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Chop Chop

At 16 I canoed down the Albany River to Hudson Bay.  One early evening, setting up camp, I went to chop firewood.  It had been raining and my razor sharp ax glanced off of a tree and buried itself into my left ankle.  We were 100s of miles from the nearest town.  The section head had to sew up the wound with a fishing hook and fishing line, he gave me a stick to bite on so I wouldn't scream.  My best friend carved a cane for me whole the rest of the group looked on.  The scar is wide.  It was a great summer, 1,200 miles of whitewater.  
ElLagarto ElLagarto 56-60, M 3 Responses Jul 16, 2007

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It's the psychic scars you need to worry about.

At least he didn't make you bite the bullet. That would be sooo cliche!

*makes mental note to check for scar in two-and-a-half weeks* ;)