I’m not a perfect canoe tripper. I’ve sat on my life jacket at the campsite, used my bailer bucket as a pee bottle, stuck the blade of my paddle in the sand, and pitched my tent under a gnarly dead tree. I’ve mocked someone else’s gear, giggled at skinny dippers, and—some might say this is worst of all—for many years, I paddled with the goon stroke rather than a proper J. Gasp. These weren’t immoral acts. They were errors in judgment and holes in knowledge, and I’ve learned from my bad…
