Just a Mite too Confident

by David Ivens

It all started innocently enough. I could see the weather was terrible driving up to Parry Sound. I arrived at White Squall and talked with a few friends and met a member of GLSKA and everyone concurred it was a day to stay on shore and read a book. Of course sitting in Parry Sound or Killbear Park wasn’t as attractive as sitting on an island and watching the weather go by. So when Johanna got there we decided to go on to Dillon and see what was in store for us. When we got there we heard a tale on the dock that a few boats that had been out and wanted nothing to do with the bay; but with those three-story plastic enclosed towers you can understand why. We listened to the forecast, chance of thunderstorms, waterspouts and a small craft warning. A lot to worry about, lots of caution on shore, but heck, storms have gone through before. It was supposed to clear late tonight; we could go out and stick our noses in the wind check the waves and see what we wanted to do; it was early (3 p.m.) so there was lots of daylight; things might change; we could poke, rock hop, bob and weave along the shore. It was a couple of kilometres out to the bay and there’s a little island with a sandy beach before we would make the crossing to Twin Sisters, where we could camp if the winds too strong, or we didn’t like what we saw. The first part wasn’t difficult, winds were out of the north so going down the channel was fine, no lightening, a couple of places with a good cross wind but clearing maybe, still gray but windy.

So, we decided to island hop, to the Twin Sisters, on the inside, which was a mistake as we soon realized the wind was funneling down and really blowing on that side so we headed farther out on the bay. We were questioning whether we were making headway, so Johanna got out the GPS and we were making 3.5 to 4 km/h so it was an effort, but we were up for some exercise and we had taken the day off work. The wind was strong the waves were over the bows, but it was invigorating if you were into it, and there was no sign of squalls. We got to the north tip of Twin Sisters and headed for Colley, a hop in normal conditions. We were close and could see a storm front coming in. We put in an effort to get there quickly, but we were already paddling at a quickened pace to get 3.5 km/h. Shore was less than 50 metres away when the rain started and it didn’t take any time for everything else to happen too. The rain hurt. The wind picked up, it tried to rip the paddle right out of your hands and the boat off the water. The water came from everywhere, sheets of water lifted off the lake, down from the sky, and the direction changed almost 180 degrees. You couldn’t see a thing, there was so much water; I did not know where Johanna was, I had to concentrate on myself, trying to make headway and keeping the boat facing the wind, it took every ounce of strength I had to keep the boat upright and moving. I was completely out of breath. I hadn’t managed the 50 metres; I might have been farther away after it passed. No lightning. We were lucky. Johanna was not far off. We both stayed upright and kept the boats in about the same position.

I have never paddled when I could not rescue my paddling partner, it’s one of my rules. This time I got caught, too confident, too anxious, peer pressure? Anyway I don’t like breaking my own rules. But if you hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have known and if you had seen it on shore and watched it go by you might not have thought a lot of it. And, if you were out in another craft, well you probably would have been blown wherever the wind took you. But kayaks can do pretty amazing things. The adrenalin ran for hours. It was not something I would recommend and not something I want to repeat; it just wasn’t my time or Johanna’s. And now I know I have paddled when I shouldn’t have and am a little wiser for it. How many lemons did we have? More than we realized.