On New Year's Day we went to a friend's house. One of their new inventions was snow canoeing.
While we were in the canoe it felt as if we were flying at a minimum of 120 miles per hour though afterwards they told us it was more like 40-50.
Fortunately the canoe only flipped once and everyone was fine, although Gillian had had enough after that. (Note: the guy in the front of the canoe is watching for iceburgs.)
Notice the kid hanging onto the back.
He fell off.
There is nothing like whisking through the frigid air and puffs of snow in a canoe dragged by a snowmobile.