High Rises to Hiking Boots: February 2012

As a continuation of last month's boating hijinks, I thought I'd tell ya'll about canoing with my parents. Sounds like a good idea right? Wrong!

So first off, I don't have a ton of canoing experience. A few weeks each year at scout camp, a few days canoing the "target" boat while my brother shot, no, LAUNCHED water balloons at me, and then my summer working on the Canadian border in Minnesota. Several years later I'd go urban canoing.

Canoing the northern lakes is usually peaceful. Lots of pine trees and bald eagles, water lillies and loons.

Typical peaceful lake, complete with water lily

mother and baby loon... they let me get pretty close!

Canoing with others is also usually peaceful.

So when my parents came to visit, I thought it'd be a great idea to go canoing! The plan was to head a short distance into a small enclosed area with calm waters. I forgot that canoing with others means teamwork and a clearly defined leader, as well as understanding your center of gravity.

We loaded up, my dad in the back, mom in the middle and me in the front. As we made our way out into open waters, it quickly became apparent that we were not a well-functioning team. I was giving directions up front and paddling; dad was in the back, paddling to his own beat and leaning from side to side to rock the boat and piss off the rest of us; mom was in the middle trying not to fall out. The canoe meandered like it was being paddled by a crew of drunken toddlers; side to side, this way and that, even stopping on occassion. The 5 minute paddle across the channel turned into a 20-minute fight. We were dodging houseboats (probably actually driven by drunken toddlers) and speedboats, both creating awesome wakes that threatened to tip us over.

I guess now is a good time to mention my intense fear of deep open water. This fear developed at a young age as I'd tube (inner tube floating on water) under a bridge on the Comal River. I was convinced that people would jump off the bridge, plunge to their deaths in the river and their bodies never recovered... until I floated along and then they would surface and pop up around me. Like this....

This fear of the deep never went away, so its safe to say that if the canoe overturned, I'd most likely have a massive anxiety attack and drown. This was less than desirable! We FINALLY made it across the channel, drowning-free, and into the quiet of Lost Lake.

Survived the crossing and into the quiet!

Lost Lake was glorious! We saw bald eagles, I think we saw some loons, and we were able to maneuver around in our own drunken style. I think my parents were happy we went. Of course, all of this gloriousness was a bit lost on me because I was anticipating the crossing back to the cabin. The horror!!

Soon enough it was time to make the crossing back across the channel. There was more traffic this time, big boats, bigger wakes. Oh and to make the crossing all the more pleasant, a storm was approaching. I turned around to face the parents and gave them the talk... we needed to work as a team and get across quickly!

Off we went, trying to avoid the big boats and the bigger wakes. The current and wind had picked up due to the storm, making it unbelievably hard for 3 people, working independently, to paddle across. Somehow we drifted away from our goal and my idea (as lead, I'm allowed to have the ideas!) was to aim for the nearest small island, use it for shelter and work our way around to calmer waters where we could then hug the shoreline all the way home.

This wonderful idea only kind of worked. The canoe was listing to one side, meaning that somebody in the canoe was leaning! This made fighting the wakes that much harder and tipping over that much easier. Mom was beginning to yell, (I guess panicking?) mostly at my father who thought it was funny to tease the ladies in the boat. It wasn't. We made it, frazzled and worn out, to the small island, where I then decided to cut the trip short and head for the nearest dock. I'm pretty sure I had complete support from mom, and nothing but sarcasm from dad. (and you wonder where I get it from?)

So I leave my parents at the canoe landing, and walk up the hill to the closest visitor center. One of my canoing partners, E, was working and I was hoping she'd help me get the canoe back to the cabin. After bringing my sopping wet and muddy parents up to the visitor center (i knew the pity-factor would get them a ride back!), E and I loaded up and headed for the cabin. It pretty much instantly began to rain on us, but better us than my parents. As we approached the dock, there was my dad, waving and laughing and taking pictures and video of our "canoe rescue".

Canoe Rescue!

I guess overall we had a good time, even though mom declared her canoing days were over and I learned that we were NOT a very good team! In the future, I'll stick with canoing with friends and capable strangers.