Capsized

Capsized

On my morning walk with Daisy, my dog, I passed by a newly built home in our neighborhood. Sitting in the driveway was a shiny wood canoe. Not sure why it was out on the pavement, but it caught my eye; smooth, sleek lines of veneered wood created by a master craftsman. Staring at this piece of art brought back memories.

While in high school, I was an Explorer Scout. One summer, scouts in the Minneapolis area were invited to participate in a canoe race as part of the annual Aquatennial celebration. Starting at Lake Bemidji, we were to paddle in teams all the way down the Mississippi to the Twin Cities; a distance of over three hundred miles. To make a long story short, on the second day of the race, sitting in the bow, I asked my teammate to hand me a fresh paddle. I caught the paddle blade between my thumb and forefinger splitting my hand open. Requiring emergency room care, we had to forfeit and travel by car to the Cities. So much for canoe racing!

Another of my canoe adventures took place in the Boundary Waters of northern Minnesota. I was part of a scout ten-day canoe trip. On the second to the last day as we crossed the treacherous Basswood Lake, high winds made paddling difficult. Caught between two giant whitecaps, our canoe capsized. Here I was, fully clothed wearing camping boots, scout uniform and jacket, slowing sinking to the bottom of the lake. Fortunately, my partner and I were good swimmers. Because of our scout training we righted the canoe full of water, gathered up our gear and crawled back in. It was an arduous paddle to dry land. Thank God we didn’t drown.

Funny how you can take your dog for a walk around the neighborhood on a summer morning, spot a beautiful canoe and have memories from over fifty years ago come back to you as fresh as if they happened yesterday. I have been told that as you age long term memory is much better than short term memory. I guess I am blessed to have found my way home.

 Daisy knew the way.