NDP drum circle, geocaches and being lost in the woods at 2:00 AM. . oh yeah D3

So yesterday Laura (read post on housemate 1 year ago) and I went geocaching.  If you don't know what that is go to http://www.geocaching.com .  Anyway we did a couple of local easy caches and then went to this tent set up by the boathouse down on Gordon street and what did we find?  Local NDP candidate Tom King, reader and writer of CBC's Dead Dog Cafe, in a drum circle with two other indians, and federal candidate Jack Leyton.  They rocked the house.  Naomi Klein, author of No Logo, was there too to speak.  I'm voting NDP cause they're real humans and I don't like voting for robots.  Robots lie.  Thank you NDP for caring about the same stuff I do.  After the drum circle and some rousing words by Jack and Tom about the future of Canada, not to mentiona  stirring speech by Naomi, there was a celtic band and some dancing, where Guelph's finest earthy crunchies danced in jubilant circles to some great live music.  Nice vibe.  After dinner, Laura and I decided it was time to do a third geocache.  One about 20 minutes away, designed to be done in the dark.  With headlanp, GPS and water, we walked about 2.5 k of paths, 1 k or so of the wrong path with 500 slow metres of bushwack, before finding the location we sought. Some mastermind had set up an elaboate sequence of tiny thumbnail sized reflectors along a lonely path way in the woods.  We were to follow specific patterns of them till we found a birdhouse with another sequence inside, which represented a code to be interpreted as coordinates, which when put together would reveal the final location of the cache.  Some of the reflectors had fallen off and the trails led into inky darkness with just the orange light polluted sky of the GTA to illuminate the leering trees. . . it was creepy, kind of cool, and pretty exhausting around 1:45 to realise this puzzle had probably been sabotaged or just broken down on its own, cause we could find no birdhouses. . .  balls.  So we tracked back and drove home.  Here is day 3 of the Moisie. 

D3

                We cross the border into Newfoundland and Labrador.  A lady in a Wal-Mart is the first person I talk to in this province and I grin from ear to ear as I hear her accent call me “My love”.  The stories are true.  I leave without the long underwear I came for, but I’d love to come back.  Stan backs the bus into a muddy put in at the end of 35 k of dirt road outside the limits of 

Lab city.  We put in and the sky turns grey and stays that way.  We paddle until a marsh, and a leg swallowing slog through a wetland crosses the height of land between the arctic and atlantic watersheds and gets us back into Quebec.  Headwinds slow us down and we camp late.  Dinner at 1:00 AM sucks.