The Haul Up

By Bernadette McKendy

During the cold winter when I feel trapped by the weather, I fantasize about my place where I launch my canoe. I wear a jogging suit and a green visor and gloves, and the anticipation is so great it is almost painful.

That very special joy when the canoe begins to float. All my troubles vanish and I become one with my surroundings. The sun is warm – I’m on the lookout for the loons.

I stop paddling and let the canoe drift until I realize I have let it edge too close to the shore and the alder brushes are scratching against the side and one gets tangled in my hair. I steer away from the shore and out to the middle of the pond.

I am alone on the river but every once in a while I hear a car on the road beside the headpond. I recognize most of the drivers and raise my paddle in a gay salute.

A breeze comes up and ruffles the surface of the water. There are black flies buzzing around my head and I am so happy to be on my beloved river that I ignore them.

One lone seagull appears overhead and I wonder if it is the same one I see so often. Never more than one – it’s more beautiful that way. The sun shining on its feathers turning them to silver against the blue sky.

The loon calls to its mate – that’s what I have been listening for and it is such a beautiful sound – there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that can compare with that lamenting sound.

I cross the river and drift into the little inlet on the far side. A brook trembles down the hill over the mossy rocks and into the stillwater. Apart from the loons, this is one of the few sounds to interrupt the peaceful silence that is so healing to my soul.

But I look at my watch and am shocked to see it is so late and so I must turn around and head back to the car. The current speeds me on my way and all too soon I’m at the Haul Up again and it’s time to beach the canoe and join the world again.

This is what keeps me sane during our long cold winter days.

Post-script: The story behind the picture.

My aunt gave me this picture recently. My grandfather’s brother was a hobby photographer and apparently he took this picture of his sister-in-law (my grandmother) from the shore without her knowing. Although she isn’t sporting her signature jogging suit and green translucent style visor mentioned in the Haul Up, the feeling of joy and peace comes through in this picture.

I didn’t realize that she had named her canoe, for all the times I must have walked by it stored at my camp up the road. But Merry Mack seems the perfect name. She certainly was a Merry soul, and I think Mack must be from our last name. It is McKendy, pronounced MACK-endee, but every person gets it wrong upon first pronunciation.

I wrote the following, inspired by this picture after I received it as a gift earlier this year.

Merry Mack

by Monica McKendy

My grandmother. Mother. Daughter. Sister. Wife. Teacher. Writer. Gardener.

Human-Doing: Paddling. Breathing. Sitting. Smiling.

Human-Being: Content. Joyful. At peace. In awe.

The place has meaning. The Nepisiguit. A river that pulsed through both of my grandmother’s veins. Different women. Different lived experiences. Different challenges. Both with connection to this place.

The place that would connect the two families, on different paths, and lead to the union of my parents. My birth. My loss when that union ended and physical connections to this place began to sever.

Merry Mack. MM. My initials. Tiny threads of connections I feel to my relations as I get older. As I finally learn what it means to live. What stories would you have for me now? What bits of advice and wisdom?

The vessel. I have seen many boats with names, but this must be my first named canoe. What does this name mean? Thank you for this gift of wonder. I may learn the answer, but if I do not, that is okay.

Not knowing the answers is something I am starting to live with and even welcome. Life’s mysteries, small gifts that feed my wonder-curiosity rather than my knowledge-curiosity.

Why do we name and label ourselves? Merry Mack – Mother. Daughter. Sister. Wife. Teacher. Writer. Gardener.

A lot more – Curious. Kind. Loving. Funny. Appreciative. Wise. Interesting.

A woman paddling down her favourite river with pure joy, unaware that the moment is being captured.

The best part of the story.