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I pointed to the region north of Lake Winnipeg, where we would encounter treacherous white water and long stretches of wilderness. I also explained how we would have to be particularly mindful of polar bears.

“Oh, hell no, bro,” he cried, “I ain’t going into no polar bear territory. That ain’t even close to how I’m going out. You for reals?”

I assured him I was, and went to the computer to search polar bears. The first listing was a polar bear fact sheet. Up came a colorful page from Ranger Rick magazine, illustrated with endangered species from around the world: a mountain gorilla bared his teeth and pounded his chest, a komodo dragon swiped the air with its razor-sharp claw, and a massive polar bear stalked a field of snow and ice.

José leaped back from the screen and backed away to the far side of the living room, shouting, “Hell no. Hell no. I ain’t canoeing through no jungle with dragons and gorillas. Oh, fuck no. Are you insane, dawg? I ain’t going.”

I laughed aloud at the notion that these equatorial creatures would haunt our northern journey, then promised that there would be no gorillas or dragons, and that, in the unlikely event we were attacked by a polar bear, I would fill said predator with all the lead at my disposal. José seemed appeased for the most part, and we agreed again on the date of our departure, just a few days away.