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That Canoe Trip

Gull on Post

It was the end of Spring Break. One last chance to get outside before I was back to fictional adventures from the past. Thursday, I borrowed the canoe and life jackets. I finalized the menu.

Friday was beautiful. Somehow, I wasn’t ready as early as I had hoped, but we got to the boat launch at Willapa National Wildlife Refuge and paddled out into the slough/bay.

The early evening canoeing was everything I dreamed about except not being absolutely sure of how far we had gone until I turned on my GPS and confirmed we had already arrived at the area of our campsite.

We saw the outhouse, but finding where to land was a challenge.  If you miss the tide window for landing, you are in trouble. We didn’t quite miss it but landing was still a challenge involving wading through mud about a foot thick. To leave on the morning high tide, we awakened about 4:30, loaded, and left by 6. I dressed lightly so as not to be too warm. It was still dark and it was misting or very lightly raining.

Fear started to set in. Paddle gently so as not to hit a submerged object and capsize. Leave headlamps on in case of a motor boat. Stick close to shore to avoid ending up in the middle of Willapa Bay or the Ocean. Out of small slough, rain increased, accompanied by wind. Feeling colder… Still dark.  Wet. Cold. I had planned to eat breakfast on the bay. Cold and wet and low blood sugar. Huddled in the bottom of the canoe and only occasionally helping to paddle.

Still dark. Decided that 12 hours in the canoe was not a good idea. We turned to head back to the only boat launch available at low tide… back at the parking lot. Now we’re paddling against the tide (a tide that changes by 12 feet between high and low), cold, wet, hungry, but at least the dawn is breaking. A motor boat goes by. The driver waves and is gone. I dream of a ride. We paddle, paddle and paddle some more but are making no progress against the tide. We ground ourselves and I add a coat. I’m praying we make it.

The boat comes back by and stops to ask if we’re OK. I say, “Yes, but I’m very cold.” He offers a ride. Even with his motorboat, it is difficult fighting the tide in the narrow part of the channel. ‘Victim’ rides in the front back to dock. After landing, he starts shivering and I am OK. We’re alive. We eat, finally warm up, and take a short hike. Then it’s off to see a historic courthouse.

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A Snowy New Year

Snow on Columnar Basalt

I love backpacking. More specifically, I love spending nights with at most a thin piece of nylon (and my sleeping bag, etc.) between me and the night sky. What if I went backpacking during every month of the year.

Sheltie mix
Reba – the faithful trail pup

It sounded great. Reba agreed. She clearly stated that the whole year sounded good – outside, trails, maybe snow. It all sounded good to her.

My usual victim consented to accompany us and then came December! It was cold outside. Weekends were in short supply. Oh, wouldn’t it be neat to welcome in the New Year in a tent? Yes, let’s do it.  (And while we’re at it, that counts as December and January.)

We headed out to the Lower Skokomish….oops, snow. More snow than my unmodified 1994 Landcruiser could handle…. time spent digging out. Fortunately this was on December 30.

Snow on Columnar Basalt
January 1 in Quincy Lakes Unit of the Columbia Basin Wildlife Area, WA

Time for Plan B!

Quincy Lakes. Success! We didn’t go in far. We took in two sleeping bags apiece. We cooked supper at the campsite, but in the morning, we waited and ate breakfast in the car.

(Reba, of course, took some time to make snow angels and thought we were just a bit wimpy!)