Arrive Alive….What I learned from a canoe trip

We recently survived a multi-day canoe trip on the Bowron Lakes. This canoe circuit is considered “iconic” in the canoe world. Is “iconic” the same as “epic”? I’m just asking for a friend…..

I surprised myself by signing up for the trip. I am not a huge fan of canoeing. The first 30 minutes is pleasant but after that, we should probably think of something else to do. The Bowron circuit was 116 km. During the trip, our top paddling speed was 4km per hour. 116 km…. you do the math. Epic was often a good daily descriptive.

The week before we left was not peaceful in our house. I had never packed for a wilderness trip and due to the nature of the trip, we could only pack 60 pounds per canoe. Anything over 60 pounds would have to be carried in backpacks. We had 2 canoes for myself, my husband Wayne and two of our kids Owen (14) and Megan (21). Between the four of us, we needed to plan to be self sufficient for 8 days and 7 nights. This included food, tents, sleeping bags, stoves, personal gear, toilet paper, coffee and red wine. And in that order. Sixty pounds seems ample until you start packing. My stress level started to rise.

We arrived at Bowron Lakes on September 7th. It was not warm. I don’t often have to go to bed with a toque, gloves and down jacket, If I was worried about fitting 60 pounds in a canoe, my new worry was potentially fighting frost bite. Huddling for warmth was a new family game. The next day we hit the registration office and got the run down on what to expect for our canoe expedition. My favourite line was “some portage trails might be wet“. That was truly the biggest understatement of the year. It was like saying the rain forest might be “damp”.

To start the circuit, you have to weigh your gear. I dislike scales at the best of times and this time was no different. It became clear that I had overpacked. I thought the 16 litre jug to hold water was a great idea. Also, I had filled it from home so we could have “nice” water. Wayne looked at me like I was crazy. How would we carry 16 litres of water? Also, we were canoeing on lakes where we would likely have access to water; plenty of water. He pulled out a collapsible bucket. Fine. The jug, along with my fanny pack, pillow and other small incidentals went back to the truck but I wasn’t budging on the wine or the Fireball.

Through the grace of the ranger turning a blind eye, we made the 60 pound limit per canoe and headed off on the trail. Keep in mind, to make that 60 pounds, my other “extra’s” had to fit in our backpacks. Great. Crossfit just became part of our canoe experience.

The first leg of the trip was a 2km portage. Uphill. When you say “2 km” it feels manageable, when you have to do it while pulling / pushing a canoe, it’s a whole other experience. Also there is swearing involved. Plenty of swearing. And that section of the portage that might be “wet”? Try knee deep in mud. As I continued to pull (and swear), I also had to eat humble pie. That damn water jug never would have made it past the first km. Wayne was right but I don’t think he had to smile smugly.

At the end of day one, we were very pleased having completed 6km of portages and then paddling 11km. Our sense of success was short lived as we ran the numbers and realized that if we kept this pace, we would likely run out of food (and red wine). We needed to take it up a notch. Day two saw us complete 35 km in the canoe. For someone who doesn’t love canoeing, this was a stretch for me. I was paired with my daughter Megan (21) who was dubbed the Captain. She was magnificent. I was the Assistant to the Captain and possibly mediocre. After nine hours of being on the lake, we made camp for the night. Thank goodness because at hour eight, I had stopped feeling my arms and shoulders. If only a good night sleep could be had on a thermarest.

Since my training for this canoe trip had been exactly “nothing”, I shouldn’t have been surprised that I could barely lift my arms or even bust a move on day three. I knew I should have packed my foam roller. Note to self, leave water jug and pack the damn roller. Without a roller, I improvised and found a log round on the beach; not perfect but enough to crack everything back into action. Just another 65 km to go……

I went on this adventure because I was standing still in my life. I was hoping that this trip would bring an epiphany of new direction, maybe inspiration and certainly some connection. I was drawing upon all sorts of cheesy metaphors as I paddled my way through pain; “the best view comes after the hardest climb”, “it’s not the mountain we conquer, it is ourselves”, “and into the wild I go to lose my mind and find myself”…… Inspiring but not overly helpful. Advil is helpful.

I kept up the cheesy metaphors and let the Advil take hold. I watched how the scenery unfolded. It was immense and beyond spectacular. The water was so still and everything was quiet. The mountains were perfectly mirrored on the lake and it was hard to figure out where one started and the reflection began. It was like heaven and earth meeting as one. Matthew 6:10 kept coming to mind; “on earth, as it is in heaven“. What if this is really true? I thought about my feeling of smallness in context of the larger world. Where do I fit and why. What do I bring to the table of life? What have I been given that I could give more of and why do I allow my mental madness to muck things up? So often my thoughts are centred on “what might happen” and not in a good way. Here is a sample of my mental commentary……. “What if the canoe tips?” “What if we can’t find a camping spot?” “What if all my menu planning is all wrong?” What if we run out of wine?” “What if I can’t figure out what to do for the rest of my life?”

So often my “What If…..” movie is long and kind of negative. As I gazed upwards and reflected inwards, I decided I could change the story line. I asked myself “what might happen” in the spirit of wonder and optimism instead of fear and worry. I asked “what could happen” with an expectation of things working out. It’s me that has to change the story line.

OK. So I have now solved my inner dialogue issues. Good talk. My next challenge was to try canoeing with my husband.

This should be easy, except that marriage isn’t easy. Canoeing is an ideal metaphor for marriage. It is beautiful to glide over the calm but it sure gets tippy in rough waters. I put on the life jacket and looked for the bailing bucket.

For the record. I was paddling hard. I didn’t feel that there was any need for him to keep saying “you never listen“. That’s not true. I always listen to Wayne. It’s that sometimes I think my way is better and I choose to ignore what he said. That is very different than not listening.

You can see where this is going……

One “thing” becomes the next “thing” which suddenly becomes that “thing” that you have been avoiding talking about. In our case, we weren’t paddling in the same direction and that’s been the case for a while. Without anywhere to go, or any distractions, we had a sudden opportunity to talk about this “thing”.

I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice to say that I was left wondering if I should have just listened to his canoe instructions. Instead, I heard that I could be the new star in the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You”. Not the role I was hoping for after 26 years of marriage. I learned that I have been an irritant to my husband. My spreadsheets (control), my constant concern (panic / worry) and a few other choice attributes had lost their endearment over the past little while.

I get it. I live with myself and on many days, I wish that I could escape me. I have always been in awe of my family being able to put up with me and have always been indebted to them that they have turned a blind eye to some of my less than flattering attributes. Well, at least until we went canoeing.

That night, I went to bed wondering if I had somehow ended up as a cliche. Girl meets boy, girl helps put boy through school while raising children and working full time. Boy grows up, gets great job and outgrows his wife. Frick. I hate being a cliche. I never know what to wear.

If it hadn’t been for COVID, I think I could have avoided this whole conversation but COVID caused chaos. My career of 25 years went up in flames and I don’t know who or what I am anymore. I look around and it seems like everyone else is managing and I wonder why I can’t just figure it out and take next steps. The control and panic buttons were kicked up a notch and after six months of impacts from a pandemic and life uncertainty, the storm blew and the canoe almost tipped. Great trip team. I can’t wait until we do a multi day hiking holiday.

Don’t panic. It sounds bad and it wasn’t fabulous except that it was. It’s messy in the middle and this was really messy but we got to talk about it. We named the “thing” that was growing between us; growing between us all. And we kept talking and listening.

When I asked for “connection”, I’m not sure that this is what I had in mind but it’s what happened. Without life distractions, the conversation got honest and deep. There’s no exit door on a lake. What I had been feeling, my family had been feeling too. It was hard to hear it all said out loud but it was good. Really good.

There were also plenty of moments where we laughed. It was these awesome moments of laughter that cushioned the “other” moments and helped us to keep the connection.

If you want a good read that changes your heart, mind and soul, consider The Power of One. It’s incredible with a rich storyline and it is filled with meaningful and thoughtful quotes. My favourite quote has always been “if you have a question, bring it to nature and you shall find the answer.” Before the trip, I had been asking questions about how to better connect but I wasn’t getting great response. I think I had been making myself busy; too busy to really listen. It was the quiet of the lake that gave me pause and the time to hear to what my family needed to tell me. So you see Wayne, I do listen but I’m still ignoring you when it comes to buying a tractor.

And that’s what happened. It’s not what I expected. I had been hoping for my own “burning bush” moment complete with a modern day, customized version of the 10 Commandments. Ideally, it would have arrived by text and link to a podcast but I guess it doesn’t work like that. That would have been simple. No, I had to paddle 96 km and portage 10 km with my family and dive into super uncomfortable conversations. A burning bush seems so much simpler.

The realization is that I have been worried but worrying hasn’t made anything better and sure won’t make anything in the future better either. Worry is just going to make me crazy. Not a good crazy, but a “crazy” crazy. One that brings on wrinkles and makes me eat chips.

So back to the question. What would happen if I asked the “what if” question with wonder and optimism on a daily basis? What would change? Could I really start to believe that everything works out in the end?

Right now it’s messy. I am in in the mud but Bowron Lakes gave me new life, new hope and new perspective. Things are not the same thanks to COVID and I am not the same. Our canoe trip was not “perfect” but it was amazing. I will always cherish the memories. Yes, it was uncomfortable but it was also so many other things. There were as many laughs as there were awkward moments. There were also long stretches of time where I never wanted it to end. For someone who definitely doesn’t love canoeing, this was a big deal. I learned so much and let go of even more.

I don’t know what is next but I do know that I have to give up a need to control outcomes and lay down worry. I am going to believe that in amidst this big, beautiful messy world, there is a plan and in that plan, I have a place. I also still have a place with my family and they have a place with me. It’s been tricky these past six months and I just want it to jump to the end of the story and see how it work out but that’s not how a journey works. It’s a continuum and the change is in the perspective.

For now, I am going to keep paddling. I will embrace the adventure and hold on to letting go. That’s an oxymoron that will keep me busy.

Here’s to making the jump; to doing hard things, embracing difficult conversations and trusting that things always work out in the end.

Shelley