A lesson learned, again
You may not know it to look at me, but I’ve got a superpower. It’s not the trite dramatic superpowers you normally see in the movies. I can’t fly or shoot laser beams from my eyes or turn invisible. No, my superpower is humility. This is not something I sought out, but rather something forced upon me. Yet it has proven very useful to my life. Don’t get me wrong I generally have a high opinion of myself, it’s just about these times of peak confidence that I save for doing my most dumbass deeds.
I started young. When I was six years old I was running my finger along the edge of a knife in my Aunt Sonia’s kitchen. She warned me that I would cut myself if I kept playing like that. I dismissed her with a “yeah, yeah, I know what I’m doing.” Moments later she was bandaging up my cut finger.
In junior high I learned to juggle and became quite good. I naturally began juggling with raw eggs from our fridge. My dad was less impressed and told me not to make a mess by dropping them. “Like that’s even possible,” I boasted. Moments later I was mopping the floor.
This pattern repeats to this day which brings us to my latest involuntary check on my pride. Recently a friend and I headed out excited to canoe our favourite stretch of river from Strathcona Island to the pickup at the end of 11 Avenue N.E. When informed of my plans my wife asked me if that was a good idea since the river was high. To which I replied, “Hey I’ve canoed to the Arctic Ocean. We’ll be fine.” Two hours later we were involuntarily swimming in the South Saskatchewan River.
I love canoeing. The canoe is one of those inventions that perfectly marries form and function. I’ve been fortunate to see some special places from the vantage of a canoe including canoeing the Mackenzie River in the Northwest Territory from Great Slave Lake, 1,600 kilometres north to Tuktoyaktuk on the Arctic Ocean. Out there to capsize is a dangerous thing. To lose a paddle or a canoe would leave you stranded. So we always carried extra paddles, throw bags and tow lines. All gear and dry bags tied to the canoe. An abundance of caution in those days. That much time spent in a canoe has made me comfortable in a canoe. Too comfortable.
The stretch of river downstream from Strathcona Island takes you past three sets of ox bows and bluffs. It feels wilder than the more common float from Echo Dale Regional Park to Strathcona Island. We typically canoe July through September when the river is low. The river in spring has about five times the usual volume and halfway through our trip this current turned us sideways and swamped us. I’ve capsized many times before and will again in the future so to capsize in and of itself is no sin, but to do so because of overconfidence and a lapse of attention is never good.
We were close to shore and got there safely, but because I neglected to travel with towlines we couldn’t bring the canoe in. All those water safety lessons I forgotten came back quickly. As I watched the canoe float away I knew my wife was never going to let me live this down. Then I looked up and the fishing boat we had passed a few minutes earlier was headed towards us. They picked us up and not only that they took us downriver and salvaged our canoe. They gave us their coats to keep us warm and took us back to the boat launch. We didn’t get their names, but to those three Good Samaritans we owe a debt of gratitude.
To make mistakes is a blessing in disguise. All of those like me who mess up frequently know that nothing teaches like failure. Though I hope that not everyone must learn lessons the hard way. The South Saskatchewan is always dangerous if you’re not careful.