Canoeing in the Snow – a true story (aka not a time to go cannuding)

Nope – not a time. And actually this has nothing to do with cannuding (the practice of canoeing in the nude). I just thought it made the title sound more intriguing.
This is a true story told to me by a canoeing partner. It's about him, not me, and how he went on his first canoe trip ever – actually his first time being in a canoe or even seeing a real canoe – not a picture. He was a phd student at the same university as I went to. I think I met him through a mutual friend. She must of known we were both big on canoes. I must apologize as I can't even remember his name. Hey it was more than 30 years ago. But isn't that the way. Can't remember this great friend's name but can't get names of my enemies out of my mind. Even after writing stories where the my real bullies are thinly disguised and killed off (in the story).
He is German. He told me that Germans were basically obsessed with a few things. Alf the TV show, canoeing (or dreams of) and going to Canada to go canoeing. So when he arrived in Canada for school, he immediately went and bought a used station wagon. It was October by the time he had his phd scientific equipment set up. And away he went canoeing. He had heard of this place called Algonquin Park and thought that was the perfect place to start/learn to canoe. By this time, it was October and almost a holiday in Canada called Thanksgiving. So better go before that to beat the crowds.
He and a friend arrived in the park. He said there was even this place called Canoe Lake. Seemed like a perfect start in a perfect place. And the place rented canoes. The only thing was they were surprised there wasn't anyone else there. Such luck though the canoe rental man gave them a strange look – didn't say anything, just a strange look. Canoe lake isn't a huge lake so they quickly headed to the first portage. The 2 completely novice canoeists learned quickly – they had read lots of books and seen paddling on TV. He said he felt like a voyageur.
So here was a portage. They were strong but decided that checking the portage first was a good idea rather than carrying everything. It wasn't as it turned out. No bears, that's good. Sudden cold and heavy snow, that's bad. Very suddenly they lost track of the portage that was very quickly covered in snow. Yup, they were lost in the bush with no gear at all. My friend was level headed at least and knew the direction that the lake was. So they bushwacked through the dense forest. He said they got scared as they realized they could not retrace even their lost tracks as they were covered in snow. Later he laughed about not being able to leave a path of bread crumbs. But yes, they did find the lake but no sight of the canoe. They followed the edge of the lake back through mushy swamp land followed by slippery rocks. They were exhausted when they got back to the canoe and their supplies. The fact that they had survived was really a feat. The other positive was that they had practiced putting up their new tent. All they could do was get into the tent and collapse into their sleeping bags.
There can be a special feeling when one wakes up in a tent. Still cozy in your sleeping bag, you unzip the tent door to see the sun coming up. Very soon you won't need a sweater. There is a pile of leftover firewood from the night before so there is a deep sense of peace when your one match fire begins to boil your coffee.
In my friend's case – well this wasn't the case. The tent being heavy with snow was bad. The snow had stopped. That was good. It was much colder. That was bad. Their beloved Canoe Lake where they had lost their canoe virginity, was frozen. Now that was very bad. The ice hadn't yet gotten totally thick yet which was a life saver. Quickly they were back in the canoe with tents and such just thrown in as quickly as possible. Even they knew that beating the ice was going to be paramount. Perhaps what happens if they are in the middle of the lake and the ice gets too thick to paddle and too thin to walk. They didn't exactly have Eddie Bauer down. But this didn't happen. They had to break through the ice every part of the way. A new use of a paddle.
My friend said the rental man 's look was even stranger when they got back. Maybe he thought they were goners. They tried to get dry. Drove to the nearest food and then the long ride back to university. One might think this would be the end of my friend's canoeing days. His canoeing partner did indeed decide this way. But all my friend did was sit out the winter and dream of his next canoe trip. He spent much of the spring, summer and fall canoeing. Not too early, not too late in the season as he never wanted to mix canoes and ice again. He quickly became an expert canoeist. By the time we went canoeing he was better than me and had discovered this thing called whitewater. And he had many mornings peacefully lighting a morning fire and telling me of his other trips.
This was his routine. His phd at university involved very complex research with a very large, very noisy machine. So everyone left him alone when the machine was on. He would turn on his machine on Friday afternoons and go canoeing for nine days or so to be back by a Monday as he did have to do some school work. I went with him as often as possible. His best story (besides the above Canoe Lake trip) was about the Finger Lakes in New York State and how there were small towns where Hurricane Hazel in 1954 had wiped out all the roads in so now the cars were all from 1954 and earlier. Kinda like Cuba but way closer. I'm sad we didn't get to do that trip. He eventually returned to Germany and I lost track of him. Even tough I can't remember his name, I do get to tell others the story of Canoe Lake in the snow. The best time being around the morning one match fire.