Chapter 12
Leaving the warmth and comfort of Whitey’s Fish Camp, the Paddle Posse braced themselves for the challenges that lay ahead. The wind, now driven by the front, blew straight up the river, slowing their progress. Despite the river’s persistent current, the wind battled against their every stroke. Their gear, safeguarded by the visqueen Whitey provided, held the promise of dry essentials in the impending downpour. As they embarked on the final stretch of this leg, a sense of determination filled the air.
Two miles downstream, the heavens unleashed their fury. Lightning forked through the clouds followed by deafening crashes of thunder in a non-stop progression of the storms fury. Rain descended in sheets, obscuring their surroundings. Frog Tog ponchos and wind jackets provided some defense, but the cold October rain seeped through, chilling them to the bone.
The rhythmic drumming of rain on the canoes and the howling wind became a clamor of nature’s raw power. Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, and the crew pressed on, knowing any pause would mean losing precious ground.
With water infiltrating the canoes, Everett steered towards the right side of the river, seeking shelter. Thick overhangs offered a temporary haven. Tying their canoes together and securing them to cypress knees, they became a determined unit against the tempest. Water squirters were turned into makeshift bailers as they battled to keep the canoes afloat. The storm, intense and unforgiving, seemed an eternal onslaught. The squall line overhead marked its persistence.
“Keep it up, everyone! We need to bail faster!” Everett commanded. The rain filled the canoes as fast as they could bail. Riley, with most of the supplies in her canoe, reached under the visqueen and produced several cooking pots, handing them to the others.
“Good thinking, Riley,” shouted Everett above the crash of thunder. They continued to bail in earnest.
After 45 harrowing minutes, the rain slowly began to let up. The worst was over, but the crew, wet, cold, and shivering, clung to the security of the riverbank. They finished bailing the remaining water from their canoes, and with the current as their ally and the wind now easing, they continued downstream while shedding rain gear and donning warmer jackets that were protected by the visqueen. The river led them towards their sanctuary for the night.
Everett consulted the map and identified a campsite on the left bank. A small, damp makeshift shelter awaited, a beacon of hope in the aftermath of the storm. The shelter, though modest, had a wood platform bottom with a roof. Remy and Riley, seasoned fire-wranglers, conjured flames from the dry wood in the fire pit.
“Thank goodness for this firewood,” Riley exclaimed as they all gathered around for warmth. The crew, relieved their gear remained dry, set up tents, opting for dry rations and warm beverages.
Remy pulled out some Kush and said, “If there ever was a time I need this, it is now!”
Maggie laughed. “Sorry Rem, it’s always the right time for you; give me a hit.” Remy laughed and handed the spliff to Maggie, who, by now, had poured herself a cup of red wine and moved closer to the fire. Riley, happy to have been restocked with Bud Light, popped a top and relaxed by the fire.
Everett looked over at Sarah, who was drinking her warm tea; he winked, and they smiled at each other, knowing what was next. He reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulled out his trusty flask, and took a long sip of the sweet 1800 Reposado. “For emergencies only!” He handed the flask to Sarah, who poured a bit into her warm tea. “That’s the ticket, thanks, Ev.”
By the crackling fire, they recounted the day’s trials, finding comfort in each other’s company. As the chill of the night enveloped them, the shared warmth of the fire became a symbol of resilience, forging bonds that weathered storms, both in the sky and within. The distant rumble of thunder faded, replaced by the crackling flames that danced in the shelter, casting shadows on the faces of the weary yet triumphant crew. Now warm, dry, and exhausted, their bodies tested by the storm, the fire dimmed. One by one, they retreated to their tents for a well-needed sound sleep.
