You know, it's been some time since I uploaded any pictures of myself. Thus, I give you this one. This is what I look like through the eyes of a nine year old. Or rather, this is the look you'd get if you decided to play with my camera, and "play" meant "take a million pictures of people regardless of whether they want their picture taken or not". Sooner or later, you'd see my tongue. It's a natural reaction. After all, Jim - who is the grandfather of Kchina, the nine year old in question - had much the same expression (but far better hair) in his portrait. Steve 
pretended to be absorbed in something over his shoulder. Leeann just went about her merry way and brushed her teeth regardless - I could do an instructional storyboard on teeth brushing from that series alone. Allyson posed her hand for some great shots (amazingly enough, she didn't position her fingers in any rude sort of manner). Julie's portrait expressed a sentiment that could best be called "get away from me". I suppose it's a small mercy that Kachina didn't venture toward the thunderbox with the camera. There was a lot of deleting to be done - most of the pictures were out of focus or just really really unfortunate angles, making incredibly lovely people look either a) much fatter than they are; b) much older than they are; c) much crankier than they are; d) like you'll be reading about them in the paper soon; e) shiny; or f) stoned. You'll understand that I won't be uploading most of these - see, I kind of lilike these people, and want to kayak with them again. These pictures would probably not make me very popular.
Last weekend I joined a whole lot of people - more names than I can remember, unfortunately - on the first ever (to my knowledge) GLSKA new members' trip. Keith and I came up with this one at the AGM last fall, after we realized just how many potentially cool new paddling buddies we may have missed meeting because we were on so many trips that were declared "full" by the organizers. Rather than leave it up to chance this year, we decided we'd simply make sure we met some new people by organizing a trip for them - and we pulled Jim in as an additional trip leader when it looked like our idea was well received. Our regular paddling associates were *not invited*. (If you have a problem with this approach, great! I strongly encourage you to organize another new members' trip - given how many people came out to this one, during bug season, when the weather was kind of crap, I suspect you will have no shortage of bodies. Just saying.)
We went to Sharpe Island in Massassauga Park. I think of Massassauga as Georgian Bay Lite - you have the Bay, but you're pretty sheltered. The water here is warmer than in most other parts of the Bay, which is always good for a trip in June. Massassauga lets you reserve sites, thus guaranteeing us a spot that was big enough for all of us. I booked the sites. Keith did everything else. Including leading the first - and biggest - group of trippers out there on Friday. I met my group on Saturday morning at Moon River Marina, and Jim and Kachina paddled back from Sharpe Island to help lead the group out. This was a very, very good thing. See, conditions were about as miserable as you can get if a) you have not paddled much; or b) your rudder is out of commission. I was in the latter category. And this time, I didn't manage to fix it with a trusty leatherman. I had to just suck it up and do a lot of corrective strokes with a wicked crosswind. This was ok, though, since Jim was paddling sweep (I can deal with no rudder in wind, but not if I also have to look out for other paddlers!) Besides, my hull tracks notoriously straight. Julie was not so fortunate - the rudder on her rental boat also did not want to cooperate, and it being a rental boat she didn't have the familiarity with the hull as I do with mine (and her boat does not have the same tracks like it's on rails characteristics as mine), so she really struggled until Jim pulled us over and managed to fix her steering. Still, it was a tough slog into the wind. We spent a lot of time hanging out behind islands so the group could, well, *re*group.
But no matter! Because we made it to Sharpe Island (Keith's group was out on a daytrip to Wreck Island). When we got there, we felt more like eating soup and less like paddling some more. Or maybe that's just me, and I'm lazy - but I did strip off anything that involved latex cuffs and fired up my stove. Which prompted a whole new round of dragonfly-bashing, just because it's *noisy*. It may be noisy, but it does not deserve this abuse. 
Have you considered that I am a morning grouch and really quite like the option of turning up my stove while waiting for my coffee water to boil? Presto, instant "don't talk to me". Furthermore, my stove simmers. Keith's does too - see how well it simmers if you lift the pan a few inches above the burner. Jim, who is one of the most vocal critics of the jet engine sound I like to create, was out of fuel for his stove. You can imagine my utter delight at offering my stove for his cooking needs! Finally! Not only would he have to eat his words along with his usual spam (you can't diss the stove that just cooked your dinner!), but he'd actually see just what a great stove it is. And, you know, to give Jim credit... by the end of the weekend, he was seriously considering adding a dragonfly to his kit. And at some point in the afternoon/evening, two of the guys fixed my rudder and became my heroes.
So, it wasn't a very tough camping trip. We did a lot of sitting, and there was even cake. And the next morning, all but *three* people chose to depart with Keith, and one of them was Jim (who has to hang out with me. He was using my stove. Plus, he's kind of used to me, after all these long trips we've done). I didn't bother feeling rejected, though - after all, Jim and I were left with two of the strongest paddlers in the group, Terry and Steve. And we went out to Wreck Island and wandered the interpretive trail, and then we played in a bit bigger water - just a taste of the Bay, enough to make me very glad my rudder was functional again - and then we found the wreck that gives Wreck Island its name before heading in. For me, this part of the weekend was the best - some good paddling, and I didn't have to search my brain for a name every time I was talking to someone. But hopefully, I'll see all of these people again, and I won't be going over my mental association checklist before opening my mouth - their names will just pop out!