Greetings,
Gentle Reader,
To add to
the confusion of the time travel that has characterized this blog, this final
entry may ultimately introduce the book, Sojourn
to Saguenay, which could augment your coffee table collection of Row, Canada! (2011), Locked Up, Locked Down
(2008), and The Big Row (2006).
My appetite to leave behind an old-timey print edition of this summer’s row is simply
a manifestation of my Techno-Peasant temperament, so don’t order one up if you
don’t want to. No pressure. But if you’re in the Inner Circle and have just
received your signed copy in the mail or under your windshield wiper….well,
enjoy!
My ten weeks
of “summer enrichment and professional development” have been dominated and
defined by only thirteen days of intense experience. While I might include my
tepid preparation or this subsequent flurry of writing activity as a part of
the rowing experience, in truth there is nothing quite like being underway in
the boat, focused on the water, one’s body, and the unfolding day, stroke by
stroke. I now pause more than a few times each day with a flashback of my time on
the Richelieu or Lake Champlain, of the magnificent waters of the St Lawrence,
or of coming to grips with nature and my own limits along the coast of the
mountainous Charlevoix region.
If I print
this all up in a bound volume, I’ll have to wrestle with the title. After all,
I never made it to Saguenay by water; the boat was strapped to the roof of the
Mini when Peg and I viewed the mouth of the river. Perhaps it’ll have to be Sojourn Towards Saguenay or even Sojourn to Saguenay, Part I ….if I
intend to complete the trip someday.
The good
news is that I was able to cover about 425 miles during the thirteen days of
this adventure.... good work, perhaps, for a largely chair-bound fellow (Ouch!
That’s too close to “large chair-bound fellow”) on the cusp of his 63rd birthday.
The reality is that I had intended to proceed 100 miles further but didn’t… and
therein lies my lesson for the summer.
In
retrospect, I’m fortunate to have experienced the severity of adversity that I
faced in July. More than two thousand miles had led to overconfidence, a
too-flip and casual attitude about “learning along the way” and accommodating
trials as they emerged, a relaxed fatalism regarding what might be around the
next bend or out of the next bay. This approach worked until it didn’t and when
it didn’t, I had no margin for error. I’m pleased that I am able to write about
all of this in the past tense, in my own voice, with the possibility of a
sequel. Brian would have written a great memorial reflection, I am sure…. but
happily, it will have to wait.
Peace, love, and happiness,
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