Friday, July 9, 2010


The stress of single-handedly combating evil syndicated world systems that plot dastardly designs against volunteer firefighters was taking its toll, and it was time for a furlough from the front lines of activism and politicking.

Actually, it was Erinn and my 17th anniversary, so we left the kids with their grandparents and drove to Rossport, which is hidden away off Highway 17, and draped across the rocky shore of Lake Superior.

(I know. The furlough from mortal combat against evil anti-volunteer syndicates sounds more glamorous than an anniversary getaway, but I've never been good at fibbing, not even through the filter of the Internet.)

I was about 10 years old the first time I saw Lake Superior. I remember gluing my face to the window of our VW van during the trip from Sault Ste Marie to Thunder Bay, and only peeling it away on the stretches where the lake was out of view. The largest and most unspoiled of the Great Lakes has never lost its magic, and kayaking was a good way to enjoy the the emotion of the scenery even more. Photography is like trying to catch the breeze in a bottle, but here are some attempts.

If you ever travel the north shore of Lake Superior and have time for a one-kilometre side trip, stop in Rossport. For a tiny hamlet with a handful of people, it has more than its fair share of attractions. It features an exotic gift shop, a potter who wood fires his own pieces on site, a fabulous restaurant, an outfitter to fix you up with a kayak or canoe, and several Bed and Breakfasts, most of which have splendid views of the lake. We stayed at the Willows B&B, in a room fit for royalty at a price attainable to even a two-bit fire chief from the peripheral edge of the universe. If you miss Rossport, you miss one of the best getaways in the world.

Enough dreamy reminiscences about anniversary getaways. Actually, it wasn't enough. A week would have been better than two days, but somebody has to keep the evil anti-volunteer syndicates in line.

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