It is all just a little too perfect. The first day of my
two-day kayaking trip on the Saguenay River, a tributary of the
St. Lawrence, is the stuff of paddlers' dreams. The water is
smooth, dark, and glassy like obsidian. The summer air is crisp
and flavourful with a wisp of wind carrying scents of warm pine
and hardwoods down the steep slopes. The silence, disturbed only
by the rhythmic schuss, schuss, schuss of
our paddles as they slice the water's surface, is arresting.