STORM ASHORE

There have been many events in my life, which not only provided personal surprises but a feeling of awe among the mysteries of life. Call it whatever you wish; but I know prayers answered one of my adventures.

Not that lives were necessarily at risk, but rather it became necessary to evacuate a situation, which could have proved to be dangerous.

Camping out has always been a favorite pastime and this weekend, my young friend Jay, joined me in a canoe trip to Economy Lake. It was about ten miles north of Bass River, Nova Scotia and situated about a quarter mile offshore was a neat little island, our tenting destination.

It had erupted from the land mass beneath the water and over time, trees, ferns, moss and some grass covered the acre of solid rock mass.

Prior to planning our trip, my wife, Esther asked, “Did you hear it might rain?” Well my motto has always been, ‘Rain or Shine.” And my Little Brother, through the Big Brother Association agreed. Besides we looked forward to a day of canoeing and fishing. And the excitement of tenting under the stars was a great time to look forward to.

Yes, the fishing was good. And the canoeing was fun. We searched each bay, one in particular being inhabited by a family of loons. Too soon, evening captured our time. The wind had picked up and lake swells prevented us from having an evening of more fishing.

“Sorry about the weather spoiling our fun.”

“It’s okay,“ Jay answered.

He was an accommodating young lad, not easily fazed by undue circumstances. In fact his Mi’kmaq heritage allowed him a degree of patience and understanding uncommon for a boy of twelve.

Then the rain hit. The scrappy looking clouds fooled us, as they allowed the moisture to sneak up on us, as we were finishing supper over a small campfire. Suddenly we were in a race.

“Hurry!” I shouted. “Get the sleeping bags off the clothesline.” Kitchen gear was hastily thrown into our tent, a bell shaped refuge against the pelting rain. An early darkness joined the rain, and water rushed across the lake. Lapping against the shore soon turned into torrents of waves, crashing over the low end of the island.

“Do you think the tent will blow away?” Jay asked.

“We’ll find out soon,” was my cautious reply.

During the evening our tent was severely tested. We were warm in our sleeping bags as the nylon material shivered and shook. It was difficult to understand how it could possibly remain intact on the ground. Maybe it had something to do with my new twelve-inch pegs, which grounded the tent firmly in spite of the water-saturated ground.

Also the bamboo struts were able to bend with the tent without breaking. I am sure metal poles could not have stood up to such a wind.

Outside our tent was a maelstrom of activity. I made sure the canoe was pulled up higher on shore, then roped it to a tree; also double-checked our peg stakes. By this time the lake water was roaring along both sides of our slim band of shore. The wind seemed determined to blow us off this sliver of land.

“Not good out there, is it? asked Jay as I returned to the tent.

“You’re right,” I answered. Before long it got much worse. The wind actually pushed the wall of our tent against our faces. How the material stood up to this force was hard to figure.

“Someone’s on our side,” I said. After saying a prayer in the darkness, I wasn’t so fearful of our small island being overrun by a wall of water.

I began thinking when we should actually try to make it back to the mainland. My thoughts churned about a decision when a brief message suddenly whispered in my ear. “Nine am,” it said. There, I’m sure it was a voice. I had mouthed a prayer for direction. This must be the answer.

Rather than question my thoughts over this situation, I now had a peace, which settled upon me. “Jay” I said, “We’re leaving here nine o’clock in the morning.”

“Ok,” he said. “What time is it now?”

My flashlight showed eleven pm.

“Get up what time?” he asked.

“Seven,” I answered. “We have to pack everything and be prepared to push off in our canoe at nine sharp. Not nine-fifteen, but nine. Ok?”

“Yup,” then he was off to snooze land.

I lay in the darkness listening to the wind, the roar of water, and kept pushing the side of tent from my face. Time slipped by, One, Three, then Five o’clock. I knew it was necessary to get up and check the outdoors once more. The wind was encouraging waves more ferociously and the pelting rain actually stung.

Whew, was I relieved to get back into my dry sleeping bag. It seemed more like ten minutes, but awakening with a start saw it was now seven o’clock. “Time to get up!” I yelled across at Jay.

The wind still roared, water smashed against the shore and it seemed like the sky still had a reservoir of rain. We could barely stand upright since our tree shelter was more like shrubs barely reaching above our heads. The Campfire was checked for any possible coals, garbage picked up and gear assembled.

The canoe was soon filled with our tent and equipment, as we held tightly to the gunnels. Lake water gushed against our kneecaps.

“When I say go, get in the canoe then paddle without stopping. No talking nor looking around,” I yelled above the din. I really didn’t know how the canoe would remain upright with the wind blowing directly against the hull. At least, if we tipped, our preservers would keep us afloat. Besides, the canoe had flotation compartments at both ends and could be used as a raft.

As I mentally counted down the last minutes before nine o’clock, something happened. The wind’s velocity suddenly dropped and churning water turned quite calm. But we had no time to discuss this change. “Get in!” I hollered, struggling to hold our canoe balanced in the water.

Then I jumped in. “Paddle with everything you’ve got.” And we did so furiously all the way to the mainland.

Catching our breath after fifteen minutes of intense activity, we looked back and stared. The water, which remained calm for our quarter mile of travel, became turbulent. And the wind began its hectic dance once again.

In a quiet voice I said, Jay, “We have a special friend. And he was watching over us today.” Further conversation was halted, as we simply stared in awe at the island we left behind.

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© 2009 Richard L. Provencher
All Rights Reserved