When the Water Ends | Carry the Canoe
- Apr 22
- 1 min read
Updated: Apr 30
There’s a word canoe travelers use in the north woods—portage.
You glide across a lake, rhythm steady, paddle dipping clean, and then suddenly—the water ends.
The map says keep going. So you step out.
You flip the canoe onto your shoulders. You feel the weight settle in. And you walk.
Life does that.
One minute you’re moving smooth, everything clicking, breath and motion in sync. Then the shoreline rises in front of you and there’s no way through but over.
No drama. No collapse.
Just lift it and go.
As the proverb reminds us,
“To know the road ahead, ask those coming back.”
Someone has carried this before. Someone knows the water returns.
So you move.
One step.
Then another.
Pine needles under your feet. Shoulders working.
Balance adjusting with every uneven root and rock. It’s not about forcing it. It’s about staying steady while you carry what you once floated in.
And then it happens. The trees open. The ground softens.
You see it again—that next stretch of water waiting like nothing ever stopped. You lower the canoe. You slide it back in. And just like that, you’re gliding.
The rhythm isn’t broken.
It never was.
We don’t avoid the portage. We don’t rush the water.
We learn the swing—lift, walk, launch.
Not too far into the grind.
Not too far into the chaos.
Just a steady back-and-forth between effort and ease.
Between every two lakes, there’s a trail.
When the water ends, carry the canoe.
See you on the trail → 🐾
“Do the thing and you will have the power.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
