OH BROTHER: THE CANOE TRIP THAT NEARLY SUNK US!

REFLECTIONS – Inspiration is Everywhere

October 2024

OH BROTHER: THE CANOE TRIP THAT NEARLY SUNK US!

By Suzen Fromstein

My smiling face was missing from family photos so often, you’d think I was adopted. But despite this, I always felt my younger brother, David, had my back—even if it was just to criticize my paddling technique.

One summer, David and I decided to combine visiting my youngest son at camp with a “brother-sister bonding” weekend in Algonquin Park. Sounds wholesome, right? Spoiler alert: it was more of a survival test.

It had been years since I’d last been in the Park—roughly around the time when boy bands were still a thing. Meanwhile, David was practically a human compass and had paddled those lakes hundreds of times. So naturally, I assumed I’d be safe. Or at least, you know, not dead.

Armed with an industrial-sized can of bug spray, a fashionable head-to-neck bug net (trendsetter, I know), and a touch of optimism, I was ready for the adventure. Or so I thought. The moment I saw our red rental canoe, I had second thoughts. It had been more than two decades since I’d last paddled, and suddenly, dry land seemed incredibly underrated.

David reassured me, saying he’d planned a “short, easy trip.” In David-speak, that meant an 8-10 mile paddle each way, with a half-mile portage over rocks, roots, and terrain even goats would avoid.

Being my little brother, David knew exactly how to push my buttons. “You’re in decent shape, except for the flab on the back of your arms,” he commented with that innocent grin of his. So, naturally, I paddled like I was training for the Olympics. Thanks, Davey.

As the day wore on, the wind picked up, the water got choppier, and to add to the fun, the canoe started leaking. The drizzle turned into full-on rain just as we reached shore, where we set up camp. Or rather, David set up camp while I pretended to be useful by gathering firewood.

After everything was done, David decided to take a dip in the lake. There he was, frolicking like Aquaman, while I sat on the shore, shivering under my waterproof gear, watching in disbelief.

My gallon of Deep Woods Off? Yeah, apparently, it was more of a bug banquet invite. They avoided David’s bare chest like it was the Sahara, but they treated me like an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Then came bedtime—our tent leaked too. The perfect cherry on top. It was like sleeping in a wet sponge. I spent the night praying for either sleep or a rescue helicopter.

By morning, the weather had gone from “bad” to “let’s build an ark.” I’d had enough. I demanded we head back to civilization, preferably with plumbing and no mosquitoes. David, finally sensing that I was one stroke away from a complete meltdown, agreed.

We knocked down the campsite, packed up our gear, and embarked on what felt like the world’s longest paddle back to the dock. Every stroke felt like paddling through pudding, but after what seemed like an eternity, we spotted the tuck shop—civilization at last!

That night, we checked into a hotel, my version of luxury camping. And that’s how our great brother-sister bonding weekend ended—in fluffy hotel robes, arguing over who got the last room service waffle.

Post script: A Thoughtful Pause

While David and I may laugh now about our soggy tent and misadventures in the wilderness, the reality is that nature can be both unpredictable and devastating. The impact of Hurricanes Helene and Milton reminds us that surviving a catastrophic weather event is no laughing matter. My heart goes out to everyone affected. Please consider supporting relief efforts to help those in need as they rebuild their lives and communities.