When I was asked to do a guest blog my response was a simple “Sure, why not?”
I thought it would be an easy task: recounting a five-day canoe trip in Algonquin Park with 10 other Type 1’s (and one 5.5er).But when I sat down to write, I struggled where to even I begin.
At the conference call months ago where we discussed route options? Maybe ‘meeting and greeting’ the CIM crew in Dorset for our orientation night? Or should I start at the end where we stood as a tightly knit group of individuals, basking in the sun after cruising through a 2.1km portage in 45 minutes (where the 5.5er was the only who went below 4mmol/L)?
The Arrival
People slowly arrived in Dorset on Wednesday evening. Our connections were simple: Type 1 diabetes, canoe trip experience, and most importantly, a passion for life. As we discussed route changes and individual goals, it was clear from the beginning – people were ready to kick some ass. One last thing before bed, CGM set up!
The next morning, after the logistics of shuttles and getting keys out of locked cars, we hit the waters of Canoe Lake with high spirits and good tail winds. We made great time. While unloading the canoes at our first campsite, Chloe asked, “So what do you do when you get to site at 2pm?”
Well, you swim, talk, filter water, play Cards Against Humanity, eat delicious food, hang in hammocks, watch a crazy full moon rise and survive the first tempest of the trip. Through it all, the group grows that much closer.
We hit the waters on the second day and soon stared down the longest portage of the trip, 2390m. For our second portage as group, we crushed it. To make a long story short, we pretty much crushed this entire trip. Beaver dams, almost dried up rivers, big lakes, small lakes, portages of all sizes, winds from all angles, hot days in the sun and cool nights under stars.
We did what we set out to do – moved through the interior of Algonquin Park for five days as a group of diabetics. But we accomplished much more than that. Each of us looked face-to-face at physical and mental challenges. Some we were expecting, some came as a surprise. Together we conquered those challenges with ease, all the while thinking, “What’s next?”
In doing so, we forged new friendships and re-ignited and strengthened old ones. We talked and shared our stories, our life experiences, our dreams and our goals. And we laughed, and laughed and laughed. Some laughed until they cried, some until they peed their pants. As the group grew closer, we also grew stronger.
I came around the corner of the last portage and could see the sunlight shimmering off the water ahead. I smiled; another portage complete. I was one of the first to reach the end, and had the privilege of heading back into the forest to offer assistance as others made their way. When I encountered others, I had to interrupt bubbly happy conversation to offer my help, all of which was declined except for the offer of one small pack, which I gladly accepted.
I reach the end one final time. The entire group was there with all of the canoes and packs, waiting for our water taxi. Having been so fast, we found ourselves with an hour to kill.
I don’t think any of us wanted this trip to end. Five days earlier we were eleven individuals arriving at an orientation meeting to participate in a group trip. Now we felt like we were operating as a fine-tuned machine – a very happy, very healthy and very finely tuned machine.
Although the calendar tells me this trip is over, it actually feels like it is just the beginning. I don’t even know what these ‘new beginnings’ will mean for me. But I do know that regardless of where they lead me, my diabetes community will help by providing an ear that I can talk to through the night, the strength to portage over one last obstacle and the inspiration to dig a little deeper to get threw shallow waters.
For now, all I can think of is making trip even better for next year!
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Thanks to Pat Lynch for the blog post and to Hank Devos for the unreal photos. You guys are the greatest.
