I've had many moments before I became a solo paddler but PJ's pic of him fishing in the front of his canoe brought back one particular maddening moment.
I was in Maine and we were headed into a particularly nasty headwind on a big, long lake.
Shoreline was steep and rocky and after we committed to paddle, the only option was to get to first campsite available.
About 45 minutes in to paddle, it seems to me we were literally dead in the water. I was the lightest, so I was in the bow.
At some point I turned to see how my partner was doing and found him not paddling, laying back in his seat with his feet up on the packs :-?
I assumed he was taking a short break?
Turns out he had stopped paddling about 15 minutes after we started, because his arms were tired.
IF I could of reached him without capsizing, I would of choked him to death.
I started yelling and he made a half (*) attempt at helping and we finally made land.
I was still mad as hell and got even madder when he informed me that the reason he switched places with my usual bow paddler, was because he knew I was the strongest of the 4 and could do the lions share of the work, while he rode in style :'(
There was so many of them over our paddling days together, I look back and wonder how I out up with it.
I guess time does heal some memories because every year I/They convinced me it would be different this time. Shame on me ;)