Canada for Strong Intermediates

The trip began well (and did end well, by the way) – starting with a week-long parking space negotiated by Nathan at Rockwood Conference Center for left-behind cars, a new LAKS van complete with board in the rear, and an engrossing Sunday NYT crossword puzzle, finished off enroute by Alexina, Anne Nuechterlein, and Anne Kibler (who from now on will be known as Anne and Kibler, respectively). We no sooner hit Frederick, though, than a wrong turn took us off course momentarily (in our back yard, no less!). Whoever was driving got some grief. And it was not the last time, either, for an unplanned detour. But we had crackerjack navigators on the whole and some devoted, competent drivers (Alexina, Gene, and Shane) who shared the burden with Tom, and the rest of us were truly grateful for this.

We made Watertown, NY, by about 5 pm to work out the road kinks at Hole Brothers, a park-and-play spot on the Black River. With a late afternoon glow on the water, a few locals graciously accepted ten boats from out of nowhere into the queue. In true Tom fashion, he made a game of it and began timing everyone’s stay on the wave, holding out a beer as the grand prize. Shane won with a 24-second surf, beating out Carrie in close second at 20 seconds and Alexina a distant third with only 12 seconds (but a successful spin).

After changing in the parking lot by Hole Brothers, we retired to the campsite to set up tents, which encouraged an immediate “fessing up” of those who snore and those who don’t – the snorers creeping off to a far corner of the campsite. Late dinner in Watertown at an Italian restaurant with about half of the world’s supply of fake plastic grapes hanging from the ceiling and quite vividly painted murals of Italian countryside on one side and an electronic keno board on the opposite wall (we got tips from the waitress on how to play, but we had all conveniently left our “gambling cash” at home). Tom promptly disappeared for the whole meal to go shopping, returning for the last five minutes to wolf down his salad before we paid the check.

Monday, August 17

Fresh melon slices and grilled chorizo for breakfast (along with the usual juice, bagels, and oatmeal, of course). The boys got peer-pressured into finishing off the copious amounts of chorizo – tough duty, but they managed. Tom kept the sleepy masses from revolting with a (not so) quick stop at Watertown’s best drive-though coffee joint – Brew-Ha-Ha – and everyone got sufficiently caffeinated. Shane claimed his “longest surf” prize in the form of a milkshake. Made the border crossing in the vicinity of the Thousand Islands with no incident, no undue questioning of Tom, this time, and his youthful exploits. Headed north through lovely rural farmland to Owl Rafting, an outfitter on the Ottawa River with great facilities and hand’s down the most scenic campsite of the trip. We pitched our tents on a wide expanse of manicured lawn dotted with picnic tables, facing the broad, calm Ottawa River. Behind us lay farmland and a newly mown, golden hayfield (complete with loud rumbling farm equipment running well into the night!). Not even Shane’s complaints about how far the campsite was from the parking lot (including a Facebook posting) could dampen our intrepid spirits! A stunning sunset the first evening with some humidity in the air, a crisper evening the next night with the sky awash in stars and the milky way. Spectacular.

We met up with Jake Weiss, our second instructor (and designated rescuer par-excellence) who had driven up separately from Pennsylvania, and quickly brought him into the fold. He immediately became an integral part of our extended paddling family.

By about 3 pm, we put on the river to do just the first rapid, McCoy’s. Was there a little anticipation in the air? Tom had us doing stroke drills and onside-offside rolls like mad as we approached the forested island where we could leave our boats to scout. As soon as we got to the rocky outcrop to view the rapid, the sky let loose with a pelting rain and gusts of wind which blew the rain sideways and lifted the foam off the top of Sattler’s and Phil’s Holes. The heavy rain set the perfect dramatic tone, as we stared wide-eyed at the gaping maws of two of the biggest holes most of us had ever seen … and then shuddered when told of the line squeezed in between the two! We looked at the rapid from the top…..from the bottom…..from the middle….with plenty of pointing and discussion and the beginning, for us, of a new feature-based vocabulary: “Threading the Needle” was only the first of many river identifications and lines that would be seared in our dreams each night.

Jake executed the move flawlessly for us, but Gene was our probe, and he promptly got EATEN. The idea was to line up, cut across the right corner of Sattler’s Hole, and paddle hard towards river left (thereby “threading the needle”) in order to avoid the left edge of Phil’s Hole just below. Well, we saw just how key it was to hit enough of the corner of the upper hole so as not to be swept into Phil’s, because that’s exactly where the force of the current took Gene. He swam for the first and ONLY time on the trip (none of the subsequent rapids ever seemed to trouble him!). By the end of the afternoon, though, most people did the rapid two or three times. It’s situated on a right dogleg in the river so that there are two surfing areas at the bottom, Babyface and Corner Hole. You can carry up and do the whole thing again and again and then paddle some flat water back to your car! It’s super-convenient for all the Ottawa river-rat play boaters, of which there are many – kind of like a super-sized version of paddling out to MD & VA chutes.

There’s another line at McCoy’s without trying to “thread the needle” – you drive straight through the center of Phil’s Hole lining up with a crowning wave above and then take an almost imperceptible small opening in the middle of the hole. Tom led Anne down into this “hero-line” but didn’t quite punch through, and as Anne dropped into the hole she found Tom in mid-surf looking back at her. Now anyone who knows Tom knows he’s a gentleman’s gentleman, so it was no surprise that when he slid over to give Anne the gentler side of the hole, while he got heavily cartwheeled and chomped by Mr. Phil. Anne flipped, flushed and rolled, while Tom “fought the good fight” …. he gave Phil a few good uppercuts, but then his helmet was ripped off by the force (a faulty strap) and afraid of loosing his glasses, he put his hand on his head with one hand and pulled his skirt with the other. We were just happy to see him again, regardless. His helmet was gone, a relic from his Tibet trip, but we rescued the foam liner. When your fearless leader swims the first rapid of the first day, is that a bad omen?

A lesser event of the afternoon was a successful combat roll by Irene after being pulled into the edge of Phil’s – not noteworthy at the time but it would become so later in the week after seeing her roll disappear in the big water. April never quite figured out the line until the next day, shooting through Phil’s two of her three attempts of the rapid and losing everything in her PFD (including camera and sunscreen). But she made her roll every time!

Steak dinner and a complimentary beer (“Steam Whistle” beer – brewed with love from Canada’s crystal clear – if somewhat bug-infested – springwater) at a picnic table alongside the river at Owl Rafting with rhubarb pie a la mode for dessert. Golden light on the water, towering cumulous clouds in the distant sky. A perfect day. (read the whole rest of trip report)