Limitations

I had been worrying that I might develop COVID-19 symptoms while I was out here. The descriptions I had read were of weakness and an inability to function. Feeling like someone is sitting on your chest, has been a common description.

Paddling in a pandemic brings its own set of concerns – including carrying a thermometer. Alone in the bush with a high fever and overwhelming weakness could be debilitating or worse.

I was already so far behind that I could not complete the loop I had planned. My recourse was to enjoy a rest day, do some fishing and exploring, and then head back the way I had come.

The 9 km of meandering wetland and beaver dams on Loughrin Creek would take one day in itself. I could camp at the unmaintained campsite at the beginning of the long Loughrin portage, do that portage the next day, and then spend a whole day at Biggar Lake fishing and exploring there.

Suddenly the world looked a whole lot easier. It was an achievable plan, if greatly reduced from what I had intended. Lesson learned. The next time I took on a solo trip I would be packing for lightness. I wrote my new plan in my journal.

From my journal, Day 4, Wednesday afternoon, 17 June 2020

“Caught a 14 inch brook trout this morning. Cooked it for lunch and supper. Probably 2 lbs dressed. I had knocked down the barbs on all my hooks for some catch and release.

I’ve had a nap in the middle of the afternoon. I’m remembering trips with my ex. I loved having her with me in a tent.

I think about D__ who has stopped talking to any of us. He lived for decades in a loveless marriage he was responsible for creating. Then he got dirty about sex. He went to sending pornographic jokes. Affairs? I don’t know. I’m feeling that way and I don’t like it.”

It’s funny what you think about, where your mind goes when you are alone. The unhappy things rise up.

Freedom becomes not having to answer to anyone else, the naive perversion of freedom. Wanting the benefits of connection with others without having to make any kind of commitment to restricting my own behaviour. An excuse to renounce my responsibility, the fetishization of the independent individualist in me. Transcendentalism, a toxic formula for life.

I thought differently at 20. Then, being free was striking off on my own. I was discovering, learning to become independent. After marriage, kids, career, politics, a huge circle of friends, social activism, wins and losses, I see my life as a series of commitments. Independence is choosing a direction, not an abdication.

My journal, after 9 pm.

“I think I found the cabin, at least some cut logs piled up. It was near the location on the map.

I interrupted a medium-sized snapping turtle digging a hole to lay her eggs on the path down to my canoe. I was sorry to make her leave.

The evening fishing produced nothing, but had I caught my fish for the day. Of four days, I’ve eaten three meals of trout, two suppers and a lunch.

I worked hard on my rest day. I need to do some stretching before I go to bed.

I couldn’t hang my food barrel so I piled the pots and dishes on top of it and hope that’s enough to wake me up. And in case the wind comes up, I put two bailers of water on the fire to put it out.

Big sound of water being shed! Maybe my turtle is back? Maybe a moose? But no noise follows. Probably a fish.

It’s hot again tonight. The mosquitoes are really bad. I had to put my bug jacket on to brush my teeth.”