I long to be free from the oppressive shower-and-toilet regime of modern civilisation!

That's right folks, bento's goin' on a canoe trip!

Most of you know this already, but my summer housemate Catherine and I have been planning to take Brier on a canoe trip for her birthday (this Monday) for about a month and a half. And last night it all came to fruition -- bags were packed, food was boughten, tents were borrowed, and Brier was let in on the plan.

Of course, it turns out she'd guessed it already -- smart cookie that she is, she'd put together various bits of information and figured out we must be going camping. I guess I'm not the epitome of stealthy secrecy that I thought it was. But I take solace in the fact that Brier said she enjoyed the anticipation of sort-of knowing just as much.

I'm not sure why I like canoe trips so much. After all, it's a lot of hard physical exertion, plus non-gourmet food cooked over a tiny camp stove, plus (probably, looking at the forecast) rain, plus no normal amenities like running water or flushing toilets. I think my love has something to do with those magical moments when you feel really connected to other people. You are with them all the time, sharing in the adventure, commiserating when things get miserable. You're all working towards a common goal, all acting (for brief moments) as one well-oiled team.

Also, food never tastes better then when you're on a canoe trip. I hated both oatmeal and that odd combination of nuts and dried fruits and chocolate known as Gorp -- until they became the best thing I'd ever tasted after a long day of paddling and portaging.

Plus, I like the outdoors. It's got a serenity that I don't find very much elsewhere in my life (through no one's fault but my own, I should add) and my busy life gets stripped down to the simplest of tasks: food, shelter, water, rest. Water and rocks and green things make me feel alive, both terribly important and extremely insignificant at the same time.

And oddly, I like it.