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[The following article contains explicit language]
It’s 2011. My brother Ted and I are paddling hard into driving rain and headwinds. It’s early September in interior Labrador, and our group of four is catching the tail end of Hurricane Irene. Starving hungry, soaked, and cold, we pull over to make camp, and the rain doesn’t let up. It’s getting dark, and we’re starting to shiver. It’s Day 22, our stove broke 17 days ago and we need warm food and hot tea. Amazingly, my spirits are high; I can’t speak for the rest of the crew though.
“Maybe we just set up the tents and crawl into bed,” my buddy Marty voices with a tinge of fear.