Pursuit of Happiness

I took a canoe ride with Peter again the other day. Fifteen minutes after leaving shore by Dublin Street, we were faced with the choice of either portaging for one hundred yards and then shooting a half-mile rapid or portaging three quarters of a mile and putting the canoe into calm water. I should preface this story by letting you know that Peter and I both consider Bill Mason to be one of the wisest men who ever lived. We took him quite literally when he said, "Anyone who tells you that they like portaging is either a liar or crazy-or maybe both." With Bill Mason's words echoing in our ears, there was only one option to be used.

Unfortunately, we did not heed Mason's other warning that "in a rapids a canoe is like a wild stallion...that will dump you overboard and continue down the river by itself". I will describe the scene for you. Two brave young souls removed their shoes, socks and made fast the contents of the boat. To the left, rapids as far as the eye can see. To the north, water charging over the dam with a thunderous roar-so close we could feel the spray. Straight ahead, three laughing Ptbro Utilities workers placing bets on how far the two idiots in the canoe would make it.

We did not waste time on idle chatter-there would be chattering enough if the canoe bucked us into the icy waters. The lots had been cast and we had it to do. Into the boat. Paddling furiously. Swept sideways. Bump off a log, off a rock, over a fallen tree, wedged into an eddy. Out of the boat, push it off, hold it steady, back in and off we went again. Soaked to the waist, waves rush over the gunnels. the bow dips, takes on water, springs out of the froth and proudly surges forward to the rhythm of the paddle. The run becomes a blur of rocks, sunken logs and embankments only just missed by the brief twist of a paddle. The effort of the crew means nothing if the canoe refuses to respond; but, centuries of breeding shows through, and the graceful craft responds beautifully to each movement of the paddle.

Six and a half minutes later we arrived in calm water-heroes who had conquered the best that the Otonobee could fling at us. It is surprising how much of a workout one can get for six minutes in a rapids. The contrast is shocking. Lower bodies are frozen from the cool October water, while upper bodies are aching with the exertion of paddling, pushing, prying in an effort to keep the boat right-side-up and pointed into safe water.

After the first half-mile of rapids, the Otonobee opened to offer us all the serenity of an abandoned river in the late fall. The majority of the twenty kilometre trip was a leisurely paddle. All told, definately the best way I can think of to spend a morning.

To borrow from a favourite author of mine "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing-absolutely nothing-half so worth doing as simply messing about in boats." -Grahame-TWITW