Boundary Waters, a fairytale experience

Last week, Delta and I finally went canoeing in the Boundary Waters, a trip we'd been planning to take for a couple years now.

We'd known we were going for a few months now, but I'd put off the whole canoeing thing until the trip was almost upon us. And then, a few weeks before our vacation, Delta turned to me and said pointedly, "you know a canoe trip is going to involve portaging, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course," I tried to nonchalantly brush it off.

"You know portaging invovles actually carrying the canoe, right?"

"Right..." my voice had lost it's edge of self confidence now.

"Do you think your arms are strong enough for that?" Delta pressed on.

We both looked down at my arms, which have been used for nothing more strenuous than typing over the past ten years. These ladies were meant for nothing greater than washing my hair. They hung limply down at my sides, like a couple linguine strands from my neck.

Suddenly, I was full of panic. "Delta, what do I do? I'll never be able to carry a canoe!"

"What do you mean?! Go to the gym!"

And so started my new routine at the gym. Arms, core, legs & cardio. Arms, core, legs & cardio. Until suddenly the day was upon us, and we excitedly caught our flight to Duluth, MN. 

As it turns out, portaging can only be done by one person. So Delta was lumped with carrying the canoe after all. 

But enough about portaging, which ultimately turned out to be a relatively small part of the whole experience. If there are just a couple things I took back from our Boundary waters experience, it would be the absolute solitude in nature. And the heartmelting views, simply uncomparable.

A moment of respite, before we launched from one lake to the next.

 Gathering firewood to cook our daily dinner.

 A sunset view from the campsite, drying off on the shore after our evening swim.

 A view of the cove where we had our morning swim

 Ultimately, Delta carried the canoe on his head. I'm still happy I worked on my arms, though.

Each portage point was unique and spectacular in it's own right.

A lazy afternoon reading on the beach

A sudden mid-portage crisis of "I quit! I'm hungry! I'm tired!"

I knows someone famous now

This June, Rohinton played on the Bermuda badminton team for the Island Games 2011. That's right, suckers. I NOW KNOW SOMEONE FAMOUS.

For my American readers - yes, in the rest of the world, Badminton is actually a serious sport. Not just hitting around a birdie in a backyard picnic. I expect that you'll  treat this announcement with the appropriate level of gravity.

So family McDelta, father, mothing, sister, wife, husband, and uncle, all bumbled kit and caboodle to the little known Isle of Wight to cheer for Rohinton.

I dont' blame you if you're scratching your head at the Island Games. I hadn't known what they were before this year, either, before Rohinton's foray into fame. It's basically like the Olympics, or the Asiatics - a large international sports meet that takes place every two years, specifically for island countries. That's right. Not only do those people have all the clean beaches, good weatger and beautiful oceans. They also have their own olympics.

And there he was, our very own Rohinton, representing the country of Bermuda on their badminton team. Delta and I couldn't have been more proud. And so it was that we found ourselves on the flight across the pond to London, the coach to Portsmouth, the ferry to Ryde and the little train to Shanklin, which was to be our home for 4 days while we dove into an intensive international tete a tete in badminton.

A couple of the islands there were decidedly dodgy. Like Aland and Gotland. Delta and I were convinced that some of these were made up - a group of people who had made up an island, flag and national song of their own so they could participate in the Island Games. So we did some nifty googling to confirm the credibility of our oponents. I mean, seriuosly. Aland? Gotland? But as it turned out, they do exist, mere dots on maps though they be.

Family McDelta, taking in some sun at the Island Games parade.

The Island Games parade, not to be underestimated for it's pomp and grandeur.

 Badminton. A real sport, fyi.

The prodigal child returns

In stealth, I slip back into the room. Somewhat horrified. Somewhat frustrated. But mostly just mortified at my own lack of fortitude. Really, has it been three months? Has it taken me three months to revisit this blog, to come back home?

Like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, I slink back to the table red-faced with embarrassment.

Every week, just a few minutes of creativity. A few minutes of introspection, and self-mockery. And yet, for the last three months, I have proved myself to have time for neither. In the same way, frankly, that it seems I never have time for cleaning. Or laundry. Or the dishes.

There is no reason. There is no excuse. And more importantly, I've missed my dear blog terribly, so it all really doesn't make any sense. In typical fashion, I've foisted myself again.

And so this, here, is my mid-year resolution. A coy homecoming.