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We
drive through light rain to the Englishman River and slide the
Chestnut canoe down the bank into shallow water. Six year old Adam
slithers after it, puts one foot inside and the canoe slips sideways
from under him. He corrects just in time and soon we are off down the
shallow summer-time river. The rain comes down in torrents.
Soon
we come to the first rocky set of rapids, land to check them out and
decide to lead the empty canoe down the edge. Adam takes the stern
line and together we drag it through to calmer water. Almost
immediately we come upon another chute and after scouting this one I
decide that we can shoot it. We gather speed and rush downhill only
to get hung up on shallows at the bottom. My elderly wood and canvas
canoe creaks, leans to one side and Adam says anxiously ”Are we
going to sink Granddaddy?” But no, I calmly step into the water,
slide us into deeper water and we are off again, steering through
narrow passages between rocks and soon we are into the calmer waters
of the estuary.
Adam
strokes away up in the bow with his new paddle that I have carved to
fit him and we enter the strange world of high gravel bars that we
wend our way through, still sliding down hill on a low and falling
tide. Then the sea, some small breaking waves we bounce through
around the point and finally we work together to haul the canoe on
pieces of driftwood to the high tide line near a taking out place.
The
storm had drifted off to sea, things are brightening up and it is now
time to walk back along trail to get the car left at the dropping off
place. We find wild blackberry vines and stop several times to gorge
ourselves, learn to discriminate dark red from really ripe by taste
test, and eventually the car is there ahead and we drive back to the
beach. We load the canoe first and then eat our lunch companionably
like intrepid voyageurs. Our short journey was exciting but nearly
all of it was in shallow water - an adventure cut to size for a
small boy and an elderly canoe.
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