This is a story of introduction to white water kayaking and how neglecting preparation can make for type-II fun adventures.
When I introduced my partner Ruth to Quebec, we were looking for some outdoor adventures. The lack of mountains and poor condition of the bikes we had borrowed from friends left her unimpressed about the quality of mountain biking.
As we were driving one morning, debating whether we’d go for a hike, a bike or something else, she asked me: “What is there to do in Quebec that we haven’t done in Yukon?”. I thought for a moment and replied we could go whitewater kayaking. It was a warm August and it made sense to discover an easy river.
I started looking at a few websites and the topo maps on my phone for a beginner friendly river with some whitewater. It couldn’t be too boring.
The next logical step was to make sure we found paddling equipment. MEC to the rescue, they had some boats and all the safety gear. Excited, we went back 35km south to Montreal despite having previously driven the opposite way to go biking. We rented the boats, loaded them on top of a police-car looking black Malibu outfitted with pool noodles and drove back north to the river. I was confident my father would forgive the unavoidable scratches on the paint that this adventure would create.
When we arrived, we organized our shuttle with our friends’ bicycles which we stashed in a bush near the take-out. After paddling this section, we would have to bike 18 km back.
By the time we were back at the put-in, sick from all the driving, and mostly ready, it was already midafternoon. As we were packing the boats for the excursion, Ruth asked me if I was bringing some spare pants. I’m not sure what I was thinking, maybe my drybag was getting full, so I replied “No”. Following my perfect advice about not bringing spare clothes on such a sunny and summer warm day, Ruth removed her pants from her bag.
The initiation to kayaking went well, I was happy at how quickly Ruth picked it up. We reached a point where we had to portage though we didn’t know where the trail was. It took us some time to find our way because of the thick forest and I started thinking about the timing of our adventure. It was certain we would be biking back in the dark and… maybe we would have to sleep on the river. I did not say anything about it because I didn’t want to worry Ruth on her first kayaking experience.
The next section was meandering through a deciduous forest. It was a contemplative moment. A stork was leading us down the river, flying up short lengths at a time. There were ducks trying to hide from us by diving and resurfacing at random locations. At one point, contemplation gave way to worry. Our progress was much slower than anticipated, the day was coming to an end, and we would be paddling in the dark. We were also running out of water. This is not a river I would want to drink from. To top all this, there was also one more rapid we would have to negotiate with our headlamps.
Carefully, we kept navigating until we looked at each other. In the distance, we could hear the distinct sound of white water. We got out of our boats to look at the map despite the poor cell connectivity.
A little trail grabbed my attention, we followed it into the forest and noticed a camper trailer. We approached, knocked on the door. Nothing. I lifted the handle and, to our surprise, it was unlocked. Inside, a jug full of water was waiting for us. I felt like heaven was taking care of us! We would have a place for the night.
This is about as much hospitality as we got from the place. The camper was barebone, no cushions, no food, no neighbors. It was time to change out of our wet swimsuit only to remember we had no spare clothes. Our small quick-dry camping towels were transformed into constantly falling-off skirts.
It was also time to have dinner. We inventoried our food and we did not have many options: 2 Clif Bars and a third of a salami. With a laugh and thinking about the next breakfast, we set to eat half of what we had. I have had much better food on all my other paddling trips.
Once the feast was over, we went to sleep. The wooden platform on which we were resting was terribly uncomfortable. To improve our comfort, we improvised a mattress with some bright orange old-school Canadian Tire PFD we had found in the camper. Nighttime was still warm but I could feel the contrast with the day. My towel was not keeping enough heat and I would have liked a blanket. The best I could arrange for myself was to wrap a kid’s sweater around my feet.
It was a full moon and it was incredibly bright. The moon kept shining straight on my face through the small window for what felt like the entire night. The combination of discomfort and brightness kept me in a half awake state contemplating how many poor decisions we had made in our preparation. Despite that, I was feeling grateful to be in this camper and to have been paddling with Ruth.
In the early morning of another gorgeous day, we ate the rest of our food, swept the pile of sand off the floor, wrote a thank you note and left. In the daylight, the following rapid didn’t look like much. At least, we had made the right call to stop ahead.
We made our way back to the bicycles. I found it a lot more enjoyable (and safer) to be paddling and biking back to the car in the daytime. The experience did not dissuade us from planning another trip on a different river, though this time, we would not let the “warm summer vacation mindset” prevent us from being fully prepared for a day on the river.
