
<div>
Two wheels rolling, moving like the wind </div>
<div>
There because of the past, and there for the present </div>
<div>
The past's converging but ahead there's a thousand suns </div>
<div>
And we'll take them on one by one</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Finger Dance</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Silver shadows danced while deft and dark they searched the shores of Rio </div>
<div>
Fingers reached while breathing deeply - gliding seething snakes in halos </div>
<div>
Burned temptations tips by titillation flared </div>
<div>
the way the wind blows lower than the heady brew </div>
<div>
It blew still kept where no one knows </div>
<div>
Oh to break that sureal stillness and simpering wetness </div>
<div>
Not filling ears with searing words or fumbling low caresses </div>
<div>
Another place once yesterday urging hands or finger presses </div>
<div>
electric moments forward to completion </div>
<div>
In these dimly lit recesses </div>
<div>
Better still than empty hours the solitary spark refreshes </div>
<div>
empty souls from empty beds which time alone addresses </div>
<div>
won’t waste away, another day in hopeless webs that blessed us </div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Evil Exes</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Images incinerated in some candlelit ritual </div>
<div>
Snarling names uttered in contempt by single gender covens </div>
<div>
Inflicting pins and needles </div>
<div>
They sinned, and were imperfect </div>
<div>
Disloyal and unfaithful, </div>
<div>
They lied, and they cheated </div>
<div>
Now exe's to be vilified </div>
<div>
Still fathers and mothers had them </div>
<div>
but they were the worms </div>
<div>
The scum of the earth </div>
<div>
Harassing, pestering, foul filth </div>
<div>
We ease the pangs of emotional detachment </div>
<div>
from these hateful hurtful beings </div>
<div>
That we once loved</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Even More</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Don't take me for granted I'm here for you now but that may not always be so Send me flowers, bring me chocolate, write me poetry and rub my feet and if you do then I will love you even more</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Don't look over there when I am here for one day you'll turn and I'll be gone dote on me, praise me, touch my hair and hold me, just hold me and if you do then I will love you even more</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Don't speak to her, don't dance with her when I am here and all alone for if you leave I might be gone on your return talk to me, touch me soul, and move with my spirit Just stay with me and if you do then I will love you even more</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'll hold you close and have your child I'll buy your clothes and send you smiles I'll warm your bed and ease your worried mind when times are tough and life gets bland I'll still be there to hold your hand Don't take me for granted, Don't gaze away, and I will love you even more</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Devotion</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This woman has feelings - this is no rag doll in his arms As he holds her close she clings on expecting safety from him not harm With a fragile heart which may be broken by a callous word of his if spoken And yes - made to sing with joy through simple kindness or affection What at first was shallow emotion is now moved by deeper devotion A woman that speaks through her every motion and in her eyes a greater ocean of vulnerability asking only "please take care with me" Such a responsibility he's accepted and done so honestly - and won't fail or disappoint</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This woman has beauty - this is no dime store trinket that he holds Dark hair, pale skin and smile illuminating sky Wouldn't any man find her fair and seek her out or try to woo her given half a chance - and love her too on second glance Would see the beauty there entranced by the good mother and angel longing now for sweet romance</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She has life - he feels her heart beating and senses each breath she's breathing sharing the same with he Can anyone say where this is leading or where they will go concerned more that somehow there by mistreating will someday break her heart In that evil deed - he'll take no part preferring that he would never start upon a path with her left to understand somehow why yet again she'd lost another man rather she's found instead a greater good and loving friend who'll stay with her and help her in any way he can</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Dancing With You</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I want to dance with you I want to watch your body move in time with mine Sweet locomotion, it's when I'm with you I feel so fine Can you feel the music the way I do? It's rippling down to my feet It's like I'm walking on air whenever we meet because I'm dancing with you</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Way down there pulusates the beat It's sliding and pumping away in my veins Or is it just my heart pounding because I'm looking your way and I understand why being with you makes me a better man I feel alive, I'm in love and nothing else matters as long as you are in my arms and I'm dancing with you</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You are a vision to me when you're spinning around and I see you toss your hair back So take me with you when you go - you just have to lead and I'll follow The lights have all gone down, can it be we're all alone? I can feel my skin tingle as you brush by and I'm so happy by your side Because I'm dancing with you</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You're laughing and its a beautiful thing I'm holding you close, and without thinking I've started to sing - and why shouldn't I sing to the woman I love - who's in my arms The music has long since stopped but our melody keeps playing and I can't wait to get you home We won't need that band, its beautiful music we'll be making when I'm dancing with you tonight</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My head is in the clouds, my feet are in the stars I love you woman its so plain to see Nothing is more important to me than to have you close Maybe we'll go out tonight Maybe turn up the heat tonight Forever things will be all right if we are Dancing together, you and me</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Things I meant and could not say</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You were overtaken by the day falling away , </div>
<div>
swept into deep rest until the morning </div>
<div>
Where waking from some dream were pressured by the hour </div>
<div>
and found No words from me to say how much I loved you</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Simple words never weighed so much </div>
<div>
On my heart or hung more heavily on my tongue </div>
<div>
By day found their place in my work </div>
<div>
Things I meant and could not say </div>
<div>
For fear of losing myself in their power </div>
<div>
things I should have said meant less not more that way</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I had slipped between flannel sheets </div>
<div>
In darkness, shadows freed from light </div>
<div>
And laid against my one true love whose warmth against the bitter night </div>
<div>
was refuge for my troubled mind No sweeter moment better shared </div>
<div>
Though that truth could not be told</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My eyes closed tight, world finally calm cocooned in warmth </div>
<div>
with you that night no uttered words to wrong or overflow the cup </div>
<div>
Of love so deep, which born of youth and ripened through time </div>
<div>
had swadled us in that cradle of mine</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ever present and constant I feared </div>
<div>
And held on tighter for </div>
<div>
With the passing of years like a leap into blackness </div>
<div>
like the darkness of that night headlong into the future </div>
<div>
prayed you would always be there</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No longer separate our lives entwined </div>
<div>
Memories melded, history enshrined </div>
<div>
More years together than apart </div>
<div>
Perhaps that fear was just a dream </div>
<div>
For you’d always been there for me</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Chances Are</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Chances are, you'll be laughing right out loud and thinking how we never had a prayer Telling all your friends you were just hoping it would end and trying not to let me down too hard</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Chances are - I ll be staying up at night And watching nothing much on the TV Trying not to think of you and me and the way things used to be, or could have been</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Chances are - we'll get on with our lives and how different after all could people be What attracted us was gone and the love's not coming on Just a moment like many others passed us by</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Chances are the sun will rise again and birds will fill the air once more with song But your voice will not be heard and my heart will still be hurt cause the leaver left the loser lost in time</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And chances are you'll find yourself another who gives you more than I could ever do buy you clothes and fur and take you round the world</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Its what I would have done if chances had not played an hand with me and you</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Cell Phones Selfish</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Simply speaking's so supernatural sometimes </div>
<div>
Upon the Sea of sound and fury </div>
<div>
So important, so accessible and so alive </div>
<div>
Connected to the collective, connected to the hive dancing bytes and pixels mix messages with noise voice mail misinforms us, there's conversations to avoid </div>
<div>
Cell phone selfish and day- minding foolish </div>
<div>
as organized as attached as busy keeping busy </div>
<div>
could tackle any task </div>
<div>
Waiting for someone or thing to ring yank their chains </div>
<div>
chomping at the bit are we to communicate again </div>
<div>
words never reach them from the bedside - </div>
<div>
drowned out by vibrations or beeps as loud as a shout </div>
<div>
You'regetting this </div>
<div>
and just getting that </div>
<div>
while ignored, you've forgotten </div>
<div>
the one before you sat </div>
<div>
I'll talk to you without the sky between us </div>
<div>
I'll touch your face again my dear </div>
<div>
There'll be no telephones to defeat trust </div>
<div>
When I look into your eyes </div>
<div>
We're cell phone foolish, </div>
<div>
cell phone selfish fools </div>
<div>
connected but protected </div>
<div>
from a simple human touch </div>
<div>
A face to face encounter </div>
<div>
that will always mean so much</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Angel's Heart</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Who saw you fall sweet angel </div>
<div>
when the arrow pierced your heart </div>
<div>
Launched quickly from the darkness </div>
<div>
but it surely found its mark </div>
<div>
A senseless barb of poison </div>
<div>
had been calculated there </div>
<div>
to find the source of dreams and hope </div>
<div>
that danced as light as air</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He knows too well what makes you cry </div>
<div>
and aims from his deep despair </div>
<div>
To snatch those moments from your grasp </div>
<div>
just when you start to care</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And he would sit and watch you fall </div>
<div>
not rush to catch your heart </div>
<div>
or save it from the venom </div>
<div>
which is breaking it apart.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But who wouldn't try and save your soul </div>
<div>
and see your heart released </div>
<div>
And who wouldn't cry and reach for you </div>
<div>
that saw that hurtful deed. </div>
<div>
Who saw that arrow - watched its flight </div>
<div>
and saw it piercing you </div>
<div>
could not stand idly watching - </div>
<div>
that'is something He would do.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Love lost is found </div>
<div>
not with the one who promised it was true </div>
<div>
But with another </div>
<div>
Who hearing words </div>
<div>
found no ugliness in you </div>
<div>
Instead its beauty that was found </div>
<div>
and dwell's in angel's heart </div>
<div>
so Collect your hope and dream again </div>
<div>
tomorrow a new love will start</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ancient sky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Soaring High on darkened wings through red rimmed sky at dusk </div>
<div>
Far down below are city lights where cars and strangers fuss</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A sea of life that fits so well in palm of outstretched hand </div>
<div>
But nothings changed since leaving ground no reach brings touch again</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Night comes on with grey and black deserted by the sun </div>
<div>
Gitchee Gumee looms large and cold and slivered moon is hung</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fade away to cerulean where sibling crescents glow old as time </div>
<div>
one burns one shines through flight we've come to know</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Circles upon circles A patagonian scape magical </div>
<div>
and perhaps unseen except in ancient days</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In mystic Machu Pichou Up where the world seemed small </div>
<div>
and clouded by a coca haze Were humbled by it all</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But nows the time to be alive speed makes the sunset last </div>
<div>
just chase the sky forever and this sunset shall not pass</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Email in a Bottle</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A message drifts ashore one day which some ancient rhyme had thrown away and flotsam found was read that way, as if its words had worth to say by hapless soul beachcomber who, beside the surf saw what they knew to be a text with meaning true - was quickly read then misconstrued</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The message was in point of fact a harmless jest and artifact not meant to sway or mental test but prompt a laugh within one's breast alas the plebe who found it where read words and meaning never there and changed his life upon that dare between the lines au bord du mer</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Packed up his house and left his friends in search of treasures round the bend not knowing that beneath his quest lay foundations not of stone but jest then left behind a sorry mess in vain it seemed but strange at best would find by chance a treasure chest of wisdom that escaped his grasp</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For having searched and strived for gold discovered back in days of old the treasures that he thought he sought were really what he had - then lost so back he went and claimed anew his rightful home and family too who welcomed back that sheepish plebe then tossed his rhyme back to the sea</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The moral of this simple tale is caution when receiving mail a message that would change one's life and throw to waste one's friends or wife For jetsam is not sage advice lest first its weighed then set aside to be confirmed in passing time, then careful be if one confides</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Loving Losing Leaving</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Seems you found yourself another You don't come round here no more So I'm wondering now all by myself what my future has in store</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well I remember how we used to laugh Sure we must have had good times so we won't be having fun together But could we have fun if we still tried</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Something good has gone amiss here I don't usually have self doubts and I looked around inside me wondering what its all about</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
being dumped for some one else </div>
<div>
Left behind by one you loved for more than just two arms to hold them </div>
<div>
or something else put them above * </div>
<div>
Its just the same old sad sad story, thats been told a million times </div>
<div>
Somebody's heart is overflowing </div>
<div>
While someone's heart is broke inside * </div>
<div>
don't you know that love will leave you when you thinks its here to stay </div>
<div>
Don't you think its kind of funny? </div>
<div>
Things can work out wrong that way</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I'd have rather had the love that left me </div>
<div>
then just seen them walk away </div>
<div>
And I wouldn't keep my heart safe up on the shelf </div>
<div>
Though its on the floor today</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-16152074999519986212018-08-10T19:29:00.003-04:002018-08-10T19:29:46.615-04:00Other poems<div>
A collection of other poems by Peter Karwacki</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Table of Contents</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
HandwritingHomeHenry Hyde</div>
<div>
Frost ReturnsGrains of SandThings I meant to Say</div>
<div>
Chances AreCellpnoneCellphishAncient Sky</div>
<div>
Angel's HeartDancing with YouPassionsPit</div>
<div>
Fireballs in the MirrorsLoving Losing LeavingBowl of Torment</div>
<div>
Evil ExesFinger DanceFood For Thought</div>
<div>
DevotionEven MoreI love my Friend and Wife</div>
<div>
VarietyTinnitusNight PleasuresThis Small AcreSpinning CompassHandWriting</div>
<div>
I think I'll Like YouIdeasIn the Zone</div>
<div>
The Thin Grey LineLonely But not in LoveMaple Dreams</div>
<div>
Musical SexNot FriendsPainful Voice</div>
<div>
Patrician MaxinePhotonic DreamsRain Bus</div>
<div>
Sensing LoveSafe Behind BordersRhythm Thoughts</div>
<div>
shuffle walkThree Friends and a MoonCrossing the Serbian Line</div>
<div>
This Little Acre 2Better Left UnsaidShells and shards</div>
<div>
The Company of FriendsOutlived WelcomeSnake Eyes</div>
<div>
The Finest SteelNight of FlamesTell Me</div>
<div>
Three Women on the TrailWasting TimeThe Mirror Cracked</div>
<div>
When the Talking stopsStarting from ZeroOde to spring</div>
<div>
Snow Worship</div>
<div>
Choices and ConsequencesThe Changing Face of TimeOde to a RoseDying EmbersMr. Potato Head</div>
<div>
Killing TimeSilent DeathThe Spark</div>
<div>
Summer of SusanBetween UsThree Words</div>
<div>
Lady of the LightQuantum StepsKissed by the River</div>
<div>
No No NOChildren of MercyChanged by Looking</div>
<div>
Render Unto CaesarSpaceIn Natural Light</div>
<div>
Long GoodbyesHollownessDeath by Email</div>
<div>
Twin PinesLove and LustThe Fall of Couples</div>
<div>
Snowflakes</div>
<div>
The Cold TownGatineau LoveMerry Christmas</div>
<div>
JealosySusans LifeThe Desperate River</div>
<div>
Trouble AheadThe Wellspring of Love</div>
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Knots</div>
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Time TravelingFirst StepsWhen the Lights go down</div>
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Spinning Compass</div>
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Reincarnated from themselves </div>
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To an endless pergatory of unresolve </div>
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and a meaningless search for meaning </div>
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in everything and anything </div>
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Cursed by a restless heart with vague desires </div>
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They crossed the world to find themselves alone </div>
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Searching for something but finding nothing </div>
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Because they knew not what it was they sought </div>
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Spinning wheels with spinning compass </div>
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believed something, someday would save them </div>
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Agnostic skeptics adherent to nothing </div>
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Pessimistic cynics hoping for salvation </div>
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They of little faith, waited for a big score </div>
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For someone to ask them to dance </div>
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For someone to ask for their help were too busy searching to offer it </div>
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Curious and tempted by everthing new </div>
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they were distracted and child like, so human </div>
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saw the toy then played with the box </div>
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became a Jack of all trades yet a Master of none </div>
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A professional of nothing guilded to nothing </div>
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With attention spanning the age where grass was never green enough </div>
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and life was never full enough -had a spirit that was never happy enough </div>
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Never content to just be </div>
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passed each other like grey ships in the night </div>
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Oblivious like toddlers in a sandbox </div>
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busy in parallel play while life went on around them and without them </div>
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foreign correspondents busy taking notes </div>
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reporting the story but never being part of it </div>
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scanned ahead for the lost horizon for the sacred star </div>
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to guide them home</div>
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kayaky</div>
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back to the top</div>
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This Small Acre</div>
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Did the sun ever shine so brightly on this acre - my lot in life </div>
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My eyes never saw the wonder of it all </div>
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The air was fresh and clear and thoughts were pure </div>
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And days passed in fullness and harmony with no regrets </div>
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The nights brought rest, and mornings fresh chance and hope </div>
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Laughing in those days of sunshine </div>
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We danced and our voices rang in song, </div>
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never so human were we </div>
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Just matchlights in darkness </div>
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like stars in vastness </div>
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passed the light of life and felt the heat of it </div>
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held its sum in our hands </div>
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where so many others had tried </div>
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yet could not yield to this power </div>
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had two hands and built nothing </div>
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and two legs to take them no where </div>
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with tongues what did they taste? </div>
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with their arms embraced no one </div>
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The heart was empty, </div>
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and still they loved no one.</div>
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kayaky</div>
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kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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back to the top</div>
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Night Pleasures</div>
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In deepest darkness of the night </div>
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what calls one to awaken </div>
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In nether regions stirs so slight, </div>
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their finger's path oft' taken </div>
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Warmth and comfort caress mind </div>
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leave earthly loads forsaken </div>
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where pleasures stream through probing find </div>
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remembered secrets hasten</div>
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Silken softness safe from sight </div>
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and heat releasing tension </div>
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Their rhythmic pulsing overbite </div>
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which builds before they lessen </div>
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Suddenly eyes fill with light </div>
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near higher plane's ascension </div>
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til sweeping climax fills the night </div>
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and sweet anticipation</div>
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kayaky</div>
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back to the top</div>
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Three Women on the Trail</div>
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Alone in contemplation, out on silent nighttime skiis </div>
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Absconded from the city lights in soulful country peace </div>
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Scanning dull horizons as the negatives invert </div>
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light and darkness of the snow on mute and covered earth </div>
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Seeking confirmation desperate skeptics need to see </div>
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and trying hard to understand in moments breathlessly </div>
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Waiting for the answers which through faith will never come </div>
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But finding only snowflakes and the mystery where they're from</div>
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That emptiness could never last, and nature filled the void </div>
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Thoughts rush in to overcome the restless mind with noise </div>
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Projected on a mental screen where memories can be fixed </div>
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They lacked the shapes and sounds of day, as mind is playing tricks</div>
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Sensing something stiring - what was rising in his mind </div>
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were images that weren't alive, just illusions one may find </div>
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when frightened yet absurdly hope sensations may be real </div>
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If ghosts would rise from ghostly white a truth would be revealed</div>
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listening to a pounding heart, with nothing there but hope </div>
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A disappointing vacuum since faith left him years ago </div>
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Out on skiis with ghosts along he traveled not alone </div>
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three he found upon the trail, thank God one's still at home</div>
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kayaky</div>
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Back to the top</div>
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Tinnitus</div>
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Bells are ringing, - bells I fear</div>
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are bells that only I can hear </div>
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and day or night no silence clears incessant ringing in my ears</div>
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Bells are ringing, bells I hear won't cease until my madness nears </div>
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and even then may reappear in hell and ring my bells don't care</div>
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Ringing, ringing - always there with hands on ears won't disappear </div>
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I have no way to interfere the sound that ring's not in the air</div>
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What if the tones that I perceive are not just sounds inside of me </div>
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but all the things that fill the voids </div>
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That bounce around yet make no noise?</div>
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Or maybe its the universe! Like Big Bang echoing afterwards </div>
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A zillion years in outer space now returned to haunt my inner place</div>
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So who's to say that what I hear's not really ringing everywhere </div>
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and who's to know if what I feel's not shared </div>
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with they who hear them peel</div>
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But I just want the bells to stop </div>
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There's too much ringing round the clock </div>
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with only sleep or jazz to play </div>
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to help me make them fade away.</div>
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kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to the top</div>
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Variety</div>
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Clock ticks and counterpoints, spices of life</div>
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Smooth joints and shaving knicks, peaceniks and strife </div>
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Weekends of gettaways, freedom at last </div>
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Weekdays of misery but all things must pass</div>
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Straight sons with highbrows, dullards with none </div>
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parents with children, singles and fun </div>
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Uptown and hightown, blue collar dives </div>
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Born into this world, then screwed up their lives</div>
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Give explanations, bring home the goods </div>
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send in the calvary, must 'do's and 'should's </div>
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Feelings in turmoil, passions unfurled </div>
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Headstrong while helpless, and new to the world</div>
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Years by the seaside, walks on the shore </div>
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Time in the city, busy once more </div>
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Choosing to stay put, playing the game </div>
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More things are changing than staying the same</div>
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kayaky</div>
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Back to the top</div>
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Wasting Time</div>
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Another day has come and gone </div>
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You're still not by my side </div>
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Another night has past us by </div>
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Look how we've wasted time!</div>
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Another story left untold who can I tell it to? </div>
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Another smile I'll never share </div>
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Not saved til I'm with you</div>
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Lonely hours passed silently </div>
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I'll wait to hear your voice </div>
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Stretching minutes ooze and hang </div>
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suspended by our choice</div>
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Dripping seconds down the hall </div>
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Footsteps on the stairs </div>
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Sounds of city buzzing round </div>
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remind me you're not there</div>
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Tell me this is making sense </div>
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on days I can't believe </div>
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Help me through the empty hours </div>
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so my heart won't be deceived</div>
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Sitting here I think of you </div>
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Its strange how nothing else </div>
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will come to mind with so much here </div>
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to occupy myself</div>
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kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to the top</div>
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The Mirror Cracked</div>
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A first it seemed a simple task </div>
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cut glass again was all it asked </div>
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For cutting gave no message fast </div>
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as cutting glass the mirror cracked</div>
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Not once, not twice not three times last </div>
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so many times it made him laugh </div>
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because each time he scored the glass </div>
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along the cuts the mirror cracked</div>
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Again, again the cutter passed </div>
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along the cuts - the blade perhaps </div>
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was blunt or dull but always cast </div>
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by fate that caused the mirror to crack</div>
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But fate had warned that fortune lacked </div>
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for he who found his future smashed </div>
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no images reflecting back </div>
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all luck was gone with mirror cracked</div>
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Away cruel fate stop your attack </div>
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It matters not whats on the track </div>
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To what befalls he may adapt </div>
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If forewarned by mirror cracked</div>
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Fate had blown across his path </div>
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with shattered shards from cutting glass </div>
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and seven years have come and passed </div>
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forewarned was he by mirror cracked</div>
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kayaky</div>
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kayaky</div>
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Back to the top</div>
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The Company of Friends</div>
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Down the Road the cars are lined up </div>
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Dogs are barking and the air is chilled </div>
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but up the drive there's voices rising </div>
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and in the barn, the hot tub's filled</div>
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The Lights are one - the music's pumping </div>
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So much to eat you'll want for nothing </div>
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and everywhere the glass is brimming </div>
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with beer and wine to ease your thoughts</div>
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You can dance alone or with the tribe </div>
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You don't need someone to dance beside </div>
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Cause everyone feels the beat inside </div>
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In the company of friends</div>
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Well it doesn't matter what friends you keep </div>
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Just as long as you have friends </div>
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and hope and pray the ties will bind </div>
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on through your life until the end</div>
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Just hold them close and show your love </div>
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as if on that your life depends </div>
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Cause nothing warms the soul </div>
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quite like it </div>
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when standing in the midst of friends</div>
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kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to the top</div>
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Tell Me</div>
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Will you come and meet with me underneath the moon </div>
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In darkness bathed in lightness just like we used to do </div>
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Each cycle of the planet with silver orb in sky </div>
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was something I would wait for just knowing you'd be mine</div>
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Our fingers dripped with moonlight cast through the window sill </div>
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hair filled with golden firelight a memory haunts me still </div>
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My hands felt silken smoothness and softness of your skin </div>
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Returned by sweet caresses and the burning heat within</div>
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A vision in the temple of love illuminated </div>
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Would rise before the alter as we wildly consumated </div>
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Naked passion moved and pulsed together in the night </div>
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our heaving bodies drenched with sweat which shimmered in the light</div>
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And when we both were finished minds numb and bodies spent </div>
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Lying there as hearts beat down to synchopated rest </div>
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No sweeter moment has there been as drifting off to sleep </div>
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I felt your body next to mine and love ran true and deep</div>
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Such is the rush of temporal code that flashes </div>
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as I dream an image of us locked in time </div>
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we two will only see But dreams are not enough for me - </div>
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I need to know you're there wanting all the things I do </div>
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for my dream is meant to share</div>
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Tell me now you'll meet with me when luna cycles high </div>
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And shine yourself upon me as the starlight tumbles by </div>
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The world may spin in silence but we will join and fly </div>
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Far from the terra firma our souls ignited cannot die</div>
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kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to the top</div>
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Night of Flames</div>
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They knelt at the alter of the temple of love </div>
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Humbled by the power of their moment </div>
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But driven by a passion that welled deep within It mattered not - their refusal was silent </div>
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Wide eyed and bewildered they found themselves there </div>
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And fire came upon them though their senses were clear </div>
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They wanted to be consumed by the heat that drew near </div>
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All other thoughts unclouded by fear Their need was so great and they could not say no </div>
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It was he that required it and her making it so </div>
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Now their bodies together and breathing as one </div>
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No mind for tomorrow their moment had come </div>
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No memories or plans, - no problems or cares </div>
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Just man meeting woman and love making there </div>
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And now is the secret that no one may know - </div>
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How could they have done this - where did their love go? </div>
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Were they too far from the love that they claimed that they knew </div>
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Or simply too tempted for their love to stay true? </div>
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So this is the story that plays out in time </div>
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The genie was out and the prayer beads unwind </div>
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Their life had been changing but they couldn't see </div>
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All the things that had happened were just meant to be </div>
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And questions remain with the clock ticking fast as </div>
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One night's encounter may vilify past </div>
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or life may move onward and friendship remain </div>
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leaving wet dreams and memories of their sweet night of flames </div>
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Will she be gentle - will he be insane? </div>
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The lovers that left them will see them again </div>
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And at that meeting their memories will wane </div>
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unless seeing the other stirs that which remained</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to the top</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
When Talking Stops</div>
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When the talking stops and silence roars </div>
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there's a new beginning, or a beginning of an end. </div>
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Minds communicate through deeds </div>
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then demonstrate through slamming doors, kisses, hugs </div>
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or a tremor and a shake nothing said speaks volumes</div>
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Voice arrests upon the lips caught hanging on the tongue </div>
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which waggles within its bay </div>
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Words move and twitch about shuddering like shock waves </div>
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Pain holds them knowingly for the hurt caused by their launch </div>
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would exceed the sounds , the shape of those thoughts </div>
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and the size of those dreams </div>
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But the memory of them bounces about the cranium </div>
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hitting high and low landing heavily on the heart </div>
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with a thud </div>
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Sadness comes on like anger turned inwards </div>
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Loneliness creeps in anguish </div>
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at what one should have done </div>
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but did not do!</div>
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<br /></div>
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An endless conversation followed by a moment of truth </div>
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Maniacal laughter and vacuous chatter </div>
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Fighting off silence with meaningless banter </div>
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a pregnant silence and an awkward pause </div>
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reach impossibly for the bottle of chemistry </div>
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and find another spark to hear the sound of the other's reassuring voice </div>
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and laugh or cry together again as friends.</div>
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<br /></div>
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If the world unfolds in its magnificence </div>
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words come to mind but are never spoken </div>
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Thoughts emerge though no words form </div>
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The eyes dream on without a thought ever being born </div>
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Seeds bubble up from the eternal from the hearts of all men always silent</div>
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Words may be choked back and swallowed whole </div>
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Thoughts that were never revealed seethe within </div>
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At first they won't come but then coming fast </div>
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suddenly they're not what was expected </div>
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Blazing off one's chest into another's breast </div>
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weight transferred from one's shoulders to their's will it rest </div>
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shooting darts of poison and hate </div>
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Stoccato words hitting like bullets, tearing at flesh and bone </div>
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cutting like a jagged knife blade, searing the ears and the heart too </div>
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Finally, the damage done, only bitter tears in the dead silence remain </div>
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If those words were not spoken which silence would be chosen again?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Blissful reflections and flickering candlelight with tinkling glasses </div>
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The whisper of sheets and soft kisses </div>
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After seeing the sunrise on a night of fascination </div>
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and warm glances </div>
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awakened by the realization of love </div>
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Nothing speaks volumes and they relish the moment </div>
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in each other's arms in precious silence.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Rocking on the back porch at home with no pretense </div>
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as too much is known finishing sentences before they've been sown </div>
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Their silence is golden for it's old they have grown</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to the top</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
The Finest Steel</div>
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<br /></div>
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Through the eyes into the soul a mystery lurks within </div>
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What motivates a man to do what most concede is sin </div>
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When voices call out in his brain the source of them unknown </div>
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guiding him to act upon dark messages intoned </div>
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Water dripping from his taps, a niggling pressure point </div>
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Bouncing off his beaten browe, of interest to Freud </div>
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Leading madly down a path from which there's no return </div>
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Crossed the line for ever more, redemption can't be earned </div>
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Did he fall or was he pushed? </div>
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At death we only guess </div>
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The kind of thing that shaped his mind, </div>
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and actions he expressed </div>
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What shoulders bore, what burden weighed, emotions that he'd feel </div>
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Determined that the sum of them could snap the finest steel </div>
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And what is more that no one knew his deepest inner thoughts </div>
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or if they knew discounted them </div>
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before he could be stopped </div>
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and of the ones who share the blame, </div>
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who pushed a bit to far </div>
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May never know just what they did, or even who they are! </div>
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They helped create the tortured soul </div>
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and triggered something deep </div>
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Some mother's son has killed again, </div>
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some victim's mother weeps </div>
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The strongest steel is made not borne in alchemy sublime </div>
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Forged to bend or hold an edge, resisting rust with time </div>
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Metallic blades though functional, whose metal may be fine </div>
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Will break if bent or struck too hard where hidden defects lie </div>
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Look within the eyes and see the mystery of the steel </div>
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Test its shining competence, touch lunacy's ordeal.</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Welcome Outlived</div>
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<br /></div>
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Uh oh he stayed too late Can he leave now and still save face? </div>
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This has gone for too long and his time has all run down </div>
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and he hopes he haven't caused her too much pain</div>
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Oh oh he thinks he's said too much can he just leave then still patch things up? </div>
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Well he rambled on for hours and its plain its all gone sour </div>
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Will she hate him or dismiss him when he's gone?</div>
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Oh no, he sees that he's got to go </div>
<div>
Can he return - its hard to know </div>
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Well she said he made her sick </div>
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and now its all come down to this </div>
<div>
Will she forgive him and let him back tomorrow</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Starting from Zero</div>
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<br /></div>
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From a very young age we've all heard the score </div>
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How one touches the flame then thereafter no more </div>
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But lessons in life are not so easily learned </div>
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when things turn against us not just our fingers get burned</div>
<div>
True life is a game but its governed by inches and a choice of direction or a change in conditions Sometimes a lapse or a train is derailed </div>
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Sometimes a chance where all others have failed</div>
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But starting from scratch, each one does not know </div>
<div>
where they have come from and where they will go </div>
<div>
Thats just the way of the world somehow helping us grow </div>
<div>
Still I'm outside not in, wondering why it is so</div>
<div>
From the time we are born to the day that we die </div>
<div>
We search all our lives for life's meaning and ask why </div>
<div>
And learn to be more than we thought that we could be </div>
<div>
our life then unfolds beyond what we could see </div>
<div>
Unconstrained by concerns beyond that not controlled </div>
<div>
Not waiting calmly until we grow old </div>
<div>
What else could drive us beyond that which we know?</div>
<div>
Knowledge is packaged and we pass it along </div>
<div>
though no one can get it by just being born </div>
<div>
So history repeats when we start having none </div>
<div>
Since preconceived notions are commonly wrong </div>
<div>
And we're slaves to perceptions as onwards we run. </div>
<div>
we just start off from zero and take life as it comes</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ode to Spring</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Springtime is softly melting </div>
<div>
Tulips sprout new and green and brids are gayly singing </div>
<div>
As sunlight pours through the trees</div>
<div>
Thankful the winter is over Life can begin anew </div>
<div>
and peace and brith entwine them with everything that is true</div>
<div>
Long is the time I've waited </div>
<div>
Lonely were days so blue </div>
<div>
And nights seemed cold and endless </div>
<div>
Since I've been without you</div>
<div>
But soon we'll be joined together </div>
<div>
That's what we've waited for </div>
<div>
and joy and love will keep us </div>
<div>
Happy for ever more</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Snake Eyes</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A funny thing happened on my way out of town </div>
<div>
while the truck was still loaded and my address was gone </div>
<div>
As I sat in my chair for what seemed the last time </div>
<div>
a phone call made changes to the life I designed</div>
<div>
"Come over" the voice said at the end of the line </div>
<div>
"we want you, you're needed, you'll work out just fine" </div>
<div>
But something was saying in the back of my head </div>
<div>
"Well Dilbert you keener, just look what you did!"</div>
<div>
For out there in heaven were my wife and kids </div>
<div>
expecting their father to come back again </div>
<div>
waiting together for a family trip </div>
<div>
The way things were going I was going to be sick</div>
<div>
Its life and these moments which are moments of truth </div>
<div>
when decisions you've made will haunt your life through </div>
<div>
You've been forced to decide and there's no right or wrong </div>
<div>
Just one path that you've chosen while the other one's gone</div>
<div>
You say that its easy just turn back and go well it's easy of course, </div>
<div>
until you've been caught by the flow of events and decisions </div>
<div>
that now come your way and a new set of choices that fill up your day</div>
<div>
When you start throwing dice to help you decide </div>
<div>
These tumbling prophets don't care how they fly </div>
<div>
Snake eyes, you're happy, doubles you're not and boxcars for people who throw dice a lot</div>
<div>
But life's not that simple what's more likely the case </div>
<div>
Is ten heads for ten tails no matter the place </div>
<div>
but somehow the fates that act on the coin </div>
<div>
are indifferent to the need of some poor schmuck to win </div>
<div>
While another sails through and tosses a score </div>
<div>
"That's nothing", he'll say, "I've thrown snake eyes before"</div>
<div>
But the hour glass is over and the sand has finally run </div>
<div>
And mystic forces working there have finally had their fun</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This Small Acre</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Did the sun ever shine so brightly on this acre - my lot in life </div>
<div>
My eyes never saw the wonder of it all </div>
<div>
The air was fresh and clear and thoughts were pure </div>
<div>
Days passed in fullness and harmony with no regrets </div>
<div>
The nights brought rest, and mornings fresh chance and hope </div>
<div>
Laughing in those days of sunshine </div>
<div>
We danced and our voices rang in song, </div>
<div>
never so human were we then passed the light of life </div>
<div>
and felt the heat of it held its sum in our hands </div>
<div>
and power had two hands and built something </div>
<div>
two legs and went anywhere </div>
<div>
with tongues tasted everything </div>
<div>
our arms embraced anyone </div>
<div>
Hearts never empty, </div>
<div>
Just matchlight in darkness </div>
<div>
like stars in vastness where the sun too will fade </div>
<div>
I simply woke up before my time was done and did all that which I could do</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Better Left Unsaid</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The voice arrests on lips then hangs on waggling tongue with heart felt pangs </div>
<div>
As knowledge of the hurt exceeds expansive thoughts and sounds of dreams</div>
<div>
Silence screams at those who'll listen </div>
<div>
It seeths within a mute opinion A voice may choke on words that come </div>
<div>
Still thoughts have deeds to mark their sum</div>
<div>
Nothing said speaks volumes then like slamming doors or fists of men </div>
<div>
A kiss and hug or friendly shakes </div>
<div>
Things words alone can't demonstrate</div>
<div>
But words not stopped or swallowed whole burst through one day </div>
<div>
and tear one's soul searing ears and causing pain </div>
<div>
whose tongue was tied might choose again?</div>
<div>
anguish at what should have been their anger echoes deep within </div>
<div>
for given choice and time back when </div>
<div>
would blaze without regreting them</div>
<div>
Things much better left alone </div>
<div>
If no bitter words were ever sown </div>
<div>
Between them both so much unknown fills golden silence </div>
<div>
as they've grown</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Shuffle Walk</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Shuffling down the sidewalk, I'm just looking past my feet</div>
<div>
There's no one looking at me, least not no one on this street</div>
<div>
And we're shuffling off together so our eyes will never meet</div>
<div>
On another city morning, another day out on the beat</div>
<div>
We're looking for the newsbox for the headline screaming by</div>
<div>
Searching for what matters and it soothes our lonely eyes</div>
<div>
Cause everybody's searching for something to believe</div>
<div>
and someone who will love them who won't practice to deceive</div>
<div>
But the news thats in the paper is the same as yesterday</div>
<div>
so much a comfort as a bore though much easier that way</div>
<div>
Now I'm looking for somebody whose eyes aren't at their feet</div>
<div>
Somebody who will meet my gaze and make my day complete</div>
<div>
But we're living in the city with relationships galore</div>
<div>
and another is a problem even for those wanting more.</div>
<div>
Shuffling down the sidewalk there's a bum out on the street</div>
<div>
He's begging for a living and he's begging on his knees</div>
<div>
I want to give him something but my pockets are all cleaned</div>
<div>
And I'm thinking by the grace of God that fella could be me</div>
<div>
And I'm wondering if a stranger who helped me out one day</div>
<div>
Is still in their relationship cause that's all she had to say</div>
<div>
when I asked if she would give her name in thanking her that way</div>
<div>
"It's Jennifer" she whispered, </div>
<div>
but no relationship was made</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
SHELLS and SHARDS</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
On the beach were shells and glass, flotsam and jetsam, </div>
<div>
renewed by changing tides, and mulled over a million times </div>
<div>
the sand met the sky but no waves could be seen seaching </div>
<div>
for fragments of this or cracked pieces of that </div>
<div>
lolling beachcombers trolled for traces of past greatness </div>
<div>
washed out figures stunned and suddenly alone </div>
<div>
spent days and nights searching for their beacon star </div>
<div>
on another featureless beach of shells and shards </div>
<div>
On a beach, intoning quiet prayers, and invocations of diety </div>
<div>
to raise the dead from wind swept sands or gain a pulse from severed hands </div>
<div>
Listening for silent screams where fireballs land </div>
<div>
where the beach lit up like a flare from a foundering vessel </div>
<div>
and clouds rose up and joined the sky then disipated into the ether </div>
<div>
all was revealed to those who reasoned why </div>
<div>
On a beach lies circumstantial shells and fragments, shards of a lost kingdom, </div>
<div>
and sand from a worn mountain leveled, </div>
<div>
something had swept in like the tide and left pieces </div>
<div>
of what mightily once was after declaring time enough, </div>
<div>
or time had come then transformed another constant, </div>
<div>
now fallen star into ashes under foot and dust to dust </div>
<div>
as all must die</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Three Friends and a Moon</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The first full moon of Autumn shone down upon three friends </div>
<div>
As each of them sought meaning in the moon's glow - hand in hand </div>
<div>
Looking up the clouds seemed crazed with madness from the light </div>
<div>
With super natural fortunes being conjured up that night</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For one the moon seemed angry hanging hostile in the sky </div>
<div>
Not free to shine its light restrained by clouded cage on high </div>
<div>
Try as might with golden heart the moon could not escape </div>
<div>
Its silver bedded prison held it hostage where it stayed</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The friend who gazed had seen her life with so much love to give </div>
<div>
A lonely soul in search of one to share her love and live </div>
<div>
The harder that she tried it seemed the harder had it been </div>
<div>
To find a man who'd free her from deep emptiness within</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But even as the thought had passed from mind to outer space </div>
<div>
A seed began to grow inside - her life began to change </div>
<div>
No longer would she wait for him to sweep her off her feet </div>
<div>
She'd found a way to have the son or daughter she could keep</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And so the moon would cycle through the seasons of her life </div>
<div>
inspired by the light that shone up in the sky that night</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Another saw a beacon which had called him from the sea </div>
<div>
A guiding light had broken through fulfilling destiny </div>
<div>
Two ships were lost but now were found both aided by the light </div>
<div>
Drawn safely into harbour where two hearts would soon unite</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Just like a ghostly sheperd who had called out to his flock </div>
<div>
The moon had found a way to shine on brightly through the cloud </div>
<div>
The friend had wandered all alone and sailing hopelessly </div>
<div>
But as the night was darkest then her light reached out for he</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The last dear friend saw dancers in the harvest sky that night </div>
<div>
For as the sun would court the earth it woo'd the moon in flight </div>
<div>
A jig of heaven's bodies one spins just as one flies </div>
<div>
They dance the dance of lovers which the moonlight amplifies</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But as they danced she saw herself all caught up in the glow </div>
<div>
With family, friends and children was she ever going to know </div>
<div>
Which partner that she'd end up with before the music died </div>
<div>
Knowing that the one she'd picked was no longer by her side</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But sun has earth the earth has moon whose face is son reflected </div>
<div>
The partners only seem detached together they're protected </div>
<div>
Mother's child is father's too, though that husband has no wife </div>
<div>
Will changing partners in the dance be ruinous to their life?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They gazed out at the moonlit scape minds racing with these thoughts </div>
<div>
still joined in common by the beams of silver that they crossed </div>
<div>
With hands held tight they faced the night and their futures one by one </div>
<div>
While looking at the autumn moon and shape of things to come</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Crossing the Serbian Line</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Planets hang on nothing and existence is wafer thin Life </div>
<div>
and precious essence not in space lie deep within </div>
<div>
Connecting deeds and thoughts, values, beliefs and sin linked through ether then beyond - now with friends we begin to cross chains of separation not of numbers but of mind conceiving the inconceivable, knowing the unknowable seeing the unthinkable found a heavy price to pay baby steps at first finally we've lept today teetering for years upon the brink a moment of truth has come where bombs are wreaking havok, having precisely found the line dividing evil from good upon the sands of time who will be victorious, or blasted to smithereens who will submit, die or flee in toaist simplicity No Gods about only men who finally see the planet, good and bad - but no mystery See coexistence requires effort and far greater price to pay And greater distance to go to keep the serbian line that way Battles rage in outer space or in the living room so with two be it the world, will humanity be doomed or move us from the chaos, to live finally in peace Fix the whole or blow apart, know mindless probes into our watch won't improve it mechanically History's not repeating, but our lessons reappeared rightly or wrongly, we feared the decisons to be made and paths to be taken But her mother's dead and so the baby cries. Her shoes worn in disbelief. That bullet's flight through another night without reprieve. Left the world waiting for sense to reign And feeling the hurt and seeing the pain are drawing the Serbian line Recollections of the school yard and the jungle Where reason wasn't enough, when friendship was neither wanted or accepted Where hate and darkness of the human heart and the genius of evil Was confronted to stop the bully there Not by uttering a kind word stupidly or humourously A hammer solved the problem, a walking stick or a punch in the eye drew the line, and later erased the swastika the lines of a crucifix which were the cross hairs of a site like the sites on the Serbs who like the rest of the world cry out but must look within asking not for whom the bombs blast but why again some must die</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sensing Love</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Press yourself against me I'll feel the fullness of your breasts </div>
<div>
Place your mouth upon me I'll smell the sweetness of your breath</div>
<div>
Lay your hand upon me I'll feel the heat that burns within </div>
<div>
Say you'll have me baby And I'll fall in love again</div>
<div>
Sing your song don't whisper I need to hear your voice </div>
<div>
I fell in love when first we met I had no other choice</div>
<div>
Sleep beside me woman Oh come, and be with me </div>
<div>
Together life is fine with you Its plain for all to see</div>
<div>
Kiss me with your soul and let me taste it with my mouth </div>
<div>
I want to draw you near me so erased there'll be no doubts</div>
<div>
All senses tell me you're the one </div>
<div>
The only one I'll need And forever more together </div>
<div>
Sensing Love, love endlessly</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Safe Behind Borders</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At the border they met - never dreaming they'd cross </div>
<div>
In parallel movements as their bearings were lost </div>
<div>
No hand held in her hand and no side glances cast </div>
<div>
Just romantic pilgrims consumed by their past</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
An unstable line drawn in life's shifting sand </div>
<div>
Blown off by a wind abstract lines won't withstand </div>
<div>
Loneliness clouded like storms in the East </div>
<div>
Descending upon they who expected it least</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Winnowing at first like a tropical breeze </div>
<div>
Disarming their hearts and their other beliefs </div>
<div>
Inducing, yes seducing their tentative steps </div>
<div>
So easily drawn from the paths that they'd left</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
With winds of change howling and rattling glass </div>
<div>
Both seeking shelter saw their refuge at last Where deep inner truths spun deceit in the calm Engulfed by the cosmos where their borders had gone!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So it was that the lines they had followed had wound </div>
<div>
through a Garden of EDEN to the love they had found </div>
<div>
In a moment of comfort and peace from the storm </div>
<div>
Eternally righteous, where nothing was wrong</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Does it matter at which point the border was crossed? </div>
<div>
When moonlight transformed them - from friends or betrothed </div>
<div>
Into lovers that evening - who would not have done the same </div>
<div>
if not held SAFE within the arms of that one</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But the border that kept them apart was no more </div>
<div>
It wasn't the border but safety they swore </div>
<div>
In the arms of the other no fear had emerged </div>
<div>
While treating themselves to new thoughts and each urge</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So distance between them is now border enough </div>
<div>
Until truth and its meaning intervenes from above </div>
<div>
unless meeting again with no borders to see </div>
<div>
fall safer together or apart will it be?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Because borders like fences may keep them apart </div>
<div>
like fences for neighbors they are safe for the heart </div>
<div>
As long as there's borders of safety and time </div>
<div>
Those two who were lovers love each other in kind</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Rhythm Thoughts</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Just let it pour out, yeah just let it go </div>
<div>
The words you are writing are not your's to know </div>
<div>
Your mind is working now so just let it grow </div>
<div>
cause the feelings are building now - you've got to let them flow </div>
<div>
They're bubbling up and distilling thoughts </div>
<div>
From your inner self the one you've always sought </div>
<div>
once hidden by pretense or possibly blocked </div>
<div>
so just seize the day within the time you've got </div>
<div>
So you're moving on yeah its time to blow </div>
<div>
You can make it to the station if you need to go </div>
<div>
But the trip you are taking doesn't use the road </div>
<div>
You have to travel inwards til you've reached your soul </div>
<div>
I can meet you there when you've reached the end </div>
<div>
I'm gonna see you baby when I land in heaven </div>
<div>
The words are gone but the feelings stayed </div>
<div>
Funny how the words we said weren't in the plans we made </div>
<div>
Ya ya-ya ya-ya ya ya ya ya </div>
<div>
Do do-do do-do do do do </div>
<div>
Da dada dada da da da da </div>
<div>
Bump dada badump da bump bump bump</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Rain Bus</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Rain Soaked streets and wet umbrellas </div>
<div>
On slippery sidewalks and wet hair </div>
<div>
Slimey, cheesey, smelly feet and clothing </div>
<div>
Bodies pressing up the stairs </div>
<div>
Big fat asses and skinny ones too </div>
<div>
Lining up along the aisle </div>
<div>
Try hard not to sit beside us and if they did try not to stare</div>
<div>
Its slow going on the transit </div>
<div>
So walkmen blare to make time flow </div>
<div>
That's the way it is upon the rain bus </div>
<div>
Just people trying to get home</div>
<div>
The rain bus rolls and dumps its load </div>
<div>
Hydralic doors are slamming shut </div>
<div>
Sneezing, coughing farts they leave us </div>
<div>
One last thing before they go</div>
<div>
The aisle is filled upon the rain bus </div>
<div>
The air is thick with sweat and breath </div>
<div>
The glass is fogged, so where are we </div>
<div>
Forcing eyes to gaze upon us </div>
<div>
However catatonically</div>
<div>
Fascinating cuticles </div>
<div>
Feet furiously tapping to a solo beat </div>
<div>
Dreaming of any place but on the rain bus </div>
<div>
To and fro' on their way back home</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Photonic Dreams</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What's that?! He's been dreaming again- </div>
<div>
not working with other things to do </div>
<div>
Because his mind is racing with intoxicating and enchanting thoughts of who? </div>
<div>
But the screen shining, blankly is flickering or is it winking </div>
<div>
Like a changeling temptress of whom he's been thinking </div>
<div>
Imagining it's keys pipeline to her mind - flowing and caressing a</div>
<div>
nd mystically winds his thoughts to her door </div>
<div>
That light box could be a window to her soul </div>
<div>
One great eye into which they may both fall - limitless falling </div>
<div>
Oh grant him that he shall never land </div>
<div>
How can this mechanical thing perversely link him to her? </div>
<div>
Indelibly marked by memories or are these just dreams too? </div>
<div>
He knows why, and remembers how </div>
<div>
one evening what shone was moonlight </div>
<div>
which mingled with his keyboard friend, </div>
<div>
there upon them casting shadows of light and dark, </div>
<div>
good and bad, </div>
<div>
right or wrong </div>
<div>
with winged spectral harpists whispering </div>
<div>
then urging them to go on </div>
<div>
And finally moving into the light which beckoned - </div>
<div>
then surrounded them with the warm glow of friends - </div>
<div>
faces gone but hearts remaining </div>
<div>
a blissful union there - for ever more - until the end </div>
<div>
His machine has become a mental cue, </div>
<div>
and a strange one at that </div>
<div>
conjuring up such recollections by the video screen </div>
<div>
he sits at </div>
<div>
Drawn beyond the light now </div>
<div>
into the darkness of Her room </div>
<div>
washed with her scent upon the sheets </div>
<div>
which further sealed the night </div>
<div>
And there, coupled but not by the photonic chains of mail </div>
<div>
that never stop </div>
<div>
It seems, there was only their own essence </div>
<div>
as they sailed away into his dreams</div>
<div>
kayaky</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Back to the top</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Patricia Maxine</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-7070787067667509882018-08-10T19:22:00.002-04:002018-08-11T11:17:00.149-04:00Kayaking PoetryPoems by Peter Karwacki Other Poems by kayak<br />
kayaky<br />
A novel: Zen and the Art of Whitewater Kayaking<br />
<br />
The Bad SwimKayak Heaven in the Drain to HellExorcised Demons at Hell's GateLes Amis de Hydro QuebecThe White and the Light This Old BoatSeven SistersUnthinkable on the RougeMy HollywoodTabaretKipawa RallySpin CityJust InstinctAnother NOLAC RallyUnhappy HollowThe DropRiver MomentsThe SurfThe Strange OdessyBrotherhood of the RiverAt First LightSunset PaddleThe UniversityThe Silver SeaMove To the LightPassionate PaddleBreath of WhitewaterThe Presence of MindPaddle HaikuBirth of a RiverAngel's KissCrash and BurnShare the WealthBig JoeRiver EyesFriends in rough water<br />
<br />
<br />
The Bad Swim<br />
<br />
I'm in my boat, a trusty craft, shines yellow with the sun<br />
Surely its an awesome day for another river run<br />
The cloudless sky is fresh and clear, the birds call from the trees<br />
I hear their cry and sense the wind, there's something in the breeze<br />
<br />
My gear's all checked, the helmet's on as paddle starts to flick<br />
Paddling up the eddy line I pass through current quick<br />
And waves are crashing on the deck, I fight to stay on top<br />
The rapid's sound is deafening as I peel behind a rock<br />
<br />
So nothing's really happening but there's tension in the air<br />
Just sitting in a kayak in an eddy<br />
over where the water pauses briefly with horizon line in sight<br />
where yonder past its shadow is the river splashing white<br />
<br />
At last the moment has arrived as I've paddled to the brink<br />
I hear the roaring of the maw, the pouring of the drink<br />
I'm headed for the action, where my path has told me - go then<br />
hurtling forward there I see the crashing smashing flow<br />
<br />
And now the pace accelerates in fact all time will stop<br />
When dealing with a carnal force, and elemental toss<br />
The sky is gone, my eyes are white, I'm gripped by God himself<br />
Where all the world converges in the river's vengence dealt<br />
<br />
I'm bracing right and leaning left then buffed both to and fro<br />
There's water, water everywhere in this huge hydraulic hole<br />
The lights are out, the paddle's gone, the skirt<br />
no longer seals the water from the inside of my sunken tumbling keel<br />
<br />
My luck is up, I'm out of breath, its time for me to go<br />
To pull the plug, and swim for it, with hell to pay, I know<br />
It's not to far to swim to shore, if shore would just stay put<br />
But shore's not where it should have been, the last time that I looked<br />
<br />
A safety vest at times like these is blessed curse disguised<br />
Reversing current pulls me back despite my many tries<br />
At once I'm up and breathing air both flushed and sucked and then<br />
Into the maw that put me here it pulls me down again<br />
<br />
Strength is gone, I can't go on in drowning hole machine<br />
I have to take the damn thing off to exit from the scene<br />
And with one final gasp of air I head to Davey Jone's And crawl along the bottom<br />
past recirculating zones<br />
<br />
The time is now, swim on somehow<br />
to surface where I see as catching breath<br />
my kayak has recircled back to me<br />
Somehow the Gods are smiling and I hang on for dear life<br />
There would be no tomorrow without deathgrip hand like vice<br />
<br />
Down, Down I float I'm floating down the current floats me down<br />
Away, away to rapid's end where others have me found<br />
who pull me from the worst of swims a paddler's ever seen<br />
Collect the boat and paddle too then exhausted let me be<br />
<br />
I'm sitting near my kayak but too stunned to speak or move<br />
Too numb to even think a thought about the life I choose<br />
Til finally I will find a way and get back in that yellow boat<br />
And paddle on to who knows where, or why or when I'll float<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
back to the top<br />
<br />
Kayak Heaven in the Drain to Hell<br />
<br />
Flowing waxen pools of water boiling as they travel onward<br />
silent power seething deeply within current as it keeps me<br />
Reflections blurred, though momentary, broken by the surface carry blue of sky and white of sun mirrored as they fall upon this sea of change<br />
and river wild which never sleeps or is docile<br />
<br />
Paddle left as moving right then counter next in endless fight with river magic down below<br />
and mother nature as she flows<br />
a slippery, glassy, glossy slick is water yet looks none of it It speaks of oil and rolls and boils<br />
as if a fire burned under lit<br />
As if the very bowels of hell were giving birth with every swell<br />
And unseen demons surely dwelled within each churning swirling well<br />
<br />
Then shocked at once as looking skyward circles funnel whirling downward<br />
Satanic hands have seized my grabloop twirling fast on current's lasso<br />
So prayers go up dispatched to Jove to free me from this watery cove<br />
Hoping that the water's pull is measured by my kayak's hull I brace upon cyclonic waves to right my boat and somehow save<br />
This paddler from a sudden flip in dark descending blackened slip<br />
<br />
But spinning enders now I play as suction fails to hold my weight And shooting upward bow's away! I hoot and howl as if to say "Catch me death - but not this way! I may be yours but not today!"<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
back to the top<br />
<br />
Exorcised Demons at Hell's Gate<br />
<br />
The last time that I saw the Gates That Hell was misery<br />
But floating down just yesterday Found peace inside of me<br />
The waves I saw were not so high The current not so strong<br />
Even though my boat was tossed and my wetsuit was still on<br />
<br />
I had struggled with those demons and they hid behind the rocks<br />
They didn't just get craftier Because I knew the plot<br />
The time had come to rearrange The images I hold I don't see things now the way I did<br />
Perhaps I just got old.<br />
<br />
These are not the gates I knew was my experience down the drain?<br />
Time has changed the way I feel! I can't take that run again<br />
I've paddled through the gates before and it doesn't look the same<br />
The water isn't different So I know it's me that's changed<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
back to the top<br />
<br />
Move To the Light<br />
<br />
Surfing, and blasting, and spinning we play<br />
As sunlight is sparkling on water in May<br />
where tumbling in bubbles we kayak away<br />
rolling in rapids where most never stay<br />
Glimpses of downstream may cause some a fright<br />
When suddenly flipping, lose colours from sight<br />
Like daylight in darkness where everything's white<br />
just light within blueness, like night only white<br />
moving through whiteness we reach for the light<br />
We're reaching, and stretching then stabbing with might<br />
tucked in the kayak and bracing in tight<br />
Timing the movements in rhythm so slight<br />
We break through the surface to colours so bright<br />
The sweet air's above us as river delights<br />
White upon white with our paddles we fight<br />
Must move it, move through it, and up to the light<br />
moving to brightness we reach through the white<br />
To break through the surface and colours, all right<br />
We're breathing in sweet air to river's delights<br />
Whitewater frolic which many may like<br />
It's whiteness in blueness and blueness in white<br />
In water on water, adding brightness to life<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Passionate Paddle<br />
<br />
A day like no other is soaked by sunlight and high spring water<br />
With a sky rich and blue, intoxicatingly drenched by the rapid's spray<br />
Rivers run within river, they come and go, this way and that<br />
with chaotic precision in this natural wonderland I marvel at<br />
warmed by the deep solar heat of a rocky cragg<br />
apple in hand, thoughts in my head, bliss in my soul<br />
Treated to exotic chemicals induced by light, wind and sounds<br />
found only here<br />
Shouts of pure joy from paddlers there<br />
and the roar of water meeting rock and water fills the air<br />
I'm at peace restored by faith in this place,<br />
swaying and bobbing on a restless eddy or<br />
riding impossibly on a wave,<br />
vibrating my bones with its pure velocity<br />
the stationary focus of a wild parabola,<br />
then unceremoniously tossed by a rogue rivlet<br />
as if to say, nature's balance does not include kayaks<br />
<br />
Up on lunch stop's crests then down into their troughs<br />
I've looked upstream to take a mental snapshot<br />
in that vast second the river poured a lake<br />
relentlessly in my direction,<br />
while in my mouth there's barely a swallow<br />
Colloseum awaits my quickening pulse<br />
while drawing me in like a magnet<br />
Funneling inwards, waves crashing on either side<br />
of its glassy tongue luring me into the gapping maw<br />
lying just out of sight<br />
But away I go to left or right, high and dry,<br />
unseduced until the next time I try<br />
To the gawkers I wave , while tearing through the boiling eddyline<br />
eyes are wide and I can feel the ender coming on<br />
all at once<br />
Raising my paddle triumphantly,<br />
no longer sitting in my boat but standing in it<br />
letting go a whoop of pure ecstasy<br />
Then suddenly, upset, I'm as one with the fish,<br />
looking for the sun reaching for the light,<br />
ripping through the surface to the sweet river air<br />
To colours somehow more bright<br />
in happiness they flare<br />
So twirl the blades as they dip and clip the water<br />
in restless succession<br />
Giving back to the river only tiny whirls in return<br />
for hours of bracing and rolling on its waves<br />
Just wavelets and weaker currents greet the end of the day<br />
the river is quiet and lazy from the way that we've played<br />
Floating down in late afternoon, there's barely a stroke required<br />
I'll turn and look back reflecting on that most<br />
passionate paddle.<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
A Breath of Whitewater<br />
<br />
After zipping and popping and snapping my way<br />
into rubber and nylon and plastic today<br />
I slide into current and head out to play<br />
in water that’s foaming and rushing away<br />
And furiously pulling and stabbing my paddle<br />
and leaning to current it seems not to matter<br />
That entering and bracing will keep me aloft<br />
in a torrent of essence that tosses me off<br />
And looking up calmly around me are bubbles<br />
I reach toward sunlight and safety from troubles<br />
And catching my breath again there I go madly<br />
setting up sweeping and breath again gladly<br />
However it looks to you I’m out here smiling and crashing<br />
and flashing without even trying<br />
And forces of Nature are pleasantly plying<br />
to knock me down, pop me up, flush away dying<br />
But even that fear of it wont keep me from staying<br />
on the river and water and current I play in<br />
Because splashing in water just seems purifying<br />
and the more that I do it the more I keep trying<br />
To find a new balance with the world that I live in<br />
and paddling on whitewater is my way of giving<br />
A new way of seeing our place on this earth -<br />
its hard and its cruel but for what it is worth<br />
A playground for people who having the means<br />
can live life more fully while keeping it clean<br />
And besides its while paddling away in the sun<br />
I’m alive in the wind and the froth having fun<br />
No stopping or thinking - my soul’s simple fodder<br />
just tempting the fates and first breath of whitewater<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
The University<br />
<br />
University<br />
A river's running in the wild to challenge man or beast<br />
Its currents sweeping rocks and trees<br />
cascades through canyon's deep<br />
a place where few will ever go - liquid sililoquy<br />
as its flowing to Superior as the University<br />
<br />
Its pristine water's cold and clear, its verdant banks are treed<br />
From black spruce forest watershed begins this restless stream<br />
gathering brooks and mossy creeks as winter turns to spring<br />
Until as one they surge beyond Algoma's peaceful wing<br />
<br />
And men have died upon the Dog, the name the natives gave<br />
somewhere in a rapid's shoal, slipped to their watery grave<br />
There's little wonder life could end far from civility<br />
beneath the raging torrents of the University<br />
<br />
Ojibway spirts of the Lake called Gitchee Gummie speak<br />
beckoning to those who search with deep abiding need<br />
To caste away in plastic boats, it's challenge that they seek<br />
Set out to paddle source to mouth each spring eternally<br />
<br />
Men who know what value lies in silence of the north<br />
Who've sat for hours upon its shores have felt the water's force<br />
Would never question hardships faced, no other place they'd be<br />
No other current tests their nerve like University's<br />
<br />
From urban caves and suburbs come the paddlers one by one<br />
Their boats are packed with just enough til paddling trip is done<br />
From Broken Bridge on Paint Lake road ten miles from nothing meet<br />
the brother's of the river who prepare to launch their fleet<br />
<br />
Poggies for their fingertips, and faded PFD's<br />
Neoprene to keep them warm, and booties for their feet<br />
And silent prayers to guide them on beyond that which they see<br />
They slip into the calm black pools of university<br />
<br />
With helmets snapped they steel themselves for rapids lie ahead<br />
they know the falls and waves have left some other paddlers dead<br />
But running deep and silent here one asks "how can this be?<br />
that Hell is breaking loose somewhere and just ahead me"<br />
<br />
By noon the pace is picking up, whitewater finally<br />
Screaming round a rocky bend, strains through an evergreen<br />
Wrong place, wrong time, a tree like that could kill quite possibly<br />
They've sipped the flowing flavour of the University<br />
<br />
All paddlers move in step this time ferry in synchrony<br />
Ominously quiet now they breath less easily<br />
Rapid after rapids rush in class both two and three<br />
And never once a place to stop, they flush continuously<br />
<br />
With every league the route exceeds each run that came before<br />
requiring faith and skill they must boat scout them more and more<br />
Eddy hopping side to side slide down stream nervously<br />
They'll find no other way to run the University<br />
<br />
Across the sky the sun has set and light draws from the trees<br />
with darkness closing fast they port to find a moment's peace<br />
To gather strength and rest their heads they lay their weary bones<br />
camped out along the river's edge among its rocks and stones<br />
<br />
and while they sleep per chance to dream the rapid's roar is clear<br />
They're crashing through the waves and surf, the ones they lie so near<br />
So muscles twitch and flex all night and cramp reflexively<br />
A paddler has but little rest on University<br />
<br />
Another day now deep within mad Dog's sanctity<br />
The flow has changed to waterfalls that drop precipitously<br />
Narrowed by a canyon's walls the route is never clean<br />
just as soon as one is run another falls is seen<br />
<br />
until at last they reach the peak at heights of Dennison<br />
Which cascades down three hundred feet a kayak's never run<br />
Its here the birches are immense, five men go round a tree<br />
Their isolation grew them thus on University<br />
<br />
Shouldered boats must somehow pass<br />
along this rocky shore to reach the base of Dennison<br />
and paddle on once more<br />
along the cliffs a rope is slung left hanging years ago<br />
Each one is left to weigh its risks, the strength of it's unknown<br />
<br />
halfway down that desperate slope with choice a luxury<br />
To right the falls, to left a cliff around them's all they see<br />
The steepest drop they'd ever climb, on shores so slippery<br />
There is no quick and easy route on University<br />
<br />
Each step is measured one by one until they reached the end<br />
where rushing rapids surge once more and circle round a bend<br />
swept along they're looking back and hope to rediscover the beauty of the place they'd been - its rugged restless wonder<br />
<br />
The mind is seized upon the sight of water flowing free<br />
No turbines whirring underground to make electricity<br />
but deep within the stomach's pit, the temptation's there to see<br />
one day they'll want to stop the flow of university<br />
<br />
Superior lies a mile ahead, along the banks they wander<br />
just paddle strokes to keep them straight as river flow meanders<br />
The Lake's great depth that never warms has chilled the flow beneath them<br />
the air that held the scent of moss and trees no longer greets them<br />
<br />
Twenty one kilometers by Gitchee Gummee Sea<br />
Northeaster's blowing off the shore, wave motion constantly<br />
Pebble strewn and sandy beach grace Great Lake majesty<br />
Reward enough for those who've come to University<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Sunset Paddle<br />
<br />
A solemn end to worldly frames concludes another day<br />
Upon a river moment as the light begins to fade<br />
Sitting on the water, kayak paddle in his hand<br />
Watching for the sun's retreat with shadows crossing land<br />
<br />
A waxing moon and solo star had joined the evening sky<br />
with reflections of the city streets that pulsed and hummed nearby<br />
Catching gulls that swooped and climbed with light upon their wings<br />
In magical perfection which the river's sunset brings<br />
<br />
Darkness hadn't fallen, but it was getting hard to see<br />
held there by the moment and the stillness he believed<br />
Were mystic paddlers watching as the sun began to set<br />
echoing encouragement for feats undone as yet<br />
<br />
Echoes from inside his soul that cried out desperately<br />
Don't sun go down before its time, don't leave him mournfully<br />
while restless river rolled along he could not wait for dawn<br />
His life was overflowing though around him all was calm<br />
<br />
Another day, perhaps his last had come and gone again<br />
There was no way to keep the past, no way to stop the pain<br />
Of separation from the thing that had always been the way<br />
Along the edge of water where he passed so many days<br />
<br />
Years had passed him in his boat, now change was in the air<br />
A sunset like no other was to make him more aware<br />
Of the restless river rolling, and the traffic on the street<br />
of time enough for living and for paddling while he breathed<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
The Shining Silver Sea<br />
<br />
I cupped my hands and reached towards the silent silver sea<br />
which shimmered in the distance with a crystal clarity<br />
And pureness flowed and sparkled there for a moment in my soul<br />
Temiscamingue transformed itself while shining in its shoals<br />
<br />
The Spirit of the Lake had spoke and told me so much more<br />
Than words alone could capture or that I had seen before<br />
familiarity had bred contempt or was it nonchalance?<br />
But Temiscamingue had caught my eye and broken long silence<br />
<br />
"You who pass this way must take this world but not for granted!<br />
A precious gift imparts to you - upon this earthly canvas<br />
As painted by the ONE's great hand its breadth you now receive"<br />
Temiscamingue cupped dazzling transformed by sunlit dreams<br />
<br />
But one could never really see this work until that moment<br />
Capturing not this sparkling truth, or imagining its spirit<br />
No fractels spinning off in space in great beyond contain it<br />
or forces that had led them there in time enough to claim it<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
1999 a strange Odessy<br />
<br />
The more things change, the way we see them stays the same<br />
But things aren't happening normally in amusementville<br />
Somewhere battle supervisors plan a recap<br />
Officials of Bubbleh confer under the gull and cross paddles resources have been diverted from the great Boat Hysteria<br />
Fists slam mightily on tables, somebody ought to be whacked with a paddle<br />
The Rec resistence has assembled and there's no lack of amiability<br />
At the height of the dam are lined Kamakazis Bonzai, bonzai - divebombing one after the other<br />
In this crazy world they live better and tell the tale<br />
Further on down, troops muster swinging to their right flank<br />
Hitting the beach for their first look at the action amateurs and empressarios are, one by one, crashing and burning<br />
Water does not douse their flames Beside clutters of stones lay gaunt washed out arborial skeletons Big white storm troopers march down stream, with white eyes, and white helmets<br />
There's the roar of Cromanian Zealots ringing in the ears<br />
Overhead a squint eyed assault by solar blistex defying gravity, tank units are geting sucked counter current<br />
Two piece phasors are locked and loaded, ready to stab the foaming beast<br />
To no effect - it laughs them off<br />
One personnel carrier overturns amidst all of this<br />
With one finger on the eject, one hand on a prayer book The thing rights itself to the cheers of fanatics on the shore<br />
War correspondents cross notes unable to believe their own eyes<br />
All the while lovely senioritas line the rocks in their finest bikinis<br />
Someone will be lucky tonight<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Brotherhood of the River<br />
<br />
The river bred a family with the passing of the hours<br />
Time we've spent together testing mental strength and powers<br />
Since finding meaning in the days when paddling was unknown<br />
The sky now paints fresh colours - ones I'd have never seen alone<br />
We are brothers of the river and we hear the river's call<br />
The roaring of the rapids on the rivers great and small<br />
traveled roads to find them, scanned from bridges rocks and trees<br />
Uncommon lust for life and love and curiousity<br />
All from different places found the river made us free<br />
swept us to the future where together we will be<br />
Paddling joined us brothers since we've shared the waters force<br />
Now the waves will take us higher than we've ever been before<br />
I've seen your spirits soaring and I've joined you on that plane<br />
Skirted danger by a hair then laughed like we're insane<br />
times when one was shaken - missed a roll or eddy turn<br />
popping up between the waves saw confidence and nerve<br />
clinging to a grab loop like a hand reached out from far<br />
could not help but love you,<br />
river brother that you are<br />
You knew me on the water told me not to fear or hide<br />
but challenge limits that I'd set which kept me on the side<br />
"You can't let fear defeat you when its in you to succeed<br />
Just do the things you know you can and on the waves you'll be<br />
" I've seen your wide eyed wonder when the others seemed so calm<br />
and triumphed on the water needing naught from anyone<br />
I saw you making clutch rolls with a smile that warmed my heart<br />
It made me think of times back when I had my water start<br />
So we are brothers on the river fate has brought us to the flow<br />
we never question what we do and words could never show<br />
The miles we traveled shuttle, butts were square when cash was low<br />
The bars we closed, and quiet times when friendships could still grow<br />
Uncommon ties that bind us at the cost of liquid gold<br />
paddling in the brotherhood , whitewater tales we've told<br />
Seen the heron swoop and dive, the loons have tricked us too<br />
along the shores of Kipawa and Gaulley River Cruise<br />
Surfing on the glassy waves our boats have crossed and danced<br />
Moving with the river's pulse, Stroked water with our hands<br />
Do you recall Big Sandy when we shot the waterfall?<br />
Thrilled at running Pillow Rock, as paddlers loved them all<br />
Now days are getting longer and the sunlight's warmth is felt<br />
I'll be waiting for you brothers as the ice begins to melt<br />
The feelings shared have been intense, they bubble from the core<br />
The sport that means so much to us, will takes us out once more<br />
the river's calling brother can you hear it call your name<br />
come and join me paddlers we'll be paddling it again<br />
When the river's tide is running high and current's flow is wild<br />
we'll be crashing through the surf as one with joy and peace inside<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
At First Light<br />
<br />
A gaunt grey moon is swimming in a humid summer sky<br />
The river rushes wildly as we listen to it rise<br />
The night is young, the scene is full, enchanting to our eyes<br />
As warmed by crackling sauna heat - into the lake I dive<br />
<br />
Nylon zippers zipping on the curious tented flies<br />
We're giddy running from the dock and naked as we try<br />
to skip across the sumptuous grasssy carpet where we'll lie<br />
a night of dreams and soulful peace at that instant realize<br />
into this verdant garden of the spirit we've arrived<br />
<br />
Where tips of waves leap, froth and crash intimidatingly<br />
come shafts of light that pour across cascading imagery<br />
The misty river's calling as the sun begins to creep<br />
Above the pines that kept us through the sunrise - so we'd sleep<br />
Through sun lit dew which washes every morning ankle deep<br />
To Christmas children waking - pushing bedrolls from their feet<br />
Who catch first glimpse of heaven that we'd come so far to see<br />
Stirring deep emotions and whitewater energy<br />
<br />
Wonder at the river god that made a place so fine<br />
who brings us here to breath it in then return again in time<br />
Happy faces smiling back are nodding knowingly<br />
Hoping that its power will be as kind while paddling<br />
They'll reach the source and contemplate a run of everything<br />
Connecting souls to water, down the river of their dreams<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
The Drop (ode to Tae)<br />
<br />
On rocky steps, beside the flow while overlooking drops<br />
below one deep in contemplation may attempt its rapids any way<br />
<br />
An age old question crosses mind when concentration's left to find<br />
the crashing waves and rocks untold<br />
You're safer here, but should you go?<br />
<br />
It's never wise to back away from risk or fear that's overlaid<br />
ones skills and talents any day or let them wrestle choices made<br />
<br />
But crazy whirls of thoughts and doubts and visions one could do without<br />
bar victory over countless holes or hazaards there as yet unknown<br />
<br />
A simpler choice could not be found except the answer's so profound<br />
because it lies beneath the skin and cockels of the heart within<br />
<br />
It matters not what others say<br />
You'd live to try another day<br />
And would you ever live it down<br />
when others did but didn't drown<br />
<br />
Or if lesser fate was in the cards<br />
Just broken bones or paddle shards<br />
The choice remains a choice that's marred<br />
To paddle now or swallow hard.<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
River Moments<br />
<br />
Oh I have paddled In the stillness of morning<br />
When the only sounds that mattered were ones I alone had made<br />
Those of water dripping lightly on the mirrored flow beneath me<br />
or the distant rush of rapids rising slowly up to greet me<br />
One auspicious break of day<br />
<br />
In the clean air of that dawning saw the tree lined shores reflecting<br />
with each gentle paddle prodding and my kayak bow there nodding<br />
calmly on its metronomic way<br />
Followed changing multi-coloured paths that beckoned<br />
while inviting me to the edge of restless water where I had come to play<br />
one misty morning moment on a river far away<br />
<br />
And I have paddled In the full great glare of daylight<br />
With crashing waves splashing and dancing too loud to think or speak<br />
Once my fateful choice was made<br />
submerged with the turbulent flow with no hope of calm<br />
beyond its frantic frothing chaos which vyed to overcome me<br />
Upside wrong while struggling to the air<br />
faced another drop hammered and pegged by unfriendly rocks<br />
then summarily spat out at the bottom of that troubled sea of white<br />
contemptuously ejected from the mele<br />
some worse for wear and tear<br />
not welcomed to return no matter what day<br />
one nasty God forsaken moment on a rapid best left far away<br />
<br />
Still I want to paddle<br />
how long I've felt that way<br />
through the fullness of time From alpha to omega<br />
on a river run its course<br />
Bingo through its eddies and spiral down its canyons<br />
Rise up upon the waves to hear their lusty roar<br />
down and over each glassy face<br />
feeling the river stream through my hands<br />
the pulse of earth, wind and fire together<br />
and though only for an instant<br />
absorb its pure aquarian energy<br />
at that most glorious river moment<br />
and endless summer day<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
The Surf<br />
<br />
Look ahead squint eyed at the whiteness<br />
at the sureal surf<br />
Beautiful but unkind<br />
It will embroil you<br />
unconcerned by your need for oxygen<br />
no regard for the way your limbs work<br />
while attached<br />
Its beautiful, white and growing<br />
Surging and exploding<br />
On the street<br />
throught the gates<br />
up the walk<br />
on the doorstep<br />
suddenly in the living room<br />
with its feet on the sofa<br />
Kicking you around<br />
in a warm and swirling etheral womb<br />
from which you are constantly reborn<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Just Another NOLAC Rally<br />
<br />
Down the trail a jeep goes by,<br />
descending where we used to try<br />
to carry up our heavy loads, 'cause that was the only way<br />
<br />
And everywhere a tent was pitched,<br />
where people drink and talked a bit<br />
They flatten grass lying over it, and wonder at it all<br />
<br />
Does the day grow near when we won't see,<br />
the mightly Kipawa?<br />
Whose waters running free and strong<br />
sing us a restless song.<br />
So gather round your boats and gear,<br />
and join your arms, fight back your fears<br />
That's the reason we are here, now is the time<br />
to save the Kipawa.<br />
<br />
Another time, another place,<br />
where others failed to stop the pace of change<br />
across the countryside 'cause Hydro needed power.<br />
Were other rivers not so fine?<br />
Did others simply fail to find<br />
the mystic values in the wild<br />
and let the dams be built<br />
<br />
Would you tell your children you stood by<br />
and let them steal this place?<br />
True nothing ever stays the same -<br />
but she'll just be gone, without a trace!<br />
So gather round your boats and gear<br />
and lock your arms cause we are here<br />
What we do now will last for years,<br />
this is the time, to save the Kipawa.<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Just instinct<br />
<br />
I packed my gear, pretrip last night<br />
Or was it in my sleep<br />
Items churning in my mind<br />
from checklists that I keep<br />
Memories made when boats were long<br />
and wetsuits were still blue<br />
when all the paddling in the world<br />
was paddling that I knew<br />
<br />
My shoreworn boots and rock scuffed lid<br />
Bore scars of yesterday<br />
River damaged through the years<br />
then proudly left that way<br />
Sourvenirs of river trips<br />
Each storied rip and tear<br />
Transport me back in time and place<br />
as if I was still there<br />
<br />
Then something distant beckons me<br />
An elemental force<br />
Encircles me and draws my soul<br />
to water as it pours<br />
where paddle felt so good in hand<br />
light water rushes by<br />
Just slipping through a tranquil swift,<br />
the current tells me why<br />
<br />
I must go out to boat again<br />
I feel it in my bones<br />
My north is calling south again<br />
and fish are swimming home<br />
I need to hear the surf again<br />
then sleep under its spell<br />
Where dreaming of the days long past<br />
will once again be well<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Unhappy Hollow<br />
<br />
Slide off the wave into a hole still upright on one side<br />
Surging water in and down trapped by an upstream tide<br />
Unhappy hollow water grave or buoyant parking lot<br />
For hapless those who may check in, and later check out not<br />
<br />
Flipping round around they go, with whiteness in their eyes<br />
Gasping, bracing, paddles low and seized there realized<br />
Another time, another place away they'd rather be<br />
Not in this unhappy hollow, or ice river after freeze<br />
<br />
How long the restless villain will toss them once again<br />
Then back up where they started just more tired from the strain<br />
While down below the water flows as fleeing from the hole<br />
its secret exit’s hidden, one deep and green and gold<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Tabaret<br />
<br />
The sky is vast, my blood runs cold, so who will speak for me?<br />
with skin like rock my soul is old, and ancient as the sea<br />
From whence I came the age knows not and source is lost in time<br />
And where I go no end is clear except as ocean's brine<br />
Memories lost pour ever more a wish - a breath exspired<br />
Clock ticks rumbling with the stones within my depths inspired<br />
Measured for a concrete suit and kilojoules of light<br />
overlooked by countless those who'd rather see than fight<br />
Sold for wages and of sin by disembodied drones<br />
Nameless those triumphant boffs of steel and glass -atone!<br />
Could ride my back, explore my ways consume what I have sown<br />
But take not blood away from me from which their life has grown<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Kipawa Rally<br />
<br />
with apologies to gordon...<br />
The Kipawa River Rally<br />
There was a time in west quebec when the Rally did not run<br />
When the main and river cabins stood alone against the sun<br />
And long before the road came and long before the wheels<br />
Were the white pine forests, then some mormons ...and a deal<br />
NOLAC had its beginnings, when no rapids could be found<br />
They searched the province over with the best back on their ground<br />
They yaked upon the Kipawa and they climbed that killer hill<br />
then built the rally, the trail and websites to this day are running still<br />
And when the paddlers fancy was turning in the spring<br />
The boaters that grew restless for to hear the rapids sing<br />
When banks are overflowing with the runoff of the day<br />
Decided to share the gold with others and as a bonus ...make 'em pay...<br />
For they Looked in the future and what did they see<br />
They saw first class river pouring down to the sea<br />
Paddling was good there on Sorenson's land<br />
All up from US and into their hands<br />
Look away said they go north to this mighty land<br />
Leave the Ottawa and the rafting jams<br />
Bring in the boaters and fix up the trails<br />
We've gotta send down their boats and then tell the tale<br />
Open 'er dam let the lifeblood flow<br />
Gotta get off the lakes cause they''re moving too slow<br />
Bring in the boaters and upgrade the trails<br />
We've got to send down the boats and then drink some ale<br />
Open 'er dam let the lifeblood flow<br />
Gotta get off the lake cause its moving too slow<br />
Get off the lake cause its movin' too slow...<br />
Behind the old sauna the sun is declinin'<br />
The beer cans are poppin at the close of the day<br />
Somewhere in Laniel the town folk are sleeping<br />
But not at the ralley ... or river cabin anyway<br />
We are the NOLACies who work upon the rally<br />
Floggin our t-shirts in the bright mornin' sun<br />
Runnin' on love and sending bad emails<br />
Bustin' our butts till the rally is done<br />
We are the NOLACies who work upon the rally<br />
Floggin our shirts til the boxes are done<br />
Some wake up late and some fail to paddle<br />
but doing it all so the river will run<br />
So take off from work late although its a pain<br />
Break down a few times while driving insane<br />
Up from the cities all the way to Mont Laurier<br />
burn out the rubber and spending our pay<br />
Drivin' 'em in and carrying down<br />
Away to the cabins then back into the town<br />
Fifteen dollars per day for a place for your head<br />
A drink to the river then sleep like the dead<br />
<br />
The Kipawa rally is still fun, though the work is never done<br />
On the river bank we stand, against Hydros back room plans<br />
Those are plans we want to spoil, with our teardrops...and our toil...<br />
<br />
For there There was a time in west quebec when the Rally did not run<br />
When the lodge and river cabin stood alone against the sun<br />
And long before the road came and long before the wheels<br />
Were the white pine forests, then some mormons and a deal<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Spin City (from surf city jan and dean)<br />
<br />
I bought a second hand kayak and they call it a Honcho – (Spin city here I come)<br />
Though its not very cherry its still got me feeling macho –(Spin city here I come)<br />
It don’t have much leg room, or a place to stow<br />
But that boat still gets me where I wanna go…<br />
<br />
Cause I’m going to spin city gonna pull some blunts<br />
Yes I’m going to spin city gonna spin some stunts<br />
Well I’m going to spin city though theres lack of funds<br />
I’ll still go to spin city then go drink some suds<br />
<br />
Two boats for every guy (gal)!<br />
<br />
Now when I’m sitting in the eddy and I’m waiting in the line up (Spin city here I come)<br />
And its hot and its hazy and the boaters’ getting’ fed up (Spin city here I come)<br />
I’m not gonna blow my cool - I’m ready to go<br />
And if it gets too damned sticky then just go for a roll!<br />
<br />
Cause I’m going to spin city gonna have some fun<br />
Yes I’m going to spin city gonna get some sun<br />
Well I’m going to spin city - not the only one<br />
I’ll still go to spin city ‘least if my car still runs<br />
<br />
Two boats for every guy (gal)!<br />
<br />
Now that boat seems to vibrate when I’m crossing the eddy line - (Spin city here I come)<br />
Then my Honcho just starts spinning like its freestyle time -(Spin city here I come)<br />
I don’t do a thing cause it just finds me the groove<br />
Like a hotrodding engine that’s a revving to move<br />
<br />
Cause I’m going to spin city just like every one<br />
Yes I’m going to spin city though I’m out of funds<br />
Well I’m going to spin city - cause its lots of fun<br />
I’ll still go to spin city til my days are done<br />
<br />
Two boats for every guy (gal)! Oh yeah!<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Seven sisters<br />
<br />
Seven sisters settling scores some seven days a week<br />
Six-packed paddlers pushing limits finding what they seek<br />
<br />
An intrepid plunge instead of fun to tumble in the maw<br />
Would wish their yaks had made it back to safety on the sod<br />
<br />
Washed and rinsed then blow dried too<br />
exchanging end for end<br />
flotsam washed from empty hulls ejected swimmers spent<br />
<br />
Miss the sisters miss the thrill but paddle yet again<br />
don't chase a boat that's missing floats like saner paddlers choose<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
My Hollywood<br />
<br />
Sift through chaos in the run seek order in the waves<br />
wrapped in safety on the ground where best laid plans are made<br />
<br />
Yes boats will float and paddles stick<br />
old rubber skirts will hold so clutching to the cedar boughs<br />
one's spirit grows more bold<br />
<br />
The lusty roar makes words fall dull<br />
Encouraged - slip away<br />
Yet one more cheer to stoke the fire<br />
Off rocks into the fray<br />
<br />
Thus forewarned the path was clear<br />
ahead you saw the white<br />
all in seconds possible on course now set you fight<br />
<br />
As clear the route was once above<br />
From womb to current strong<br />
like obstacles that once were plain<br />
like eddy now long gone<br />
<br />
For pondering paddling in the troughs,<br />
those downs are deep and grave<br />
as committed now to meet that rush<br />
once uttered words are prayed<br />
<br />
Keep left, keep left, keep left, you say<br />
through each successive train<br />
Away from Davey Jones grasp<br />
where likely you would stay<br />
<br />
Til bracing on them one by one<br />
Fulfilled a blissful day<br />
The spirits rose on every crest<br />
and slipped down every wave<br />
<br />
Until at last my Hollywood<br />
in rapture blue and white<br />
The route 'twas not as planned it seems<br />
Though once ended, felt so right<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Les Amis D'Hydro<br />
<br />
Pressure points - niggling little pressure points Like grains of sand, barbed seeds, or slivered wood painful shards of metal and glass laid under skin tiny, invisible to the eye but painful nonetheless, sharp and thin blister underfoot, sliver under nails, between toes, popcorn kernels caught in the craw or gourd they can't go by unnoticed stopping the trek, ending the summit climb diverting courses laid, breaking the machine banishing rest like disturbing dreams catch dozy inattention with insolence and impertinence Serving reminders between the eyes or shoulder blades with cricks, or pokes though hard one may try they cling resiliently until excoriation, and excision like David's stone released they fly<br />
<br />
Just words, and random flow of thought, settling like dust on the credenza A thin layer everywhere, bugs the tranquility of a place or state of mind Like a gaggling collection of insignificance Just one man, with ideas, or objections settling in for a long seige with a bowl of rice and a plan obstinently clinging to life and the face of the earth like The Butterfly in a tree or a rash that won't go away Like life itself will find a way Until we give up or they<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
The Unthinkable on the Rouge River<br />
<br />
Adapted from an Editorial by Fred Ryan that appeared in the West Quebec Post on April 27, 2001 called "The unthinkable along highway 148"<br />
<br />
The highways we've traveled, the rivers we've paddled<br />
Rewarding or dull as they move us and flow<br />
Take us to places , unique hidden spaces<br />
we've shared on these rivers where ever we go<br />
<br />
Weekends of getaways, rain or sunshine<br />
The run of the river's the river we've tried<br />
When simply the paddling makes running them fine<br />
no matter direction, no matter how high<br />
<br />
But paddling one weekend, the river gave signs<br />
with wind in the trees and the sun in the sky<br />
By unsettled clouds much too deep for the spring<br />
like unnerving news - discouraging<br />
<br />
News of the changes, some well underway<br />
Then tossed by the current or social malaise<br />
Shortage of power, and sell offs and strife<br />
Forces at work with no control in our lives<br />
Resources exploited, bulk water exported<br />
too much for one paddler, too much to decide<br />
<br />
Drifting on down and burdened by thoughts<br />
If no one could solve this, then maybe so what?<br />
And thought the unthinkable; "so what if is"<br />
That rivers are dammed up and trees cease to live<br />
<br />
Like hearing the bell toll and knowing its true<br />
The future was certain for the bell tolled for you<br />
The river lamented the future I'd seen<br />
was dim as the light clouded day that had been<br />
<br />
This path that was paddled an unpleasant sort<br />
The week was too long and the weekend too short<br />
Met those, all in passing, who were working or not,<br />
Who dreamed both of nightmares or visions they sought<br />
Except for those feelings - like the ones I had thought.<br />
<br />
Then flying like crazy passed over a flock,<br />
dark geese flew near water gusting winds could not stop<br />
And driven by wildness, their wildness intact<br />
locked in their small hearts long forged in the past<br />
Fiercly determined, to follow the wind<br />
Caused a welling of tears in the man - though within<br />
<br />
Whose spirit had fallen as the sun had just set<br />
shamed by those flyers, head on hands had just wept<br />
The highways he'd traveled, the rivers he'd paddled<br />
Rewarding or dull as they move on and flow<br />
Take us to places , unique hidden spaces<br />
Days upon weekends, in directions we know<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Adapted from an Editorial by Fred Ryan that appeared in the West Quebec Post on April 27, 2001<br />
<br />
The white and the light<br />
<br />
From the deep and the dark<br />
A space where sound does not exist<br />
Where the heart is felt but never heard<br />
We are called to witness the coming of the light<br />
The light of day, the light of God and the light of life<br />
a gift and wish inspired<br />
Reached out in infinite rays<br />
from a beginning so impossible<br />
to conclude beyond thought and belief<br />
An event borne of inspiration<br />
both magical and implausible<br />
revealed in prophesy<br />
then realized one moment in time<br />
with the promise of a future<br />
where life and death converge<br />
The moment of light is a moment of white<br />
of such fright yet with the hope of life<br />
The moment of truth<br />
wrested from emptiness<br />
on wings of design<br />
not once in that instant<br />
but three at a time<br />
near grey rocks and water<br />
and sun kissed besides<br />
Yet arms raised high in victory<br />
knew brief reward<br />
they emptied quickly<br />
with the flight of life from fright<br />
leaving flickering knowlege<br />
of the white and the light<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
This Old Boat<br />
<br />
This old boat, just like my shoes,<br />
one hates to let them go<br />
I've worn it now so long my friends<br />
it seats the ass it knows<br />
As if the rubber padding there<br />
had burst forth from the womb<br />
And found a final resting place<br />
midst plastic foam and glue<br />
But floating down to horseshoe<br />
in the eddy yesterday<br />
The playboats that encircled<br />
seemed like river rats that way<br />
Or tugboats circling round the queen,<br />
in harbour paralyzed<br />
by length and height and bouyancy<br />
enscounced there by her size<br />
Even I who loved her<br />
so consigned it to the heap,<br />
along the cedared backyard fence<br />
and camoflaged by trees<br />
The yellow sheen was mottled<br />
by the scourge of UVlight<br />
Rocks had scuffed the bottom<br />
and the nose was scraped preflight<br />
Long ago the jam cleat saved<br />
both paddles, boats and lives<br />
Grab loops lifted soggy souls<br />
from rapids many times<br />
Until one day, the need arose<br />
to raise a C note - prayed<br />
that others seeing value there<br />
would succumb to a trade<br />
That mighty craft that paddled down<br />
the Gauley, Cheat and Rouge<br />
Would find its final resting place<br />
with children on the loose<br />
Tarped in summer hideaways<br />
emerging with the sun<br />
with daisy stroked amusement<br />
and some children's weekend fun<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Paddle Haiku<br />
<br />
The Rapid is long<br />
but waves and holes encountered<br />
may make it longer<br />
<br />
Upstream and Downstream<br />
Water flowing to and fro<br />
Yet it still makes sense<br />
<br />
Plunge over the falls true -<br />
you may die yet live on<br />
somewhat famously<br />
<br />
Sealed in rubber suits<br />
The water is cold, no doubt<br />
but we are still warm<br />
<br />
The deep hydraulic<br />
holds us fast, for evermore<br />
There is no escape<br />
<br />
The kayak is small<br />
The big waves crash terribly<br />
Somehow its still fun<br />
<br />
Square butts, and low cash<br />
The river rolls on and on<br />
with paddlers or not<br />
<br />
A clean and green tongue<br />
comfort amidst whitewater<br />
its still no eddy<br />
<br />
We hold the paddle<br />
a powerful shield protects<br />
from the raging beast<br />
<br />
Blue and whitewater<br />
Join in a dance of sunlight<br />
praise be to rivers<br />
<br />
Borne of ice and snow<br />
Flowing free through the ages<br />
Long live Kipawa<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
The birth of a River<br />
<br />
The snow capped peaks<br />
rising above the horizon<br />
reflect the early morning sun<br />
telling a story of birth if one cares to listen<br />
They speak of the great cycle of life<br />
and the source of life which is water.<br />
Once it gave rise to life itself<br />
in the murky depths<br />
somewhere a complicated life giving cocktail<br />
of protein elements,<br />
chains of molecules formed.<br />
Simple peptides at first,<br />
mindless and driven by simple attraction<br />
and an uncanny symmetry.<br />
The frozen ice of those mountains<br />
had existed for who knows how long.<br />
Not as ice,<br />
perhaps once as the elixir of life<br />
borne of the desert<br />
some where in a balmy oasis.<br />
As the precious drops of rain<br />
feed a farmer's field<br />
or the lurid sweat borne<br />
of an uncontrollable heat<br />
under the fullest of moons.<br />
The sun, and overseer was to start a new dance<br />
one snow flake and ice crystal at a time.<br />
Warmed and liquified those begin<br />
on a path of least resistance.<br />
Drawn down by the invisible forces<br />
that power the very universe that is the mother of all.<br />
The path of the many<br />
through the history of time.<br />
Sliding down sleepy brethren, still in deep freeze,<br />
off icycle tips and off into the abyss,<br />
or soaked into a stone for another 1000 years<br />
Some would perish immediately, sublimated into the ether.<br />
Vanishing with barely a lifespan.<br />
Many more, however, would live to brighter days,<br />
faster days, heady and powerful days<br />
upon a tortuous journey to the sea,<br />
to once again join with their brethren.<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
The presence of Mind<br />
<br />
Its not easy being calm when the world turns upside down<br />
And a whirlpool tries to swallow boat and all<br />
Far from pleasant when you're blind, sucked asunder there besides<br />
and you're certain that you're heading for the falls<br />
<br />
One is sure to have their doubts as they're getting knocked about<br />
and the paddle's getting ripped from either side<br />
Times like these you must decide if every trick that you've just tried<br />
only leads you where you bloody started from<br />
<br />
If they give it one more try - to roll up in do or die<br />
Could it be they'd end up swimming in that tide still<br />
when running out of time - let alone their air supply<br />
its so hard to find the presence of one's mind<br />
<br />
somewhere flushed along the way, memories of another day<br />
maybe something once they'd said or seen or did<br />
Never thought much of it then - still when it comes to mind again<br />
Tricks remembered come in handy, and one's bound to use them gladly<br />
when they stop to use the presence of their mind<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Angel's Kiss<br />
<br />
A feast for the eyes on the fifth of July<br />
when the Ottawa's big, fat and new<br />
where the yakers and rafts cascade cataracts<br />
one by one to the white from the blue<br />
<br />
Hot days of summmer they're lining the rocks<br />
Slurping on something that's green<br />
Or out on the water, and ripping off spins submersed then dispatched but more clean<br />
<br />
And down in the spray where they're shredding waves<br />
Decked out in their colours so mean<br />
The time just flies by like tossed paddles on high<br />
when the hotdogs are trying to be seen<br />
<br />
There's something transcending a day without ending<br />
Spent close to the cool water's edge<br />
Where spirits are rising while kayaks are diving<br />
And squirting or blunting instead<br />
<br />
So give me the Ottawa, on days just like these<br />
To share with the world who have missed<br />
They'll no doubt believe once they've finally have seen<br />
What's been placed on the earth Angel Kissed.<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Crash and Burn<br />
<br />
Rescues by the numbers Who could argue with that<br />
<br />
But the river served us up for far too long and now that well’s gone dry<br />
Out of the nowhere rose excitement and change of scene<br />
out of control at last when things aren't happening normally and things are not going well<br />
<br />
Up and down - the river ran its smooth lines the day long<br />
With no one to notice them , so we were not concerned<br />
<br />
While he sniffed flowers like Ferdinand<br />
Air borne paddles touched the sky at button hook,<br />
he woke up next while upside down just far enough from land<br />
The time had come - his time to swim<br />
-the only way he learned this was just his time it seems - his time to crash and burn<br />
<br />
First we need more time to think, but those thoughts would never come<br />
you took the right most fork back then ,when last we took this run things seemed so casual -<br />
I took the left for fun who ever notices when all is well –<br />
another rockin’ good time But that's when the holes upset you -<br />
and you have a serious swim<br />
No rope to save us or net to catch you<br />
It was just your time to crash and burn<br />
<br />
First his thoughts were to paddle by<br />
then maybe he could surf something side ways had pushed him off the line<br />
Time past quickly in the white which was the state he was in<br />
No one there to blame, - no promises broken.<br />
It just wasn't his day He just had to crash and burn<br />
<br />
That's when the waves upset him - and he had a serious swim<br />
No throw ropes to save him no net to string and catch you<br />
Time to face the music Time to crash and burn<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Share the Wealth<br />
<br />
Around the world, on flowing waters <br />
as mountain streams or lazy floaters<br />
paddlers crave their common markers<br />
from vantage points of wishful gawkers<br />
<br />
Many heads have turned on bridges<br />
snapped around for fleeting glimpses<br />
as cockiness within them winces<br />
with waterfalls and killer sieves<br />
<br />
Lucky is the one that knows<br />
the entrances where magic goes<br />
round corners or in distance flows<br />
their hidden waves or undertows<br />
their rocks and eddies and their holes<br />
<br />
Around the world with corners vast<br />
with sweeping vistas'd - mountain glass<br />
where what is known may never pass<br />
the urge to go and paddle lasts<br />
if they could know - but who to ask?<br />
<br />
A resevoir of paddling lore,<br />
can empty waters evermore<br />
with bouyant craft or floating corps<br />
and treasure them where content pours<br />
a sacred trust they can't ignore<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
Friends in Rough Water<br />
<br />
The day was tough, his lines were bad<br />
and confidence was shaken<br />
He had to wince and close his eyes<br />
at all the risks he'd taken<br />
so thoughts can come, impure to some<br />
that he would never make it<br />
And getting back into his boat?<br />
was more likely just to say 'quit'<br />
Eying up another stroll along the rocky shoreline<br />
boat water logged with soggy shoes<br />
bruised ego by the bad times<br />
But at his side with steely eyes found friends were always helping<br />
rafting down the Norman's run<br />
On either side, they're laughing<br />
And halfway through the biggest waves<br />
He found himself relaxing<br />
Theres nothing quite like friends like that<br />
Rough water, friends, he basked in<br />
Who reassured his water start<br />
and did without his asking<br />
<br />
kayaky<br />
<br />
Back to the top<br />
<br />
River Eyes<br />
<br />
Feel the wind, 'whyned', canyon bound and leave without a trace<br />
like mystic fingers tantalize so awestruck in this place<br />
<br />
Saturated senses seep from tree lined verdant lands<br />
as swirling rapid waters touch the paddles in our hands<br />
<br />
From hours along the water's edge when skies can look so blue<br />
where cloudiness accentuates the colours and their hue<br />
<br />
Even as the gapping maw can frighten yet excite<br />
the surge that comes from being there can change the blue to white<br />
<br />
My voice calls out, and falls away the spray has muted cries<br />
but not the pounding of your heart whose joy is not disguised<br />
<br />
I call your name and realize your hearts not with the sky<br />
or purple haze and mistiness the river's in your eyes<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Big Joe</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Theres a little surfing spot down by the bird sanctuary<br />
The waves are big and they're fat and its a little bit hairy<br />
You've got to line up your boat with some trees - then say go ...<br />
and hope the line you just took doesn't treat you unfairly</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Well there's boils in the eddies, and current is pushin'<br />
You've got to hustle to the middle or its surf you'be missin'<br />
Cause the mighty St. Lawrence won't be giving much thought<br />
To your little kayak or any fresh air that you've got.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Surf across that wave and spin away all summer day its the latest craze</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yeah the riots are there cause they're all Montrealese<br />
They make those stinkin play boaters seem so hot so balsey<br />
There's another one surfing the wave on the left while<br />
They go out two at a time to the pit and the pile ...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you're all done surfin you can blow off the wave train<br />
hit the river sized eddy and start all over again<br />
Theres a platform on the river and they're getting some sun<br />
cause after playing all day they're plain tuckered from fun</div>
Surf across that wave and spin and play all summer day its the latest craze<br />
Gone surfin' at Big Joe- Just Spinnin' in Joe's hole<br />
No cares for tomorrow -Gone surfin' at Big Joe<br />
<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry.html#kayaky">kayaky</a><br />
<a href="http://www3.sympatico.ca/kayaky/poetry.html#kayaky">Back to the top</a><br />
<br />Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-7202143659030797582018-03-10T15:48:00.001-05:002018-03-10T15:54:41.710-05:00Comment on proposed changes to environmental assessment<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">The Kipawa River, recently displayed on the 150th anniversary ten was under threat of diversion by Hydro Quebec.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleTallBody; font-size: 17px;" />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">Do the proposed changes mitigate the problems identified in that case?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleTallBody; font-size: 17px;" />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">If not, rethink the legislation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleTallBody; font-size: 17px;" />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">More information on request.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleTallBody; font-size: 17px;" />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">Peter Karwacki</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;"><a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://0/1" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824); color: black;" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0/1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="address" x-apple-data-detectors="true">80 Ontario</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;"><a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://0/1" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824); color: black;" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0/1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="address" x-apple-data-detectors="true">Ottawa, Ontario, K1K 1K9</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;"><a dir="ltr" href="tel:613-304-5844" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824); color: black;" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0/2" x-apple-data-detectors-type="telephone" x-apple-data-detectors="true">613-304-5844</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleTallBody; font-size: 17px;" />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px; font-weight: normal;"></span></span></h3>
<h3 style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; box-sizing: border-box; color: inherit; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; line-height: 1.1; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px; text-align: left;">
<span class="ucase" style="box-sizing: border-box; text-transform: uppercase;">STANDING COMMITTEE ON ENVIRONMENT AND SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT INVITES PUBLIC TO SUBMIT WRITTEN BRIEFS ON BILL C-69</span></h3>
</center>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
Ottawa, March 09, 2018 - </div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
The House of Commons Standing Committee on Environment and Sustainable Development invites the public to submit written briefs for the Committee’s upcoming study on Bill C-69, An Act to enact the Impact Assessment Act and the Canadian Energy Regulator Act, to amend the Navigation Protection Act and to make consequential amendments to other Acts.</div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
The Committee will be extending invitations to selected individuals and groups to appear in the near future. </div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
In addition, the Committee is interested in receiving <b style="box-sizing: border-box;">written submissions</b> from Canadians as part of its study. These submissions will be translated, circulated to Committee members and posted on the Committee’s website.</div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
As such, the Committee encourages interested individuals and groups to submit written briefs <b style="box-sizing: border-box;"><u style="box-sizing: border-box;">as soon as possible</u></b>.</div>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">The Committee recommends that submissions be</span><b style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: arial; font-size: 14.666666984558105px;"> no more than 10 pages </b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">in length and should be sent to: </span><a href="mailto:envi@parl.gc.ca" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #427a26; font-family: arial; font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">envi@parl.gc.ca</a>*******Have a Nice Day**********Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-92131581497857924692018-02-20T09:19:00.000-05:002018-02-20T09:24:49.969-05:00West Coast Environmental Association Reviews Proposed Navigable Waters Protection Acthttps://www.wcel.org/blog/problems-new-canadian-navigable-waters-act<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.wcel.org/blog/problems-new-canadian-navigable-waters-act">Go here.https://www.wcel.org/blog/problems-new-canadian-navigable-waters-act</a><br />
<br />
A good read and synopsis.<br />
<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: calluna-sans, sans-serif; font-size: 23px;">“<i>The federal government promised Canadians that the lost protections for navigable waters would be restored. In taking an approach which focuses narrowly on navigation (when Canadian environmental laws prior to 2012 required a broader environmental approach), and by allowing developers or the Minister (depending on the circumstances) to bypass the requirements for a transparent approval process, the </i></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: calluna-sans, sans-serif; font-size: 23px;"><i>Canadian Navigable Waters Act</i></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: calluna-sans, sans-serif; font-size: 23px;"><i> fails to deliver on this promise. </i>“</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: calluna-sans, sans-serif; font-size: 23px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: calluna-sans, sans-serif; font-size: 23px;">Andrew Gage</span><br />
<br />
**********Have a Nice Day**********Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-56175657704896737392018-01-27T21:02:00.003-05:002018-01-27T21:02:34.207-05:00Time to renominates Hermann and Christa Kerckhoff <a href="http://allaboutwhitewater.blogspot.ca/2013/04/time-to-nominate-herman-and-christa.html">http://allaboutwhitewater.blogspot.ca/2013/04/time-to-nominate-herman-and-christa.html</a><br />
<br />
<br />
**********Have a Nice Day**********Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-24667447162559005592017-04-08T18:33:00.002-04:002017-04-08T18:33:57.325-04:00Kipawa and money together at last*Bank of Canada puts Grand Chute on the Kipawa River on the ten dollar bill for Canada's 150th.<br />
<br />
http://www.bankofcanada.ca/banknotes/banknote150/<br />
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Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-31918316308445857462016-03-31T14:21:00.002-04:002016-03-31T14:21:33.898-04:00Peer Metrics - Looking for organizations and firms who are interested in forming peer groups.First reach out to me using the contact form on <a href="http://peermetrics.ca/">PeerMetrics.ca</a><br />
<br />
Read through my background and decide if you are ready to move forward. <a href="http://kayak9.wix.com/peterkarwacki">http://kayak9.wix.com/peterkarwacki</a><br />
<br />
Lets get together and see how your organization can use the power of the group to increase revenues, decrease costs or improve services to your members or clients.<br />
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Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-58337860918032307152015-10-16T15:52:00.002-04:002015-10-16T15:53:21.770-04:00Who is David Schindler and what does he know anyway?<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">[CEAA-LCÉE] The Harper Decade: The Erosion of Environmental Protection and Public Environmental Information</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">Read, or listen to, this devastating commentary from the great David Schindler.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><a href="http://www.theharperdecade.com/blog/2015/4/18/the-erosion-of-environmental-protection-and-public-environmental-information">http://www.theharperdecade.com/blog/2015/4/18/the-erosion-of-environmental-protection-and-public-environmental-information</a></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">THE HARPER DECADE</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">CANADA HAS CHANGED</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">The Erosion of Environmental Protection and Public Environmental Information</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Geneva;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">MAY 07, 2015 BY DAVID SCHINDLER</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Geneva; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Geneva; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">The Navigable Waters Protection Act</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Geneva; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Geneva; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">The <b>Navigable Waters Protection Act</b> was weakened via its inclusion in an omnibus bill. It became the <b>Navigation Protection Act</b>, removing provisions that would have challenged or delayed the construction of pipelines, bridges, dams and other major projects in order to protect navigation. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Geneva; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Geneva; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">These same provisions were historically important to protecting aquatic ecosystems from harm. Most of the discussion in parliamentary committee regarding this topic was about expediting industrial development, not about protecting the environment, navigation, or the rights of indigenous people potentially affected by the changes.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Geneva; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">The Harper Government has used omnibus bills to reduce protection of Canadian wildlife, plants, and their habitats, including marine habitats, by eliminating consultation with experts and concerned stakeholders and putting decision-making in the hands of politicians and their appointees. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Geneva; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">These changes have been made to ease the way for industrial development, and have the additional benefit of reducing citizen involvement and understanding in the process.</span>Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5303905534918099850.post-11278825828476548782015-08-13T11:58:00.000-04:002015-08-13T11:58:20.662-04:00Whitewater Ontario's Minden is being pressed to divert for powerHere is the ongoing discussion:<br />
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Whitewater Ontario wants a hydroelectric diversion put in!!!!! Email them how you feel about this. Let's Dam WO, AND NOT THE GULL RIVER.<br />
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Jeff McColl, Jon Ward and 2 others like this.<br />
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Wayne Donison Not a true statement.<br />
12 hrs<br />
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Billy Harris What should it say?<br />
10 hrs<br />
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Robert Koloshuk It's a true statement unless the advocacy committee presents a resounding 'NO' at the board meeting. So if it's not a true statement than prove it Wayne!<br />
1 · 11 hrs<br />
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Billy Harris Hold on Wayne. Do you want this project to go through?<br />
11 hrs<br />
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Billy Harris I don't care what carrot or sweetener a corporation slathered on this it's a corp wanting to put a hydro electric project in and kayakers say no to that. Leave the gull b!<br />
11 hrs<br />
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Kevin Maggs Ok, So Wayne is on the Volunteer W/O Board. Wayne who was part of the fight to save the Kipawa, Ran the Rally at least one year. Was part of that big rally in Ottawa to fight against the dam that threatened the entire Kipawa watershed. You know the one that Esprit organized? Maybe you missed it. Has attended more HOHW events than you have Billy and he lives more than 45 minutes away. As part of W/O has the negotiated paddler access to various Marmora area rivers. Was the main one responsible for saving access to the lower Irvine with a Landowner agreement. Before being on W/O spent hours on a committee to remove a dam on the Grand, then hours fighting for access to the Grand when a developer wanted to close access. I don't know but I kind of think if he is on the case, things might not be so dire. It's not like he'd rather be paddling than spending hours in meetings about yet another dam or access issue. Personally I don't care about the Gull, It's kind of an artificial river so I'll leave it up to people to fight it out but Wayne's credentials are solid.<br />
5 · 3 hrs<br />
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Billy Harris Wayne's credentials are solid, so who is on side for this project?<br />
2 hrs<br />
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Gary George I don't have any concerns about Wayne Donison or his credibility. My trust in the WO process doesn't go much beyond that. I have been the well intended hard working unassailable tireless guy deflecting dissent and encouraging people and advocating on behalf of the two worlds. I know how that often turns out.<br />
2 · 2 hrs<br />
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Wayne Donison Simple statement, as I have said to many people many times. The committee position on behalf of paddlers has always been that we prefer NO diversion...of course. The concern was the risk of losing paddler access below Whitehorse Falls...since we don't own that land. The survey did not present this position as clearly as I would have liked.<br />
1 · 2 hrs<br />
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Robert Koloshuk I agree with Kevin that Wayne's track record is exceptional. But there's this conversation that Wayne is stuck in the middle of, and it's a conversation between people who are totally misguided and people who care about the river and realize that it's totally ridiculous to sign MOU1. The fight should be for access if there is a fight at all, based on what we know about OPGC and the project. I'm sorry, but lots of great paddlers do care about the Gull (a lot), and nobody has presented a case where signing OPGC's MOU1 can be worth it, even if there were a fight for access, which quite frankly, its fairly obvious there won't be...<br />
2 hrs<br />
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Gary George So here we have the Countries most famous and celebrated Slalom course, the second most favoured reliable whitewater in the Province, the home of several World Cup competitions and the recent venue of the Pan Am`s and we`re concerned that a small hydro operator will withdraw access if we don`t play ball and give up water and functionality?<br />
1 · 2 hrs · Edited<br />
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Robert Koloshuk That's right Gary... It's ludicrous... And several people within the WO advocacy committee have indicated that they would prefer if the river were diverted to keep the levels lower for them sometimes, and because OPGC will pay off WO to the tune of maybe $10,000 per annum.....<br />
2 hrs<br />
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Gary George WO has always operated in a money vaccum, proposals have been made in the past to re-finance or sell the Preserve in order to fulfill budget needs. The budget needs of WO are primarily slalom based. As always it appears the Preserve will be a target to fund the rest of the organization. Recreational paddlers are the primary users of the Gull and the Preserve these days as has been the case for a couple decades now. The occasional usage by the slalom world is so rare and relatively inconsequential by comparison yet the river and the Preserve itself will be sacrificed to support that faction of WO. This is a glaring example of the diametrically opposing needs of the organization and the fatal flaw that keeps WO forever floundering. There is no logical reason what so ever that Advocacy should have to be negotiating among paddlers to find consensus on river protection, especially this river. Yet here is poor Wayne having to defend an asinine intent to paddlers when his energy would be better spent fending off what can only be regarded as an assault an insult and a renege of agreements of long ago. In my opinion WO is to concerned about political correctness and warm fuzzy bullshit.<br />
2 hrs<br />
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Billy Harris Who are the people saying yes to this diversion program?<br />
2 hrs<br />
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Gary George I always preferred the Gull in the lower levels rather than at higher water however I cannot imagine advocating for something so precedent setting and obviously negative just so my time on the river would be more pleasant for me. If this goes thru it will embolden the hydro proponents, expect more of the same on other favourites. It amazes me that anyone could take a hands off viewpoint on this just because they don't paddle at the Gull.<br />
1 · 1 hr<br />
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Kevin Maggs Perhaps someone could explain the down side to me. After reading the proposal it seems that right now the gull is a dam controlled river. If W/O wants reliable water for an event, they pay for it. Quite a bit of money from the looks of things to Parks for moving logs. Is it possible that W/O in exchange for their support could have negotiated releases that wouldn't cost? What are paddlers losing here? How many times per year does it run big? Is it fun at those levels? If the argument ends up being a dam controlled river that costs vs a dam controlled river that doesn't cost for releases and we still get regular releases but miss some high flow is that an issue? If you look at the W/O page they are begging for volunteers to run the Preserve. If paddlers love this preserve so much then why isn't it a paid position with high enough camping fees to cover costs?<br />
1 hr<br />
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Robert Koloshuk The Parks Canada dam will still be there, and if the diversion is built they will have to negotiate more water from two counterparties instead of just one. The only thing they will 'get for free' is less water, a giant construction site for 2 years, a giant concrete tailrace and powerhouse, an underground diversion channel right under the campground, and a dry river outside of the 'normal paddling season'. WO has a unique power to stop the project because of land ownership, but the other stakeholders (fishermen, photographers, etc.) will also be getting shafted. A lot of paddlers are local or have cottages in the area, and they don't use the preserve lands, they just show up on river-right to paddle for the day, which might be why the campground doesn't generate much in camping fees per person on the river boating.....<br />
1 hr<br />
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Robert Koloshuk Here is a copy of the unbiased survey that got killed by the committee:The case for signing:<br />
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1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There is a potential to create access issues if MOU 1 is not signed, but these are as yet unverifiable issues.<br />
2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If MOU 1 is signed there is a limited opportunity to have some control over river flows in cases where it is deemed preferential for the flows to be lower.<br />
3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>During spring flows the diversion would make the river level lower, and this may be preferential to some paddlers.<br />
4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There is a potential to enhance the paddling experience for some intermediate paddlers by ensuring that levels more frequently suit the needs of those people who are not comfortable with the seasonal flows when they are higher than 8.3.<br />
5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Lower flows could be ordered at no cost for special events, and higher flows could be ordered dependent on both Parks Canada’s and OPGC’s cooperation. Additional costs will likely still apply to ordering higher flows from Parks Canada.<br />
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The case for not signing:<br />
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1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There is no indication that OPGC would enact any form of retribution for failing to sign MOU 1. To date, all communications with OPGC indicate that they are perfectly willing to accept a no to signing MOU 1, and they will simply allow the status quo on the river to be maintained. Legally OPGC may be in a position to act vindictively, but it is not standard practice for corporations to expose themselves to unnecessary lawsuits, and therefore there is likely no disadvantage to not signing MOU 1, other than the potential lost opportunity with regards to having lower flows when desirable.<br />
2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The diversion of flow to generate power will remove flow from the kayaking section, and thereby undermine the paddling experience throughout the entire year.<br />
3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If MOU 1 is signed then WO will lose its special bargaining position with respect to its land ownership and its unique ability to protect the interests of other user groups (in much the same way that the DND was able to influence the Xeneca project to the benefit of Petawawa paddlers). WO will be signing away the ability to assist other stakeholders if it agrees to cooperate with OP as per the terms of MOU1.Peter Karwackihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04122070054615699852noreply@blogger.com1