outdoors. Always have. We weren’t a boating family. My Mother had an irrational fear of the water but some of my fondest memories are of being near the water.
I started looking through old photos and the majority of them were taken on or at the edge of some sort of body of water – the annual picnics to a local provincial park on one of the Great Lakes
Day trips to the beach
Visits to my Aunt & Uncle’s cottage in Muskoka (accessible only by boat)
Paddling around in their canoe and fishing off the dock
A not so fond memory of extreme sea-sickness on a ferry ride didn’t dampen my love of the water although I remember that day wanting to die. As a teen, I had friends who sailed and had powers boats.
And as an adult with a young family there were always camping trips that involved canoeing
long drives along the coast
clam digging on the Fundy shore and
that long ferry ride to Newfoundland (yes, sea sick again).
Several years ago my passion for sailing was sealed after spending time as crew during sailing races on the east coast. I found the rush of the events thrilling – in those days I was usually the fore-deck monkey – when I was much younger and a whole lot more agile. The social aspect was fun too but the real pleasure for me was just being on the water – whether heading into the wind clinging to the rails at 45˚, water rushing over the gunnels or calmly cruising downwind – I wanted to be there. I also spent many happy times sailing with friends in non-racing settings.
I rarely missed the Tall Ships when they were in port
they held the dream that I would never experience