TomT,

Well, the experience that comes to mind ended up being part of my BWJ story re: the very first "Bushwhacker Jamboree" back in 2005.  My son, Ben, & I were en route to Cairn Lake, the "launching point" for the bushwhack to the targeted interior lake.  Anyway, that was still a few days away and my son & I were still on Day One, looking to portage out of Dore Lake.  Here is the pertinent excerpt from that story:
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Three friendly fellows in an Alumacraft, thoroughly soaked in their makeshift "plastic bag" rainwear, paddled past us. We waved and exchanged pleasantries. Loose gear and small packs lay strewn about their canoe, so we were not at all surprised to learn this was their first trip. As they moved on, Ben and I finished lunch and considered the bathtub-like quality our canoe had taken on in the drenching. We untied its painter and hopped in. It was only a short way over to the portage. We could flip and empty her there. We caught up with the "rookies" at the hump of bald Canadian Shield rock, the portage entrance.

What happened next was the unfortunate highlight of Day One.

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.

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Like in your account, Tom, these dudes didn't have a clue.

I find that true stories are often stranger than fiction.

Later,

Jimbo   

My "personal best" was in the BWCA on my first trip.  There were six of us, three young uns' and three mature types.  I was carrying a Spirit II and coming to the end of the portage.  I noticed a log laying out into the water.  The three young uns' were just dropping their loads and waiting for me so they could start loading. I thought I'd just walk out on the log and "flip" the canoe into the water.  I made it out onto the log OK but when I went to "flip" the boat my foot slipped and we went in together, boat on top.  After I crawled out and did an inventory of hurts (arm, leg, head, hand, etc)  I happen to notice the three young uns' laughing their butts off!  I should have charged them for the entertainment!   

My scariest one was not portaging but loading my Roylex onto my car top.  My wife and I had just completed a multi day trip down the Nabakagon and St. Croix Rivers.  We were at a very nice boat launch complete with concrete ramp.  How good does that get?  Anyway, as I was going around the vehicle to get into position to put the beast on top the car I moved sideways for clearance.  My foot hit a rock and I tipped over away from the car.  The boat went flying but as I fell my head hit a large rock on the way down.  Day turned to night briefly as the stars came out and danced around for a few seconds.  My wife, the nurse, kept asking me if I was OK.  I said "of course".  She later told me that one eye was pointed one way and the other another way!  If that rock had been pointed rather than round I probably wouldn't be typing this. 

mpeebles wrote on Jul 14^th, 2019 at 1:01pm:


I've learned the hard way that those welcoming logs are often moss-covered and when wet they are like stepping on a greased log. IF possible with my footwear choice I like to be on solid footing even if it's underwater. 

  A nurse that canoes! That could come in handy. 

These are great stories!  Anybody that actually goes out there has a bunch of them.  Hopefully I'll be able to collect more of them.   Wiped out three times in Quetico earlier this year but only one was even worthy of honorable mention.  Broke through some sticks on a bog walk and Newton's law of gravity rapidly took over.  I find it interesting as to how far a canoe can actually fly before crashing.  Took me a while to find it OR it might have taken me a while to get out of the muck, I forget which.

In a past life, I used to have to fill out accident reports along with a corrective action.  I would tell my boss that I couldn't fix clumsy or stupid.  Glad I don't have to do them for myself now

My trip is in two weeks...I'm afraid to post here for fear I'll set a new personal worst!