Chapter One
Following that one adventure out to the Lighthouse on Lake Superior, we felt pretty confident that we could tackle a trip on our own. We had purchased two single fourteen-foot kayaks and had practiced with them on the Spanish River, beside our house. Camping had been part of our adventures for years so we had all the necessary equipment to plan a short expedition. This year we were decided to go on a trip out to Wilson Island to check out the amazing Sea Arches, that our guide had mentioned the year before. We headed north, directly to Rossport, where we had booked an overnight stay at the Rossport Inn. This Inn provided cute little individual cabins, barely big enough for two, that overlooked the coastline of Rossport. They were located fairly close to the railway, which was still in active use, so we expected and received a cabin shaking experience of the train flying by, whistles blowing. But one absolutely wonderful discovery was the best food ever, offered at the quaint little Inn. We arrived on time for the evening meal and sadly ate so much of the fabulous food, that we left no room for the biggest, thickest blueberry pie we had ever seen. Bob asked them to save him a slice for breakfast, claiming that with that fuel he’d be able to out paddle me all day!
Chapter Two
The next morning, streams of sunshine, burst through the little cabin’s window. Packing our gear, we headed down to the water to begin the laborious job of packing the kayaks. Tedious would be a good description of the process of packing a kayak—so different from a canoe. On a canoe trip, you had big packs and possibly a food barrel that you would stuff all your gear and food into, then would simply toss the packs into the canoe, tie them down and in less than thirty minutes you’d be on the water. Not so with kayaks. All the gear and food had to be put in small dry sacks, including your clothes, tent, and sleeping bags, then all these little sacks had to be stuffed into the hatches of each kayak. It was an exercise of scientific planning to fit everything in.
We divided the sacks between the two kayaks, but found to our dismay that our hatches were simply not big enough to hold all of our gear. Our tent was too long, our sleeping bags too thick, the pots too fat and the cookstove too unbendable to squish into the small hatches. We tried several ways to make it work, but always had leftover gear, when the holds were full. An hour later we sat back on the sand, to take a breather.
“Okay, it doesn’t look like it’s all going to fit,” I said, tossing the tent to the ground.
“Nope, it doesn’t—clearly our canoe trip equipment isn’t suitable for these boats,” said Bob, still holding the pot he’d been trying to squeeze in.
All of our gear was spread on the ground around the kayaks. I got up and sorted the gear into a pile of ‘I can’t live without this, gear’ and ‘I might be able to live without that, gear.’ To my frustration, I noted that the stuff we absolutely needed, were by far the longest, fattest gear—the ones that just wouldn’t fit. I raised my hands to the air, “What are we going to do?” An answer I was not expecting, arrived in a flash.
Chapter Three
I watched in amazement, as the blue sky and sunshine that greeted us that morning, was suddenly replaced by a zagged flash of lightening. In a blink the entire horizon had turned a dark, purple colour, with streaks of bright white light dashing across it. We could literally see the storm rushing our way. That got us moving. Quickly we flipped the kayaks over, grabbed all our scattered gear and dashed for the Inn. Just arriving, as the first splash of rain hit the awning. I stood on the veranda watching in awe, when one of the owners joined me.
“Amazing how fast a storm develops around here,” he said, pushing his hat back.
“Yeh, it was sunny an hour and a half ago. Now, look at it. You can hardly see the lake.” I lifted my eyes in wonder, whispering, “You knew this was coming.”
“Well, when you’ve lived around here as long as I have, you get to know when storms are brewing,” he replied as he shuffled inside, door clapping shut behind him.
Bob, pushed out through the door, to stand beside me. Wonder filled my face. “What’s got you so lit up?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows.
“Oh, I just stand amazed at how well we are protected.”
He turned quizzical eyes towards me.
“If we’d had our way, we would have been halfway across that bay, in open, unprotected water, when this storm hit. Just look at those waves—they must be five-feet high.” I shook my head.
Bob nodded. “Yep, we were frustrated that things didn’t fit, but God was busy protecting us from the storm. Amazing grace.”
Linking arms with Bob, we headed back to our little cabin to play some cribbage while we waited for the flash storm to abate. “Perhaps, we can try a day paddle tomorrow?”
We smiled at each other. We’d go back home tomorrow and return in a year, better prepared.
