It is now well after 4pm and Kevin and I are very worried about our progress or lack of. We pull over and I call (on my cell) to the Ranger at Alafia. I explain our situation and we expect to be off the river by about 6:30pm (boy were we wrong). The Ranger gets me in touch with the Alderman’s Ford Ranger, and our vehicle situation is solved. The next call is to our wives to let them know we are running “a tad” bit late.

Back downstream.

Ahead we can hear traffic on Litha-Pinecrest. But the sun is getting low and it is getting cooler. Kevin is wearing shorts, Teva sandals, and a t-shirt. I am in a t-shirt, jeans, and my neoprene wading booties. We are both wet from the various portages. Finally, at 6pm we are at Lithia-Pinecrest. Alderman’s Ford is only a mile north of us. We are almost done (again, or so we thought).

The sun is now below the trees, and it is getting downright cold. The portages are getting tougher and we are getting tired. There are trees across the river and we devise a new plan. We get the canoe parallel to the tree, get out and sit on the trunk, spin the canoe perpendicular, drag it over and get back in. This was repeated more times than I can remember, and it got more difficult every time.

It’s dark now. There is no light, and our obstructions seem to be coming at us with more frequency. There is no conversation. The only words are “right, left, or straight” from Kevin. We are dead serious. It is cold, we are wet, and for all intents and purpose, can be considered “lost”. We are not lost in the fact we do not know where to go. We are lost because we have no clue as to how far we are from the take out, and really have no clue as to when we will get there.

Shivering, we pick our way downstream. We can’t really paddle. The current is the only propulsion. Every few minutes, the canoe hits an obstruction under the water. Cabbage palms appear out of the water with little or no warning. Trees obstruct the water, only to be spotted just seconds before impact. Things we think are obstructions are only shadows. Our fingers and biceps are cramping up from the cold. My toes are cold and sore in my water filled boots. Constantly, our eyes are scanning the woods for lights, our ears listening for traffic on CR 39. Nothing. Where is the moon? It’s full, but what time will it rise? We are in a bad situation.

Blocking our path is another tree. Kevin and I get out and straddle the log. Our legs are dangling in the water. The water’s warm, the water feels good. Scary, the water is probably 60 degrees and it feels warmer than the surrounding air. I pull out my cell and call my wife to update her on our progress. She says, “I was trying to call you, are you guys alright?” I tell her we are fine, and I left my cell off in case we need it for an emergency. I will call her at the take out. It is now 8pm. We are located right under the tall footbridge that is located in Alderman’s Ford Park. We get back in the canoe and push off.

There is a star to our west. It is standing alone in the sky and I am using this as my guide. As long as it is in front of us, we are gaining ground to the west. To the side or behind, I know we are just moving downstream. This tracking/ navigation is going on silently in my mind. We are moving, and I am just watching “my star”.

By now, I am really ready for this to end. I tell Kevin, “If we see the boardwalk, we will pull over, and we can walk out. I will get the canoe in the morning”. No, we just keep on. We take a quick inventory. I have some cheese sticks, beef jerky, and two bottles of water. I think Kevin has water and some jerky. We have no matches. So even if we decide or find we have to tough it out overnight, we have no way of making a fire. But we keep floating and bumping with the current.

Now Kevin hears cars in front of us. Big trucks, Harleys, some sirens are heard. We have some hope that the end of our trip is near. Kevin says, “Crap, now they are behind us”. The traffic is to our backs. Damn, the river made a u turn. This happens a couple times. It is like just being out of reach of something you really want. But we don’t say much and just keep pressing forward.

Quote:

We started a similar paddle once and experienced a similar result. We took someone's word for it w/o researching or preparing. It seemed simple enough at the time. After much unexpected hardship, indecision and a few choice words, we finally arrived at the takeout (thankful we didn't miss it) well past dark - freezing our butts off as well.

After car heaters (and defrosters), the shuttle (there were three canoes) and the ride back, we got together at someone's house. After apologies and tipping a few, there were no hard feelings - just laughter at our own stupidity as well as our bad/good luck = lessons learned.

Thank you for the reminder sir. It's always preferable to learn from the mistakes of others. Especially when those mistakes serve as reminders of important lessons we hold so dear long after having forgotten why they became important in the first place. I now remember WHY all those scratches got there...

90% of the "character" earned by the bottom of my canoe came from the last quarter of that single day. I remember the day but had forgotten the 'why' until a few hours after reading this thread. Much appreciated!

Yellow Bird.

We do still paddle together. As a matter of fact, he and I are going to BWCA May 13th on the Mudro Lake loop for 7days.

"Whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger"