Rendezvous in the Bush
by Jim Carrier
I allowed our Souris River seventeen-footer to drift a little too close to the landing area. The three rookies, each wearing a small pack, reached down and jerked their canoe upward, apparently intending to perform a "triple turtleback" portaging maneuver... something I had never seen before. Sadly, the rear set of this odd turtle's legs crumpled and then stumbled backward under the unexpected weight of the canoe and accumulated rainwater. As the AlumaCraft lifted, a sudden rush of bilge surged to their "rear end", nearest the lake... right where we were. Thus, as the vessel flipped, a waterfall of lures, loose bait, and what-have-you gushed out the rear, emptying directly over Ben's head.
Profuse apologies followed. The struggling portage party, still clad in now deteriorating plastic bags, then became fully turtleback. Spacing themselves evenly underneath their shell, they marched toward Twin Lakes. Ben and I beached our canoe, dried off, and watched. A lively stringer of several smallmouth bass dangled at their collective knees from their overturned thwart bar. Hand-carried rods and paddles poked out willy-nilly in all directions. The odd sight jingled, jangled, and stumbled its way down the path. "Tangle rods" snagged bushes, tree branches, and their legs. Ten minutes later, we caught up with them, gasping for air while lying on the portage path beside their canoe. It lay crossways fully blocking our progress with our own canoe and heavy bags. After about a minute, one of them asked, "Do you want to get by us?" We simply nodded our assent and moved on.
The rain abated somewhat later that evening. We enjoyed "first night steaks" on a fog-laden, skeeter-infested, island campsite in Sturgeon Narrows. We chuckled over our encounter with the park rookies. Ben humbled me, however, reminding me of my own misadventures from "way back when"... which wasn't all that far back. We soon agreed it was better, indeed, to make mistakes as a park rookie and learn than never to venture into The Bush in the first place. Campfire conversation drifted to speculation about the "would-be bushwhackers". How many others had launched their quests to rendezvous with the mysterious Stumpy at his Jamboree? How did Stumpy get his name? Was he short and stocky? Did he once work for a logging operation? What was so magic about Magic Paddler? Half the fun of this adventure would be in meeting these various Internet personalities!