Canadian Bacon

Canadian Bacon

It's not really bacon, you know. It's more like a pork loin coated in pea-meal.

People come to Canada to paddle in our wild rivers, eat our 'Canadian bacon', and enjoy our Canadian women, but they don't expect coated ham, and they don't expect me.

I am a girl with the looks and heritage of an Italian-Canadian. Dad always said that he married Sophia Loren, but I never saw one of her films. It would make me sad, having lost them both only 5 years ago.

Dad had already lost most of his hair. Like Ron Howard, he went from a fully haired boy to a fringed dome in less than a decade.

The two raised me to the point of going to college for my dream job, then my inheritance helped me to start my wilderness adventure company.

'Canoe Sue' is now going into its fourth season, with full bookings through the Canadian Thanksgiving. I have three young ladies working with me now, and they have skin in the game too. I insisted on a reasonable buy-in, and they are all working it off, with one paying off her investment by the end of the season.

I've never told my girls to have sex with our clients, but I did train them, and I never let a chance to make love in the woods pass me by. We charge a lot, but the tips are still the meter that we use to judge our success, and we all get great tips.

Less than 2% of Ontario is composed of Indigenous People. Of course it's much higher north of Barrie, but it's still less than 1 in 10, and many are on their Tribal lands or deep in the back country.

Our Tour Guide company is 50% Aboriginal. Christa is from Ecuador with her own native roots and I was born in North Bay, Ontario. Winter Storm and her sister Autumn Breeze are Ojibwa on both sides. Their grandfather was my dad's best friend, and he taught me how to love the land, and the water. He is the one that simply told me that I could do whatever I wanted in life, as long as I followed my heart. So we teach our patrons to love the land, and the water, and themselves.

We also own Witamaki Outfitters, and this year Tom is retiring, and his nephew Paulee is taking over. He's a bit young, but the other ladies like him, while I think of him as a cousin, so I don't fool around with him, like the others do.

"Winter! Can you check the bags from LAX," Paulee yelled, "I think they didn't read the memo." He was referring to the four smiling yokels that stood on the dock ogling their guides.

I had to shake my head seeing all three of my partners standing with their tits hanging out, and expecting their American patrons to just accept it as normal business in Canada.

"Who here wants everyone to wear a shirt," I asked, as if it was a democracy.

Paulee just shook his head. Even he wasn't objecting to the view, but he wanted the customers to put their tongues back in their mouths and get their tails in gear.

My guys were returning customers, so they knew the drill. They came off the shuttle bus and put their compact personal items into the dry bags, then carried their own gear to our travel van. They all had their maps in hand, but I could tell that they were very interested in the two guides they had never traveled with.

"You've got your map upside down Bishop," I called out to my friend. They all looked, first to see that I was joking, then because we all knew who they had been checking out.

"Maybe next year we could try a different guide," he teased me. He might be able to get on their schedule for next year, but I doubted it.

"Those ladies are booked boys. You will get your paddling experience with me and Christa, or you can try paddling stag?" I suggested, but I had heard the last of that.

"I'm sure Paulee can find you a male guide, and I know some of them would like to give you a paddling Jordan," Christa suggested.

Jordan is a linebacker for the New York Giants. Well he could be if he wasn't an Electrical Engineer outside of Boston.

"Do we have to wait for Paulee," Jordan whined.

I knew they wanted to get back on the water, but I hoped they also wanted to get back in my arms.

Winter finally got out of her canoe and had her attentive audience opening up their packs for her.

Electronic devices!

She piled them on the dock from each bag, then decided it was easier to pull out the things they needed, rather than the things they didn't. Her sister finally arrived, with her stereo blaring from her rusty clunker. Autumn was a tough choice for me, but her sister pleaded, and she is a great guide, as are many in her tribe.

The sisters exchanged a few words that I could not keep up with, but it was no doubt an apology.

"Okay, I'm sure they can handle it, Paulee, just pack some extra condoms," I yelled to our trip planner. All of their heads jerked to me, then back to their beautiful dark skinned guides.

"Is large okay for you guys? I don't want you breaking any," I heard Paulee ask. "...or losing one inside," he muttered less loudly.

I looked over at Jim and he nodded his head, confirming that he had packed enough King Dong condoms for his beefy member.

Paulee could see that they were fine, he jumped in the driver's seat of the van so I could chat with my friends. My young friend would have his headphones on in 3 seconds, so he was more of a chauffeur at this point. I was only 6 years older than him, but we are a world apart.

I hung over the seat, disregarding the seat belt. My tits were supported by the headrest, and the 10 pounds I put on during the winter were hidden, at least for now.

"So how is your wife Earl," I asked.

"The Countess is pregnant again," Bishop interjected. They still made fun of Earl's noble name. I still couldn't remember his wife's name though.

Earl pulled up the ultrasound pictures and I cooed at the shadow figure, not really caring.

We had a long drive, but it was mostly highway. The logging road to our access point was not far off the tarmac.

"Let's shake it guys," I yelled as I jumped from the shotgun seat. "We want to put civilization behind us!" I was anxious for the solitude of nature.

"I thought we left civilization behind us when we took off from Toronto," Earl teased his Canadian friends.

They work in a Tesla facility outside of Boston, making improvements to batteries, but they were learning about life when they came North to Witamaki National Park.

We had the gear in the canoes and on the water in record time. Christa and I had our own single person canoes, so that we could move independently and instruct some of our less experienced explorers on the fine points of paddling. These men were seasoned adventurers, having paddled with me for their first time on the maiden trip of my business, Canoe Sue.

Jordan and Jim were usually in the stern of their crafts, being the bigger guys, but it was easier for them to be in the bow when the 17 foot prospector canoes were fully loaded. Earl loved to take his turn in the rear. He went exploring with his wife now, every chance they got, but he still loved his guy trips.

Bishop had his shirt off as soon as we put the bugs behind us. The breeze on the lake kept them away. I had some goosebumps from the northern wind, but the pickup in pace allowed me to keep my milk jugs dancing in the air.

Jordan and Earl slid past me on the starboard side and both gave me a squeeze as they slid by. I blew them a promissory kiss, and got Charlie back in the water to keep up with them. Charlie is my broad blade paddle. He is named after the man that made it, Charlie Whitefeather, my mentor.

We headed for the river at the northeast end of the lake. The breeze was off our left side now, so we didn't have to blast against it, and the flow was in our favor, though it didn't amount to much until we got into the narrows.

Christa looked good. I wasn't really into any girl action, but I didn't mind when she was in the same tent as me. She was always complimenting and encouraging, even with me. Never sarcastic like I can be.

I found Christa on the whitewater of an Amazon tributary. She is darker than me, but I am well tanned after my 4 month trip to Ecuador. The winters here are just too harsh. Christa is fluent in Portuguese and Spanish and she has a degree in Anthropology. She makes better money here though, and she figures that she can play in the dirt when she gets older.

We hit the 1200 meter portage right at noon, so we took the time to grab some trail mix that Tom still makes during the winter. He may be retired, but he's not dead yet. He reminds us of that every time he comes out of his cabin to wave at us as we paddle past Tom and Suzie's comfy cabin on Silver Lake.

Tom still cuts his own wood too, and I don't think that he's ever been as trim as he is now. His wife insists that they go to Jamaica every year for a month, and he's taking up snorkeling and marijuana as a hobby. The growing season is shorter in northern Ontario, but he has a little greenhouse and he starts his cannabis plants in March, before the ice is gone. He doesn't sell any, but he's always glad to trade some for a Timmy's or an EBay Gift card.

He sold us the outfitting business complete with the building, property and docks, for a very nice price, but the deal included 5 percent of our profit, until both he and his wife are gone. We will extend it to Paulee at that point, if he can behave that long.

"Jordan, where are we camping tonight?" I yelled so everyone could hear.

"Eastern end of Bull Lake," he yelled in return. "We decided to make day one light so we can talk and stuff!" Everyone laughed, but I thought it was a great idea. I had noticed the boys were keeping themselves fit between trips, my mind was thinking sexy thoughts for most of the afternoon.

I remembered the second year, when Christa didn't have her visa yet. I tried to split them up, but they tricked me and doubled up for two weeks! It was a fly-in trip, so I didn't know until I got to the Great Bear Lake, and we found Bishop and Earl camped right where we were expecting to camp.

Of course they all paid the extra cost of being guided for two weeks instead of one, and their tips and gentlemanly attitude were enough for me to loosen the two to one ratio that I had set the year before.

Christa was first to the portage, and she didn't wait, having her pack in place, Jordan helped her get her canoe on top and she set off at a brisk pace. I remembered her first bear encounter just last year. We had to repair her canoe with duct tape and epoxy, after she threw it into a gully and ran. One day I'll see a puma in her country, and she can get back at me... If I survive the encounter.

Everyone was single carrying, so we would be at camp by 4, I figured. We didn't fish on the first day, wanting to get off the road as far as possible, without overdoing it.

Earl and Bishop both helped me with my little canoe. I've been doing this since I was 12, without help, but I must admit that their chivalry was working, or it was their smiles. I was almost panting with my lust for a hard one!

The other two canoes were on the water and moving fast, when Bishop lowered their canoe at the water's edge.

"Do you guys feel like taking a break?" I asked, pumping my brow up and down suggestively.

"I would love a 'break'," Earl confessed putting the brackets to the word break with the standard double digit hand sign.

I kicked out of my bike shorts, and they quickly stripped themselves.

I lay down on a grassy spot and Earl moved right between my legs for a taste. I figured, as a married man he knew exactly what he wanted, so he went for it!

"Wow!" I exclaimed, then wondered if I might attract attention from our paddle partners on the lake.

Earl kept on lapping away, then two fingers joined his tongue and I blew my top, undulating as Bishop knelt beside me. He let me regain my senses then offered his cock to my mouth. Earl shifted to ride me, lifting my legs up to suck on my toes, but I was still wearing my runners!

He decided to suck them next time. He wasn't going to last long enough to get them off and he couldn't remember what he was doing as he came hard in my happy cootch.

I could have carried on at that point, but bishop needed to fuck, and he was getting hard before Earl had finished slamming me.

Bishop only took the time to get a condom on before he took Earl's place at my love nest.

I was so wet that I had to concentrate to grip his cock. I didn't want to fuck like a mother of 4! No disrespect intended, but I couldn't see how passing babies through there could let you keep it tight.

I wasn't worried about having another orgasm, there would be a lot of chances when we got to camp. Bishop and Earl had other ideas though as Earl dropped onto my tits with both hands and an eager mouth. Bishop was fucking with such a blissful look on his face that I thought he might do that for an hour.

The added tit attention worked, of course, sending me flowing nicely into a climax that lasted longer than I expected. Then we felt the bites. We were covered in ants! We all ran into the water, yipping and laughing, then we floated together groping cocks and stealing passionate kisses. I suppose I missed these guys.

We took our time crossing the last lake, but they had only put up one tent and Christa had them both in the tent going over bush-craft or reading a story.

It was a loud story, and it involved the rhythmic movement of one side.

"We are very busy! Loren? Bishop? Earl?

We stayed in our canoes until Christa put her head out of the tent.

"What? What? We could hear you three fucking on the shore behind us! What did you expect them to do? They practically forced themselves on me," she fake cried, then someone pulled her back in.

"I'll get the tent up, if you two want to start with dinner," Bishop suggested.

"Earl, get that fire started while I ask Christa a question," I demanded, since I was the leader of the pack.

Bishop grabbed the tent and Earl lifted the food barrel onto his athletic frame. "Sandy!" I finally remembered his wife's name, thinking about how lucky she is.

I unzipped the tent where the party was going on. We purchased 4 man tents for the start of our second season, so there was more room to party.

I found Christa bouncing on Jim's giant cock. Jim was smiling as we both remembered his early days, and early cumming! Christa had a big smile too. Jordan looked spent, but he livened up when I pushed myself into their tent.

"Earl's getting the coals ready for the baked potatoes and steak, so I thought we could let the guys cook," I offered. Even Bishop and Earl liked that idea, because they knew that they would just have to start the food cooking, and they would have fun too.

Food is always best when you've worked up an appetite, I thought, as I devoured a small potato, baked perfectly.

Bishop got his guitar tuned while the others gathered and chopped more firewood. We all enjoyed an evening of music, then the party broke up. Jordan was responsible for dousing the fire, so Christa was going to have to cuddle with Jim for ten minutes.

We had another round, then we all sort of faded away into lala land.

After breakfast we had everything down and packed in record time.

I was going to shadow Jordan and Jim today, while Christa switched to the other two.

We found whitewater in the first five minutes. I have run these rapids a hundred times, but they are different every year, and every season. Rocks move, and a ridge at one water level becomes a wall in one season and a place for fish to hide in the fall.

Christa and I held back and watched as the men worked the lines that they had found, snaking their way around the rocks and ledges. They were far more experienced now, and these were just class 2's. I could tell that they missed the challenge, but we would push them hard on this trip.

"These were my first, you know," I proudly explained to my business partner.

She nodded her head. "lo hiciste bien, hermana," she answered.

You did well, sister is right. I was going to have to teach her French, I thought. What good is Spanish in Canada?

We both worked our own path through the simple rapids. We could have hammed it up for the guys who now watched us, but that would only scrape some gel-coat off our hard shelled canoes, so we played nice. There would be time for bouncing off of rocks when we came to the class 3 technical sections tomorrow.

The Albany River flows all the way to James Bay, but we would be catching a float plane at the outpost on Porcupine Lake. These guys could count on a different route every time, with the thousands of lakes and rivers that we have in our majestic backyard. I would be flying out with these guys, while Autumn brings in the next tour, for an extension to the Bay. The six of them would fly back to Sudbury in a bigger plane from there.

We ate lunch on a bluff looking out over a valley formed by what used to be a raging river, but is now an unnamed corkscrew of a creek.

A cow moose and her calf were grazing in the shallow river bed about 500 meters up the valley, but the breeze came towards us, so mamma wasn't aware of our oversight.

Bishop snuggled up behind me.

"It's so beautiful here," he whispered in my ear. True, the sights are amazing, but his hands were playing with my tits so I turned to give my friend a peck. He pushed his tongue in for more passion and I responded in kind.

"Is it mating season?" Jim asked in his deep voice. The sound carried to our big friend eating with her calf, and both heads jerked up. This was a protected area though, and the animals have a sense for that. The mama moose still decided it was time to move on, so she rambled into the boreal forest and out of site. Her offspring bounced closely at her side, but looked over its shoulder as if to say bye, then the green forest enveloped them.

Bishop jumped to his feet and used my tits like handles to help me up.

We spent the afternoon between small easy rapids and short, difficult portages. At one spot we just lined up and did a bucket brigade style transfer of all of the gear and canoes down a deep drop in elevation.

At the bottom of this path we enjoyed the waterfall, but it's too dangerous to wade into it. Sometimes a fallen tree passes through here, and the force will snap it like a twig.

I have camped here, but most people can't sleep with the steady roar of the torrent. It's also hard to hear voices, so we only stay for 15 minutes to burn the view into our memories.

There is also a mist that will be very cold at night.

Before we head out I blow hard on my whistle a few times, making Jim jump about a foot in the air.

"Sorry, I should have warned you," I apologize loudly. "Bears can't hear us!" I yell so all will understand why I'm ruining the moment with a blast of noise.

The bears have good noses though, so I wasn't overly worried. We hefted our loads and headed out with me leading the caravan, puffing out a blast from my whistle every 100 feet or so, until we were far enough from the cacophony that we could talk to each other again.

"So, Christa, what is it like paddling on the Amazon?" Earl asked. "Is it as exotic as it sounds?"

Christa has an accent, but she works hard to enunciate what she calls 'Canadian' English.

"We do have Jaguars that would rip you to shreds, but we kayak on small tributaries of the Amazon," Christa responded with her melodic accent, and they usually stay away from groups. They are seen much less than your bears." she finished.

"Da Bears," Jordan sang out.

"Da Bears," Earl responded with a deep voice.

Christa looked over at me with that look that says, "are they loco", but I shrugged, not wanting to go into the American sense of humor and the Chicago Bears.

"Can you walk around topless down there?" Jim wondered, showing where his interests lay.