Paddle Boat Peril

Sometime a few years ago, Disorderly decided to join my family and I on a camping trip.  Unfortunately she wasn’t aware that camping with us is the essence of going into the bush.  We ended up in The Middle of Nowhere, BC.  The only entertainment provided by this campsite we found ourselves in was this quaint little booth where one could rent an aquatic toy of choice for an hour.  Being the two of us, we decided on the paddle boat.  For the comfort of course.  Now, what had encouraged us to rent this paddle boat was the rumor that just down the lake there was a resort that sold ice cream.  What kid can resist ice cream? So we set out in search of the elusive ice cream.  The lake was calm so the paddling was reasonably easy seeing there were two sets of legs to do the work.  We get halfway to the end of the lake and the wind starts to pick up.  We think that since we can see the end of the lake and some cabins we should be able to make it.  As we continue on our way all the other boaters are making their way back to the campground and getting their boats out of the water.  We really wanted that ice cream.  The waves and wind continue to grow in intensity.  Three quarters of the way to the end and to what we think is the resort, and all of a sudden the waves start splashing into the boat.  We were taking on water.  There was nothing available in the boat to use to bail, and I was wearing sandals.  Being the saint that she is, Disorderly heroically sacrificed her Vans to bail out the boat.  Trying our best to continue paddling whilst battling the waves and bailing we slowly make our way to a floating dock nearby.  Almost there and the paddle boat goes vertical.  It has taken on too much water.  So we sit on the part that’s still floating and paddle our way to the dock.  We get to the dock and right the boat, getting as much of the water out as possible.  Of course at this point we realize that what we were headed towards wasn’t a resort, but instead private cabins.  All that trauma, no ice cream and we still had to make our way back.  Deciding to stick to the shore, we started on our tedious journey back.  Still taking on water, we paddle our way through a large field of cattails.  Making the journey even slower. All of a sudden there was a clearing and a dock.  Seeing this as an opportune time or a break and complete bail out of the boat we pull up to the dock.  After bailing we take the time to actually look around and see where we are.  We had pulled up to the creepiest spot ever. There was an old decrepit shack in the middle of the forest, Deliverance style.  Quickly getting on our way, we re enter the dreaded cattail field.  Then out of nowhere we hear our names being called.  To our great amazement there, on the shore, is my mother and brother.  My brother comes out and pulls us the rest of the way in.  Apparently we had been gone for five hours, when we were only supposed to have gone for one hour.  Needless to say, our legs were the epitome of rubber.  Moral of the story: Vans save lives.

Ciao,
Disciplined

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