Whisper of pine trees; lapping of waters;
Echoing softly a bird’s plaintive cry
Pastel shades of a Rice Lake sunrise;
Bow your heads, for God passeth by.

After packing our wet blankets we made an early start along the lake toward the Otonabee River. The Otonabee we found to be a very picturesque, winding river and in spite of the blazing sun we en­joyed paddling along its reaches. At noon we were fortunate enough to stop at a fair sized wharf where we soon dried our wet blankets on the hot boards.

We had determined to make Peterborough by night so paddled steadily onward. Each boat or dock we passed we hailed and asked, “How far is it to Peterborough ?” The first one we asked told us definitely that it was ten miles. After paddling for about three miles we were told that Peterborough was twelve miles away. It began to appear as though either our engines were in reverse or else Peterborough were built on a floating island.

Things do eventually come to an end, and so, hot, scorched and tired we pulled ourselves out at a boathouse in the beautiful city of Peterborough at 5 o’clock. Ralph had kept up our spirits with the hope that he might induce the physical director of the “Y” to let us sleep in the ’gym’ on the mats for the night.

This would mean a night free from mosquitoes. He also said that the cook wanted a night off and that we would all go to a restaurant for supper. With sore muscles, wobbly knees, sunburned shoulders and baked lips we emerged on the civilized streets of Peterborough. Our appearance was far from being admirable but what cared we, for had we not the aroma of a meal in our nostrils and the thoughts of a mosquitoless sleep to fill our thoughts?

YMCA blotter

The Peterborough ”Y” had just had several thousand dollars used on it and certainly showed it off to ad­vantage. The rotunda looked more like the lobby of a high class hotel than that of a Y.M.C.A. The officials were exceedingly courteous to us, allowing us to have a hot shower and dip before retiring on the mats in the gym. We were all tired out and It was not many minutes ere we were enjoying (as Shakespeare puts it):

---- the Innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.
[Macbeth, Act 2, Scene 2]