Whatever Floats Your Fanny

Yesterday was Float Your Fanny Down The Ganny - a race that brings out the wild side of sleepy little Port Hope, Ontario - and the usual hijinx and hilarity ensued.

Molly and I didn't bother much with the craziness.

We chatted cheerfully with the canoeists and kayakers launching in the village of Canton. Then we paddled in leisurely fashion along the s-curves of the babbling Ganaraska River, all the way down to Port Hope.

Molly was even kind enough to paddle solo under the bridges, so I could serenade the locals with some ukulele tunes.

The Ganny's a charming little river until you get right into downtown Port Hope, at which point it gets gnarly enough that only serious whitewater canoeists and madcap crazy craft crews dare to proceed.

To the disapproval of the hundreds of gawkers gathered along the bank,  we pulled out of the river in time to save both our relationship and our canoe from near-certain destruction.

(Those who don't dare run the river are rather keen on witnessing the dramatic demolition of those who do.)

The streets of downtown Port Hope were packed, but there was plenty of parking for two paddlers to put a canoe, and to dry out a few wet items while watching the crazier folk brave the rapids.

Here's to the first river run of springtime, and to the community spirit of the people of Port Hope.

And here's to enjoying the great outdoors the sane way, the crazy way, the sedentary way, or whatever way floats your fanny down the rushing rivers of your sweet life.