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Show 226 We are a family on a rare vacation. Gifted the experience by generous souls. Granted the experience by an unprecedented eight months out of the hospital. Guarded, in this premature and unexpected autumn storm, by generous volunteers, eight of them for six of us. Around yet another bend and I can see that the canoes are gathering on the shore of a sandbar. We will be camping there for the night. Julie and I back-paddle and draw the canoe into the makeshift harbor and Allen, up to his thighs in the cold water, is catching the rope tied to our bow, pulling our canoe, scuffing up onto the sand. A group of volunteers is already next to me, helping me out of the canoe and into my wheelchair. Unlike the first few disordered days, we have finally discovered the system. Our boys will help Hy set up the tent and it will no longer take an hour to do so. The girls will wander over to the "kitchen," a battered card table carried up from a canoe along with the coolers of food, and delight in helping the younger volunteers start our dinner. Allen will secure the canoes against the night's weather and set up the portable toilet. The coals are blanketing the Dutch ovens and there is a small campfire started in a different pan - this is wilderness and we are to leave no trace behind. We will all gather around this warmth when the canoes are unloaded, the tents are up, the bedding is laid out, and the meal is cooking. |