Location Of Rivers

Location Of Rivers

“No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and Hidden strength.”

Jack Kerouac

"It's not down any map, true places never are"

Herman Melville

Below I've included maps with the approximate locations of rivers mentioned in this blog to help readers unfamiliar with Ontario or perhaps even Canada navigate the tales. Within the body of the blog & sidebar, one can find links to both Ontario road maps as well as topographical map distributors. I have also Included them a the bottom of this post for added convenience. When available, the preferred topographical map scale was 1:50,000 as opposed to the 1:250,000 for they showed much greater detail which assisted in pinpointing our location and in calculating exact distance travelled each day. Remember, these trips were pre GPS etc.

Locations Of Rivers Mentioned in this Blog
(Partial Satellite View of Ontario Including Great Lakes)
(Click Map To Enlarge)

1) Albany River
2) Kabinakagami & Kenogami Rivers
3) Missinaibi River
4) Mattagami River
5) Abitibi River
6) Kamiskotia River
7) Mississagi River
8) Spanish River
9) French River
10) Restoule River
11) Magnetawan River
12) Ottawa River
13) Mississippi River
14) Saugeen River
15) Maitland River
16) Thames River
17) Grand River
*) Moose River (Combined flow of Missinaibi, Mattagami & Abitibi Rivers)
(Lake Nipissing Just Left of #10 of Map Of Rivers)

Map Of Canada Showing Location Of The Province Of Ontario

Additional Map Sources;
Ontario Road Maps - Ontario Ministry of Transportation
Federal Maps - Topographical Map Source (Toronto)
Canada Map Office - Topographical Maps (Ottawa)

"A Roadmap always tells you everything except how to refold it"

Anonymous

My Whiskey Dog Morning

My Whiskey Dog Morning

“a mischievous dog must be tied short”

~Italian Proverb

“A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of”

~Ogden Nash

The morning light impatiently rushed past me into the ever widening crack beneath my rising garage door. There, in the midst of the usual household clutter stood a soggy mound of canvas piled high with camping gear. The blackened set of cookware, my coleman lantern, a propane stove, axe and my nylon tent, skewered by protruding fibreglass tent poles - all lashed together by a partially unravelled skein of nylon cord. Leaning against the pile were my criss-crossed canoe paddles, which mockingly formed an 'X' to mark the spot of my morning's upcoming labours.

Having returned from yet another canoe trip, I stared at the task before me, knowing that the trip is never complete until my gear is dried, cleaned, sorted, repaired and stored for the following season.

Scratches and snorts at the inside door told me that my dog ‘Whiskey’ was eager to join in the fun and have a sniff at what exotic odours I may have brought back for him, still trapped within that festering heap.

Clipping a rather lengthy leash to his collar, I secured the opposite end to the bumper of my car thereby giving Whiskey full reign of the front yard while I moved items in and out of the garage.

It wasn’t long before unrecognizable sounds of commotion began to drift from the yard. Strolling out of the garage to investigate, I was horrified to see that Whiskey had a large bag of fertilizer grasped firmly between his jaws and with each shake of the head, was flinging the contents wildly about the lawn. A second bag, contents already expended, lay limp at his paws. With my panicked shouts, Whiskey dropped the bag and approached with wagging tail and rather pleased look. Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, I unhitched Whiskey from the lead and marched him back indoors where, no doubt, my ‘hound from hell’ would find other items to destroy.

Fearful that the grass would be burned beyond repair, I dropped to my knees and attempted to scoop the mounds of pellets back into the bag. Realizing that recovering the thousands of beads that lay scattered across my yard by hand was futile, an idea came to mind. Retreating to the garage I plugged in my upright floor vacuum cleaner and began running it back and forth over the grass still peppered with pellets. Continuous clicks and pings coming from the housing convinced me the technique worked and had me break out in a wide grin.

A few astonished neighbours slowed as they drove by, observing my vacuuming of the front lawn, unsure of what to make of my puzzling behaviour. Still sporting my silly grin, as I pushed the vacuum to and fro, I tried to explain actions by shouting back~

“It’s because of Whiskey!”

That inadequate statement sure gave the neighbourhood something to talk about for the next year!

Cheers!

The Infamous Whiskey Dog

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