November 1, 2008 was a clear, crisp fall day in Fredericton. The sun was shining, and a light wind broke the few remaining leaves loose from their trees. I thought it was a great day for some canoeing. Rachelle had other plans, but I knew Mom would enjoy getting out for a few hours on the Keswick River. We would dress warmly and bring along some sandwiches. We'd be back within three hours, tops.
We spent a few minutes searching for a good place to put in, and eventually settled on a spot just beneath the bridge on Tripp Settlement Road. This particular stretch of the Keswick looks like a piece of ribbon candy from above, so although the drive from put-in to take-out was only 10 km, we were looking at roughly 3 hours of paddling to cover the 25 km in the water. The water was nice and fast from all the recent rain we'd had.
Mom was in front and I was in the rear, steering. It was a challenge to get the canoe around some of the turns in the fast current. There were numerous switchbacks and even the odd shallow spot which kept us on guard. It seemed that there were ducks in the water around every turn, and they would take flight upon seeing us. After a few hours, we stopped the canoe at a rocky beach and ate our sandwiches.
It seemed like we were so close to the take-out spot. The water was moving quite fast. To make it home on time, we set out once again. After about ten minutes, I was beginning to wonder how many more bends in the river there would be until our take-out spot. Once we were on a straight stretch in the river, I took my GPS out and figured that it would be...roughly....
"Oh dear, look out!" Mom shouted.
I looked up and right in front of me was a branch - too thick to simply push out of the way. Too close to duck down and avoid it. My first instinct was to lean to the side to avoid it clothes-lining me. Before we knew it, the canoe had capsized, and Mom and I were up to our necks in the near-freezing water.
As I scrambled to process what had just happened, Mom calmly said, "O.K. We're wet, but we just have to get the canoe to the shore." Her composure was remarkable.
We struggled to pull the swamped vessel to shore and tip it over to drain it. The whole while I was frantically looking around for my GPS, which had been resting on my lap when we performed the "Eskimo Roll". I was very relieved to find it sitting in the bottom of the canoe under a foot of water. Once we got it drained, we realized that we'd lost one of the paddles. In all the commotion, it calmly floated on. I ran a short way down the shore looking for it. It was gone.
We were freezing, standing in the wind, our clothes soaked through. We got back in the boat, and I paddled and steered us the remaining few kilometres to the car.
With the boat pulled ashore, and the car turned on, we cranked the heat up and tried to get the circulation in our limbs flowing again. It was unpleasant leaving the warmth of the car to tie the canoe to the roof. Since we left the rope that secures the middle of the canoe in the other car, we had to settle for tying it down on only the bow and stern.
Apparently it wasn't tied tight enough. The wind had picked up considerably over the past few hours, and gusts were now blowing perpendicular to the road. Within a kilometre of reaching the other car, a huge blast of wind caught the canoe like a sail, and blew it off the roof. Of course, it was still tied to the car, so it didn't go far; it hit the road with a distinct 'crack', and merely dragged and scraped along beside the car. It was a nightmare.
I stopped the car and we got out, our clothes still wet. We got the canoe off the road to inspect the damage. There was clearly a large crack in the canvas near the front of the canoe. One of the wooden ribs was cracked, and the previously immaculate forest-green canvas was worn white in places where it had scraped along the road. Quite dismayed and beside myself, I couldn't believe how badly this once-perfect day was turning out.
Mom and I laid the battered canoe on the grassy shoulder of the road, near someone's shed. By chance, there sat a nice forest-green cedar and canvas canoe, much like the one I had nearly destroyed, with a sign propped up against it: For Sale.
Mom pointed, saying "Look at that!"
"I know, Mom!" I said, exasperated.
After picking up the other car, we returned to the canoe to tie it, this time more securely, to the roof. The third rope made a big difference. All the way home, I didn't dare drive faster than 60 km/h. Every gust of wind took away a year of my life span.
Now, more than a month later, with the canoe repairs complete, the events of that day have taken on a more humourous air. I'm sorry that Mom had to live through such a harrowing experience, but I'm glad to have learned first-hand some valuable lessons:
1. Wear a lifejacket;
2. Pack valuables in waterproof containers (my cell phone and Mom's camera were ruined);
3. Tie everything to the canoe;
4. Use more ropes than necessary!
