As the sun slowly sank westward, we all figured
it was time to head back. Climbing into our canoe, and laying our life jackets
on our seats for comfort, my friend Alexandra and I attempted to paddle in a
direct line across the little “bay” to the campsite. But as we paddled, the sky
darkened as clouds began to cover the sun that had once shone so brightly. And
the air that had been so warm quickly cooled as wind began to pick up. The
glassy lake surface was now choppy as gusts of wind whipped up the waves. We
were about a third of the way back when one of the school’s speedboats headed
towards our group of canoers, “Start paddling towards the edge of the lake,”
the driver yelled. “Looks like a big storm is blowing in and it’s not safe to
be canoeing out here in the open water with all these waves.” He sped off
leaving us a wake of waves to bounce over. The lake edge was parallel to us
across the inlet and not exactly in the direction we were paddling. “But if we head straight towards the shore,
that will put our canoe parallel to the waves,” I pointed out. And anyone who
knows anything about canoeing knows that’s a sure way to flip. Well we’d just
have to slowly angle our way towards shore instead. The wind and competency of the canoers had
separated our group and Alexandra and I were not near any others. As we
gradually worked on angling towards shore, our canoe was no longer plowing
directly into the waves. Unexpectedly a rogue wave caught our canoe, driving it
parallel to the waves. And in an instant, without even a second to react, I was
plunged into the frigid waters.
