A kick-ass weekend of adrenalin-inducing whitewater kayaking! Robyn and Duncan join me for two days of whitewater paradise at Palmer Rapids.
Palmer Rapids is an excellent section of entry-level whitewater rapids about three and a half hours away from Toronto. We have been here before to take a course last summer. Any subsequent practice last summer was rendered impossible, though, because I broke my arm and spent the summer recovering. (Don't worry, it was broken rock climbing, paddling is totally safe!)
The weekend begins with the weather forecast hinting at utter treachery. Saturday is meant to rain all day with scattered thundershowers followed by even more rain on Sunday! What the hell? Mother-nature, we talked about this! Rain exists for weekdays. Regardless, I figure getting wet is already inevitable, so what harm could a little rain do?
The first day of paddling is sensational. Water levels are pretty low, but we make the best of it and discover that a pounding rainstorm only makes the experience more exciting.
The day is only hampered when I bounce off a rock and belly up in one of the biggest rapids. As I float along under my boat, I feel something wrench my paddle from my hands. Helplessly I reach up to release my spray skirt and bail from the boat. Once on the surface, I grab control of the capsized boat, but I am horrified to realize that my paddle didn't come up with me.
I push my boat into the nearest eddy. It dawns on me that the force that wrenched the paddle from my hand was it becoming lodged on a rock below the surface in the middle of a giant rapid. I am in quite the predicament, not only may I have lost an expensive paddle but without it, I also may have ended my weekend of paddling. My paddle must be recovered. As I start wading my way along the eddy line trying to feel for the paddle, Duncan climbs to a higher vantage point to see if he can spot it. After making several foolish and useless attempts to blindly grope for the paddle, Duncan catches a glimpse of a white shape beneath the waves. I dive into the current upstream and make a desperate swing as I float by. Astonishingly, my paddle resurfaces behind me, following me into calmer waters. My gambit was a success!
The day is a victory! Hours of delightful creek play mixed with some genuinely epic storm weather. We are exhausted, wet, and sore. It is time to return to camp.
As soon as we return to camp, Duncan learns that the waterproofing on his fly has worn out. The inside of his tent is more or less a puddle. After watching him try to build a new tent fly out of paper towels, our camping neighbors take pity and lend him a tarp. Too late to protect the contents of the tent but better than spending the night with a dripping ceiling.
Despite Duncan's damp everything, we make the best of a bad situation by drowning our sorrows in sauerkraut laden hot dogs. About halfway between dogs four and five, Robyn arrives with her partner Tom in tow. The evening is getting good!
After a fantastic dinner and managing to convince a convenience store owner to sell us two pairs of his own crocs, we settle into card games. I have never played the game "Sets" before. Still, Robyn seems delighted to put our brains through extreme concentration despite our exhausted state. After a couple of lively games where Tom almost manages to win the use of Robyn's Therm-A-Rest we settle in for the night.
Knowing that Robyn has to wait for the rental office to open, we all sleep until about eight. I cook up a delectable breakfast of raisin bannock while Robyn and Duncan make sure the gear is ready. By ten, we are on the water.
Day two turns out to be even better than its predecessor. We enjoy run after run in a state of effervescent euphoria.
