On still summer mornings, with the lake so calm the surface seems poised to shatter, I always discover again the pleasure of paddling for its own sake.
A good canoe does not merely travel across a lake or river, it glides along the interface between water and air, making hardly a ripple in passing and is so silent that it blends with the world.
Paddling it makes you part of the lake, not an intruder, and a participant in the pastel dramas of dawn.
Being out there is not just a way to greet the new day; it’s a way to be reawakened to it, to see it again with the eyes of children.-Jerry Dennis excerpts from A Wooden Canoe
