Seven hours, give or take, of northwardly driving, terminating within the Muskokas. One might plot the course along 401 through Toronto, 400 to Barrie, Hwy 11 to Bracebridge, 118 to Haliburon, if one were into such things.
Shannon and I hung out with Barry, Barb, and Irene for most of the week, burning under the daystar. We did quite a bit of snorkling in the surrounding area, at Ox Tongue, Buttermilk Falls, and around Minden. Twas quite pleasent, being up-close-and-wet with the fish, driftwood, and golfballs. The breathing underwater experience was far less tramatic overall than I expected.
During a crash-course in kayak-driving the wind kicked up significantly to threaten us with dark and ominous waves. Barb’s dog slept soundly in the bottom of her canoe throughout the raging torrent, which is an excellent indication that she was in no real danger.
Shannon and I, being the pale geeks that we are, forsoke the sunscreen entirely over the week, and foolishly posed with backsides upward at the burning daystar. This resulted in the terribly gross and altogether itchy sunburns being plastered across our backs. I fully expect to have trouble sleeping for weeks.
We perched in a peculiar little building each night, which did little to let in the cool night air, but gave nil resistance to the wet ground. Mornings consisted of logs, tuna, fruit, pb&j, and smores. Being a little too tough, we fed the logs to the fire which had erupted in their midst, seemingly intent on cooking our marshmellows. Quite convenient, that.
My musical background was further developed and/or confused by the mirad of delightful noises that Shannon conjured forth, using her obscure-to-me CD collection. I may even need to figure out what some of it was, like that green and yellow chix0rs disc.
Certainly no trip would be complete without several trips to Kawartha Dairy; against all the riff-raff in the area, truely Kawartha has the best Moose Tracks of all.