Canoe Soo 04

I am in love with Loren Campbell. Forget about liking this story or rating it, none of that matters. I wish that I had her life. It's as simple as that. Young, vibrant, strong, knowledgeable, stoic, ambitious. Matched with kind, hard working, spirited, curious, helpful. She is my dream woman. She has her true beauty inCharacter.

So, I hope you enjoy this story, even though it is entirely fictitious. In this fourth chapter, we flash back to some of the stories that Loren heard from her parents, so you may want to know the context of the entire story prior to reading on. A few of the rivers and lakes actually exist, and people travel on them too. Look for me there my lusty friends.

Canoe Soo Ch.4

Charlie Whitefeather was no friend of the Ontario Parks Authority.

He had many heated discussions with my father, who had just taken over as the Superintendent of the Witimaki Provincial Park.

"The tourists that will paddle these waters, are the voices that will keep your beautiful land free and wild," Scott Campbell explained to the Elders, as I watched and listened.

"We have the opportunity to make the rules for the park, and enforce those rules with stiff fines. We can also keep our biologists and naturalists active in monitoring the water quality to keep industrial waste away from the fish hatcheries that thrive throughout these lands. If we invite the average Canadian voter to see this beautiful land from a canoe, they will want to protect it." Dad certainly knew his talking points.

Mom was one of those Biologists that he talked about. She graduated from the University of Guelph which has a great reputation as a school for Environmental Sciences. She met dad while doing post doctoral studies in Montreal, and they found work together in the woods of Northern Ontario.

Mom and Dad met Charlie before I was born, on one of their regular canoe trips deep into the wilderness. Charlie was sitting on a rock, by the river's edge, when their canoe came around a bend. I can still hear mom retelling the story...

"Tânisi," Marie cheerfully greeted the older man in the Cree language.

Charlie sat, open mouthed, unmoving.

"Are you on a pilgrimage?" Marie asked the frozen looking Native man, again in Cree.

The greeting is so similar in all of the area tongues, so the long pause, and still posture was very unnerving to the couple. The people that travel in these woods are always happy to greet any traveler, and they quickly offer strangers food and tobacco.

"We were very quiet, so maybe we surprised him?" Scott suggested from the stern of the canoe.

"You call that quiet?" Charlie asked in perfect English. "I could hear you when you splashed your canoe in the water at the put-in point. I could smell your aftershave at least five minutes before you came around the bend, and the birds have been telegraphing your progress for the last half hour."

"Please pardon our intrusion into your little piece of heaven," Marie explained. "We mean no disrespect, good Elder."

Charlie was enamored by the beauty of the white woman who spoke Cree so well. She looked so much like his eldest daughter that his spine tingled. Hair so dark that there might be some red or purple, but all light was captured by the long strands. Her skin was darker than most white women, but not quite as red as a sister of the woods. The face was so similar, that only the larger breasts and the vocal accent kept Charlie from jumping in the water to greet his beloved daughter, whom he had not seen in more than ten years. She handled the paddle so well too, reaching far out for a cross draw, she eddied the vessel into the shore, with her man swinging in closer to Charlie.

"Tânisi," Scott continued, "I am Scott Campbell, the new Superintendent at Witimaki Provincial Park, and this is my wife, Marie."

He paused long enough for the man to respond with his own name, had he wanted to give it. Charlie finally looked away from the woman, to interact with her husband.

"You are a lucky man, Forest Ranger," Charlie finally responded.

"Thank you." Scott switched to English, not wanting to make any mistakes in communication.

"They call me Charlie Whitefeather. Will you sit and have tea?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, I would love some tea!" Marie burst out. So the decision was made.

Charlie invited them to set up their tent and share his picturesque spot. He only had a tarp for a shelter, but at this time of year the insects were always a menace. They talked well into the night, sitting around a small but smokey fire, to keep the mosquitoes away.

"We have a small, poleless bug shelter in our safety pack, if you care to use it, Charlie."

Marie didn't want to intrude on the traditional ways of doing things, but the mosquitoes can be unbelievable on days without wind.

Charlie took the two man emergency shelter, and enjoyed a good night of sleep.

The next morning, Scott came out to the firepit early, expecting to be first, but Charlie already had a line in the water. So instead of fishing, Scott used his stick stove to make coffee, and then he put more water on, knowing that Marie would need at least another half hour. They had made love for hours, and Marie refused to be quiet about it. That had not stopped her insatiable husband.

Charlie brought four, good sized fish filets to the cooking pit.

"Would you and your wife join me?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, if you will have coffee with us," Scott replied as he put a few more sticks in his firebox.

Marie finally came from the tent, looking perfect. She came directly to their camp kitchen.

"Good morning, you two. You talk too much, and too loudly." She explained while trying to wipe the sleepiness away.

"Your husband should wake you up, the same way that you put him to bed, young lady." Charlie advised. "It is a good way to get your blood moving, and your appetite for breakfast will follow."

Scott looked over at his woman. "We will have to try that, Sir, but she is hard to waken."

"Perhaps you don't try hard enough," Marie challenged her handsome husband.

That ended the conversation, so they ate their fish and drank their coffee. Marie was pretty sure that she would be driven from her bed early in the morning, but thinking about it all day made her excited for the change.

Charlie asked if he could travel with them for a bit, so they all continued along the Carter River to Silver Lake. Charlie had a tattered canoe that he had salvaged after an adventure group took on more than they could handle. He explained how he was more than willing to fix it himself. He used a modern fishing pole too, also found at a portage or a campsite.

"White people have so many things that they become very lax in keeping track of them," he explained.

Scott had a particular bay in mind, where it would be easy to get to a logging road that crosses the region.

"I want to build a cabin here, Charlie," Scott explained. "Will the people of these lands be okay with that?"

"If you make a log cabin, and you don't disrupt the water or the creatures, then you will be accepted," Charlie responded. "I have some knowledge in cabin building and I know local people that can help," Charlie offered, and the conversation continued, until they had worked out the dimensions and the position of the cabin. The dock would be a central piece and there would be a fish cleaning station and a fire pit; racks for canoes to follow.

I drew my paddle through the cold stream, barely adding any influence to my speed, but keeping the little canoe in the vee of the small rapid. I knew the way so well that the canoe acted with a mind of its own. My patrons were also familiar with the area. To make my job even easier, I knew exactly what these men would expect from me. Some want the girlfriend experience, with lots of sex. Others will enjoy a spirited bedtime fuck, but not much more. I prefer the ones that are ready for sex whenever I want it, and that is three or four times per day, depending on the weather and the bugs.

"Let's see if they're biting at Dog Leg Rapids," Bishop called out from the back of their 17 foot canoe.

Earl responded from the bow. "Hey Loren, if you can wait for fishing until we get to that great camping spot on Red Fox Lake, I'll set up the camp, while you two go back to the rapids to fish."

"Then, I can follow the trail to the lookout, and from there I will have a good signal for the sat phone. I want to call home and find out how Cheryl did with her soccer game."

Earl had the kind of marriage that I could respect. An open and honest one. His wife, Sandy, enjoyed her own 'vacation time', but she preferred hot sandy beaches and Reggae music, in between saving turtles and cleaning plastic from the ocean. Earl loved the adventure and challenge of canoeing the boreal forests of Ontario. He and his friends had been some of Canoe Soo's first customers, six years ago.

Loren helped Bishop to unload the last of the gear at the campsite, but they kept the fishing gear and a water flask for their side adventure to a fishing hole.

"You can see them!" Bishop shouted, while pointing at the flashing silhouettes in the fast moving water.

"The question is... Can we get them to bite?" I replied, searching in the tackle box for a light, grassy morsel that they might find desirable.

Bishop cast out a short flip into an eddie, pulling it back in an unnatural way. I liked to think more about how I presented her the lure. First you must attract your victim. I moved to a position where I could pull my lure into the current; like a cricket or a grasshopper if it got caught in a fall. The brook trout had to change direction to get to it, but they are fast. It caught my lure, and I set it with a tug.

We put out a stringer, hoping that we could catch one or two more; when one is hungry, they all are.

"I need to cool down, Bishop," I explained as I kicked out of my dry shoes.

The swim trunks followed, but Bishop enjoyed the wiggle of my ass as I stretched the panty down my legs. I stepped carefully into the fast moving water, then I got low, and crab walked into a torrent of cascading water. I lay back into it, letting the water flow over my overheated body. My nipples sparkled in the light whenever the flow exposed them. Finally he lowered his own shorts, being careful with his erect cock. The cold water would tame that boner quickly, but our embrace momentarily revived it, at least in spirit. Bishop followed his beautiful guide into the chaos of the maelstrom. He squeezed in next to me and we spooned while he massaged my ample bosom and we smooched. He said that he wished that he could do this every day, but he had to be satisfied with two weeks every year.

After a while I realized that there could be no sex in the cold river. We made love on the grass next to our fishing spot, letting our bodies dry with the breeze, which thankfully kept the flying vermin away.

I was the first one to jump up and grab the thinner pole for fishing, so Bishop reluctantly joined me.

An hour passes fast when the fish are aggressively biting.

"Should I wait till we are at camp to filet these?" Bishop asked as we got back to the canoe, for the short trip.

He would have cleaned them right there, keeping the odors from our camping area. A bear's sense of smell is their greatest advantage in the forest. Their noses can detect fish guts from miles away if the wind is right.

"Better if you wait for camp, sexy man. You know that I'm going to need a few minutes with Earl, especially if he was able to talk to his wife."

I try to be aware of my Patron's needs, that is why they come back year after year, paying twice what any other guide charges. Plus, Earl was a very talented lover.

Just the sight of a well maintained camp made me horny again, so I took

Earl's hand and pulled him into the tent, while Bishop fed another log to the fire.

Bishop had been in this exact spot before. He enjoyed listening to his friends. Moaning, kissing, the slap of their bodies, then deeper moans and groans and finally the heat of their passion, brought delightful movements of the tent and, of course, a vocal climax.

"I hope you don't mind that I was thinking about Sandy the whole time," Earl whispered into my ear as we relaxed in each other's arms, post coitus.

"Of course you do, my Stud Muffin. You love her." I explained with no apology. "Just don't tell her that you're thinking of me when you're making love to her. That would be a bad conversation my dear boy."

My stomach made a gurgling sound, reminding me of my hunger.

"Okay, let's give Bishop a hand, he probably has those fish ready for the pan."

Earl had been dismissed, but he didn't sulk about it. The three of us enjoyed a good meal as I got caught up on their personal lives. I don't read emails or watch my phone for messages about going to the mall or how good a tv show was. I am in the woods with no wifi, no tv, no cell service except for the occasional message in regards to foul weather or real emergencies. Our business is based and serviced at the Witimaki Outfitters Store, where Paulee would answer the phones and emails, and make plans for our upcoming canoe trips. Paulee was shaping up quite nicely as a trip planner. He was in constant communication with his Uncle Tom, one of the original owners of our canoe outfitting and guide business. Paulee was only 23, but he had a fiancee; a local girl that I knew nothing about, but they went camping together, so I feel confident that they are becoming close in a healthy way.

The twins would be taking four men to James Bay over the next 3 weeks. They were both trying to get pregnant, and each of the four men were intent on being the father. We didn't expect a problem with scheduling, the two sisters intended on having their babies in the winter, and be back on the water for spring, with an elder woman of their tribe watching their offspring.

These men were hand picked by the ladies, with an eye to all of their attributes. They had no problem with the extreme cost of the adventure. They would be okay with doing all of the camp building, food prep, clean up, and tear down. The twins would push them through the lakes and rivers. They would do their part on the rugged portages, but once they were at camp, they were in the tents with a willing and eager lover.

"Let's get some more dry wood to leave for the next group," Bishop announced. I love these men. We trained them well.

If it wasn't for the small pile of dry wood and kindling that we try to leave near the fire pit, there would be no indication of our passing through. Zero impact camping was our code. The small stash would be welcome when the next campers got here.

We spent the day moving on fast water or portaging around falls. There were few surprises on this familiar course, so we didn't have to scout ahead. We trusted our skills to surpass the challenges, and they did.

"So how is business, Loren? Are your schedules full again?" Bishop wondered.

"Covid did slow us down, but we kept in touch with our regulars, and I had to spend that one dreadful winter here instead of Ecuador, but we don't have a lot of overhead, so we did fine."

That explained our fast rebound from an international pandemic that hurt our competitors a lot more than it did us.

"We were able to use our off time to repair equipment and establish some good, local connections."

We had used the slow time to show our accountant and our lawyer exactly what we do as a business. We also took the time to visit our competitors and let them know that they could use our docks and our parking area for free. We want other, regular guides to thrive. We care about them too.

"We took our business advisors out on a week-long trip with me and two of our guides, Summer and Autumn Storm. We gave them the entire 'Camping with your Girlfriend' experience, and they are confident that they can keep us legal with our taxes, and in good standing with the Better Business Bureau."

"Ahha. Did Charlie's granddaughters enjoy their time with those two nerds?" Earl asked, since he knows Jim Falkner, my lawyer and my accountant, Ted Saunders. I told them about the nerds meeting our twin adventure guides.

"All those girls wanted to do was fish and fuck. So Jim and Ted became very good at fileting pike and trout, in between being used as a fuck toy."

Both of the guys roared with laughter. They had traveled with the Storm sisters, and they knew how insatiable they could both be when they had fresh meat! It was like they were in a competition to see who could draw out the most cum.

"I bet that their jaws were hurting too," Earl suggested with a knowing smile.

We got to the North end of the narrow lake and immediately set to the task of portaging over Hunchback Ridge and down to the valley. The trail went up about 20 meters over the first bit but then it descended for over a hundred meters over the next half kilometer. We were forced to take our time and make sure of our footing. In a few spots we had to help each other with the canoes and the heavy food pack.

We had a simple, cold lunch at the put-in, then continued down the river, with a slight breeze at our backs. I was traveling on instinct while meditating. All three of us guides were on a fast track to retirement. Most of our profits and wages went into savings, with sound budgets kept for the upkeep of our docks and equipment.

Ted had our money in the most secure places with slow but steady growth. He also knew that our needs were small. We could retire at 35 if we found good guides to take our place in our thriving business. Men were crying to be included in our adventures, but we had a firm rule of 2 to 1. With that ratio we felt that everyone should be satisfied.

I don't know what the Storm sisters are planning for their futures. They seemed to be inseparable, but they did enjoy sharing their male friends with each other. Their men are very devoted to both of them.

Lake Chamois has cliffs that everyone jumps from. There are places with 6 foot leaps and another area with 20 foot drops, but they all end with the deep cold waters of Lake Chamois. Here we troll for the big lake trout, pike and muskellunge. The muskie could be 30 pounds! With a vast interconnected wetland ecosystem they could grow them to monster sizes.

We broke out the larger lures and I switched to the double paddle for a faster pace. The current is negligible here, but the wind will often insist that you travel in a specific direction. I crossed the deepest part of the lake with 4 ounces on a double split with carbon leaders; I would be trailing two lures running side by side. I had to get my little canoe moving fast, before dropping the lures into the flow that I had created, then I sped up, to keep them running about 60 feet below me. I could feel the weights trying to bring the lures lower, but my rapid passage kept them bee bopping along in the deep water.

I would only get one pass, since the wind made a return passage too costly in effort, at least for now.

Fifteen minutes later I had nothing but an overheated body. I figured that it was time for a jump. Earl and Bishop had also trolled but they didn't go deep. They had also been skunked. Sometimes the fish are just not hungry.

I found a section of the lake with high cliffs and carefully scouted the water from my canoe, but I could see that it was at least 30 feet to the bottom. I secured my craft on shore and walked the path that thousands of people have used over thousands of years. I wondered how many have enjoyed the simple pleasures of jumping off of these cliffs, then making love on the warm granite ledges. It is the most natural thing on earth.

I checked to make sure some goof or a moose wasn't below me, then I ran like I was on fire and lept as far out as I could; still running in the air, like a cartoon character. I screamed with delight, like I was 12 again.