It’s 1:22AM and I can’t sleep so why not write a blog post!
This story is a true account and takes place in the border region between Southern Ontario and Northern Minnesota. It was the culmination of a 9 day canoe trip with a crew of good friends and good weather and occurred almost two decades ago.
We were paddling and portaging our way back to civilization and had started before dawn that day. The weather was cooperating and we were making good time as a good crew usually does after a length of time together. A rythym develops and the miles glide by as the trip progresses. Dennis was my paddling partner that day; together we had taught over a hundred people how to paddle a canoe and had been bringing people up to this area for quite awhile to experience the true Wilderness. And it was rare that we were able to paddle together in the same canoe, seeing as how we both preferred to paddle in the stern position and in fact had a derogatory name for the bow position paddler. Or rather, we each generally had a somewhat less experienced paddler in the front of our canoes.
On one particular portage we had stopped for a quick break since we hadn’t seen another soul all morning. Normally we follow canoeing etiquette and do not loiter at a portage but either haul up short and take a break in our canoes, or power through and rest in our canoes on the other side of the portage. For those not familiar with what a portage is, it is a trail over land that connects two bodies of water together and usually is there to bypass an obstacle such as a boulder-strewn section of river or some such hazard that is detrimental to both canoe and paddler. In short, you beach your canoe, unload all of your gear and carry it all over the portage to the landing on the other side, reload all the gear and continue on.
Dennis and I decided to take a look at the top section of river next to the portage and for some unknown reason decided that we would skip the portage and paddle the river instead. Mind you that we didn’t conduct a full reconnaisance to see what obstacles were lying in our path but with cocksure impudence, declared to all, that this was nothing and that we were wasting our time on a trivial portage and that we were paddling through.
The rest of the crew stood silently and merely blinked at our declaration. They shouldered the gear packs and began the portage as they had done on every previous portage that day. Dennis said “Aw hell, we got this” and we shoved off and paddled the canoe into position to begin our run. The only obstacle we had seen was a small waterfall with a drop of about 2 feet, nothing we couldnt handle.
I suppose that I should explain some of our equipment at this point. Our canoe was an 18ft kevlar canoe with a hull thickness of maybe an eighth of an inch. They are built to be light and agile and are designed for paddling the northern lakes region. Our paddles were made of wood and were bent shafts, again, designed for efficiency when paddling aforementioned lakes. Not one single piece of our gear was designed to withstand whitewater paddling. Sounds like a brilliant plan huh? Except there wasn’t a plan! We had looked at the map and simply declared we were going from Point A to Point B by the “easiest route” which was the river.
Dennis and I sailed over the first little drop and were laughing at the “suckers” who took the portage rather than listen to us. We cruised through the fast water section and were “living the high life” and were all smiles until the river made an abrupt turn and careened over a 6 foot waterfall! I remember being at the top of the waterfall for just a brief second with my eyes bugged out and trying desperately to tell Dennis what was ahead, but the cacophony of noise was too loud for him to hear me and things were happening too fast anyway. Maybe I’m dreaming it, but I’m pretty sure I heard Dennis yell, “We don’t got this!” But down we go with the bow of the canoe and myself being driven completely under water, gear floating up around my ears and the canoe protesting loudly to the punishment. I’m trying to hold onto my paddle and stay “somewhat” in the canoe. At that point the river made an immediate hard right turn followed by another two foot drop. And yes, some of the gear made it through before we did! Had you taken a measuring tape and figured out the length that all of this took place in, I can guarantee you that somehow we managed to get an 18 foot canoe through a 16 foot section of rock and river. I chalked it up to Dennis being in the stern which was several feet higher than the bow!
Nothing like being humbled by an experience akin to being stuck inside a washing machine. We weren’t smiling or laughing anymore, rather we looked like wet rats as we quietly gathered up all of the gear floating around us and stowed them back inside the water-laden canoe. Somehow this “quick and easy run” had taken longer than we were aware of because when the river squirted us out the other side, the whole crew was standing there waiting for us. The only words spoken were from Doug who was standing at the portage landing and waiting for us shouted…”are you two done screwing around or what?” In unison, Dennis and I lowered our eyes and sheepishly said, “yes sir” as we beached the canoe and began emptying all of the water out and re-stowing the gear.
And of course, being young men on an adventure, the lesson in humility lasted about a mile of paddling. I remember turning my head to look back at Dennis and we both broke out into huge grins and nodded to each other and continued the trip in knowing silence. Life was good!
Looking back, I am amazed that we didn’t destroy that fragile canoe and the disaster that would have caused. The first rule of Wilderness Paddling is that you ALWAYS take the portage, the second rule is to NEVER jeopardize the canoe or your paddle in any way.
“Do as I say, not as I do!”
Velox Seeker 