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Astral Avenger
2013-04-09, 09:31 PM
Notes:

I originally wrote this for a writing class in high school, 6-10 page story about something that happened to you in the past year, easiest 'A' ever...
Names have been changed.
This is an entirely true story, I was in this group and everything described happened.
This was October 2012 in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.


If someone wants to tell me how you do superscript on the forum that would be awesome.
I showed this to a couple of friends and the said it was good, so I decided to post it. Hope you enjoy. :smallsmile:

The Story:
We were in deep s-.

This was not the kind of trouble that you can get into while in suburbia, this was the kind that requires that you be at least a day of paddling from the nearest road and that it now be night. What was the problem? Nothing too bad, one highly inept trip leader who thought she knew what she was doing. She didn't.

Talia, the official leader, insisted that we paddle in a small cluster of canoes. Not a problem if every canoe knows how to steer well, but very inconvenient if half of the canoes can’t go straight. Bad with the stoves and worse with fire, she made several rules that grossly limited what we could do. She had been placed in charge of the trip because she was wilderness first aid certified and more importantly, she was 25. As a legal adult she was assumed to be competent by the organization we were going through.

I was one of the two strongest paddlers along with Cody. Experience from backpacking in areas with fire bans meant I was the only person who could use the stoves without causing them to turn into literal fireballs. Like Talia, I was wilderness first aid certified and, unlike her, both highly competent and intolerant of unrecognized incompetency. I began canoeing when I was five and now have over 600 miles1 of wilderness canoeing and several months spent on camping trips and canoeing expeditions to my name, I had more experience than Talia in wilderness travel and cooking, and I had actually used the first aid training before. My experience is great enough that I have been invited to go on a month long canoe trip in northern Canada this summer2.

Of the three people certified in wilderness first aid on the trip, Talia was the one with the least confidence or experience in both wilderness travel and medicine. She was so bad at wilderness medicine that I would much rather have Ted as a medic than her, despite Ted having no formal training. Her experience looked good on paper, several hundred miles "paddled" and five hours a day five days a week for a summer of canoeing, but paper means nothing to nature except as a fuel source for fire. This “experience” blinded her to the fact that there were much stronger paddlers with her. She was a good enough paddler to keep the canoe in a straight line barring six-inch ripples or wind blowing above ten miles per hour3. On a lake with a fetch4 of over a mile, both of those should be considered constants. Yet she was calling the shots. Her experience consisted of leading day trips down river where the total paddling consisted of moving the canoe into the main current when they launched and landing it at the end. The miles and time canoeing were both from drifting slowly down a few mile stretch of river. A blind monkey can do that.

As a testament to her lack of wilderness experience, she encouraged us to bring deodorant on the trip. If deodorant is worn on a trip where showering is not possible it can cause painful rashes that are prone to infection.
Our group consisted of nine people; our ever so skillful leader Talia, Sara, Hanna, Niki, Sam, Lean, Cody, Ted and me. We had four canoes, five personal packs, two food packs, three tents, a cook kit and a first-aid kit. The total weight of our gear including canoes was about 700 lbs.

Sara was a senior in high school with no canoeing experience. She preferred to try something her way before doing it as instructed. She would sing very short, repetitive songs for what felt like hours at a time. She learned quickly that the easiest way to get a fire going was to ask Ted, Cody or me to start one and then distract Hanna.

Hanna, the stickler for the rules, decided early on in the trip that all our ‘problems’ were the three guys fault. As a city girl from California things like not having perfectly level spots for the tents, rain and not knowing exactly where we were to the nanometer were major problems to her. To people with noteworthy wilderness experience, these are some of the best parts of the outdoors. The only time she would do her full share of the work was when she helped cook meals. I never saw her do dishes, filter water or help with a tent, the only faux pas on trail is sitting back and making others carry the slack.

Niki, a lightly built fencer, had a perpetually good attitude and was a skilled roaster of summer sausage, which was called ‘chub’ on trail. She would do more than her share of the work after about eleven am when she went from mechanically doing her tasks to being fully awake. She could rarely get a fire started, but could keep one going despite rain or wind.

Sam, called Sam, refused to see bad in anything. A master of grabbing recently roasted chub while no one was looking, we would often see her licking her fingers as Niki would bemoan, “Damn it Sam, I roasted that for ME!” She had no canoeing experience before the trip. Under my tutelage, she became a decent bower, or the paddler in the bow of the boat.

Ted, always peppy and optimistic, he was the strongest person on the trip. A strong paddler and good at starting and growing fire he is a valuable person to have on any wilderness trip. Taught outdoor skills by his father, he is more than qualified as an outdoorsman. He has A.D.D. and would occasionally chase chipmunks away from our food packs by running after them, flailing his arms and screaming like a possessed lemur. Whenever his canoe would come near another, he would inevitably splash the occupants. He would then start whistling and looking everywhere but the canoe he just splashed with a huge, poorly repressed, self-satisfied grin on his visage.

Cody, one of the strongest paddlers in the group, he boasts about 700 miles5 of canoeing on flat water, up and down river. He is wilderness first aid certified and possesses numerous eccentricities that he blames on cobalt poisoning from his work as a potter. Most of the eccentricities have no connection to cobalt poisoning recognized by the medical community.

Lean, one of the two official leaders of the trip, she recognized that many of the people had more skill in various areas than she did and was willing to step down before superior experience. Unfortounately, she believed that Talia had more experience than she did and thus deferred to her on nearly everything. She would never say that we could not do something, instead saying, “I don’t think we’re allowed to do that.”

Our problems may have been exacerbated by our leadership, but an annoying, overbearing leader is not a serious problem. Our real problem was that one of the three people who were competent enough to help the group in this kind of situation was sick.

Deathly sick.

So sick that we thought kidney or liver failure was a potential cause. Talia and Lean were panicking; they called our base camp twice already. Cody and I weren't worried. Yet.

Our assessment of Ted’s condition was that he would last until at least noon the next day, by which time we could have paddled out, called for pick up and gotten him to a hospital. Cody and I had the combined experience of at least 1,200 miles in canoes, and the navigational ability to make the five-mile trip out in less than two hours in ideal conditions.

Talia's assessment was, "Oh crap, oh crap, o crap."

The real problem was we did not have good conditions. We had no sunny days, calm water and 70 degree weather. What we had was the black of night, a ceaseless rain that started two days earlier, 40 degree weather and a very incompetent leader who would not allow us to make the journey even if it became necessary. For Cody, Ted and me, traveling on cold rainy days is no greater challenge than on warm sunny days. Put me in charge and we would have been back (at the base camp) before sunset, shortly after we knew Ted was in trouble. If I hadn’t been distracted by doing double my share of the work, Ted probably wouldn't have been in trouble to begin with. If Talia had done her share of the work, Ted might not have been as exhausted from picking up the slack and prone to sickness. But I was not in charge, Talia was. She wasted so much time trying to figure out what was wrong and then deciding what to do that Cody and I were able to decide that the ideal course of action was to bring Ted back and have enough time left to act on it before sunset if permitted. When it is cold and rainy the lakes are usually fairly calm. While following a straight line with a compass is easy. You determine your heading with the map and then follow that until you hit the opposite shore. With experience, even a crosswind is easily accounted for in your heading.

She spent an hour trying to call our headquarters, then another hour talking to Ted to figure out exactly what was wrong. Cody had five minutes of observation while we were putting up the bear bag6 and he knew exactly what was wrong. What more, he knew how to treat it, but that is not where the troubles began.

It began the day before, despite that being day three of our trip. It was rainy; it was cold, but it was not unendurable. We all had decent rain gear and more importantly warm layers. Being wet for days at a time is not bad for you. It may not be good, but it shouldn’t cause any serious health problems. Being cold, either frostbite or hypothermia can prove to be fatal.

We got into camp fairly late, a fact which bothered both Cody and me. We would have liked to do the day’s easy four mile paddle in 2 hours or less, which would have put us in camp well before lunch. Instead we got into camp with only an hour and a half to sunset. Our travels had been particularly slow that day. Talia had been especially fixated on keeping our canoes close together, even going so far as to make the lead canoe turn around in the middle of a lake to come back to the group. On a huge lake like Lake Winnipeg7 or Lac la Croix that could be understandable, both lakes often have waves high enough to conceal a canoe from two hundred yards away. This was not a large lake though; it was less than a mile across and had no waves aside from the miniscule wake of the canoes.

Arriving in camp, Cody and I immediately began gathering wood for a fire. Fire is warmth, warmth is comfort. Fire is light, light is comforting. Fire is the primary concern when it is cold. Food is remarkably unnecessary for human survival. We could go a week without food and still be functioning well8. Get wet and go an hour without warm clothes on a rainy, 40 degree night and most people will be severly hypothermic.

Talia decided it was more important to get our tent up than gather firewood, so she tells us to go put it up. She decides to come watch us put it up. The tent is a two person job at most. Day one Ted put it up alone and day two, Ted and Cody had the tent up in less than 90 seconds from our deciding where it would go. She insisted that all three of the guys help and counting her, we have twice as many people as we should working on the tent. Not only does she not know how to set up the tent, she insists on having us set it up incorrectly. We had set it up in under 5 minutes every time before, but it takes a half an hour before we can get it up with her “helping.” We throw our stuff inside and go back to getting firewood. She says something along the lines of, “See how much easier it is when everyone works together.” I barely manage to repress a long string of profanity. Based on Cody’s face, he is repressing a similar outburst. We’re on trail, we’re used to swearing like sailors when we’re in the woods. Ted mentions that he is cold and sick to his stomach.

Lean managed to get dinner ready while we were working on the tent and Sam and Niki are trying to get a fire started. It’s not going to happen for them. They can usually get a fire started in ideal conditions, but this is very wet wood. Ted and I try to intervene, but Hanna looks up from her book and objects.

She says that “the guys have like been building all the fires and it’s the girls turn.” She is not working on the fire. Sam and Niki both know that they won’t get a fire going without a lot of luck. They both want fire, they don’t care who makes it. Niki even tossed Ted the lighter when she saw him walking towards them. Once Ted and I manage to override Hanna’s ridiculous opposition by glaring briefly and then ignoring her irritating shrieks, we have a jovial blaze going in a few minutes.

Dinner is some stew, flattened bagels with peanut butter, jelly, cheese and chub heated over the fire and a granola bar. After we finish eating, Ted is feeling worse and Cody goes back to our tent with him while the rest of us are putting up the bear bag. Talia goes to the tent to check on Ted. I go back to the tent to go to sleep. I don’t need to check on Ted. I trust Cody and he is as qualified to care for Ted as I am. If he needs help in caring for Ted he would have called. He didn’t. Ted is wrapped up in his sleeping bag and groaning. Cody says his symptoms have expanded to include hurting to move, dizziness and a loss of depth perception. We put a space blanket over his sleeping bag to keep him warmer. That is all we can do for now. I get in my bag and sleep.

Thirty minutes later I am woken up by Talia and Lean’s head lamps. They bring a pot to Ted at Cody's sugestion in case he throws up in the night and take his temperature. They leave, I go to sleep.

Someone punches me in the kidney, I jolt awake and Ted moans that he just threw up. Cody had the foresight to grab a pot when he brought Ted back. I start to go dispose of the pot in the biffy, but Ted says I should go to alert Talia and Lean instead. It’s a nice walk to their tent. The air is cold against my legs and arms and it is misting lightly. Our leaders take a moment to wake up, before they start getting up to go over to the guys’ tent. I head back before them. It’s too cold to wait around in the rain in shorts and a t-shirt. They arrive and dispose of the sick. I go back to sleep.

Ted nails me in the kidney, I jolt awake and he moans that he just threw up. I go to alert Talia and Lean. They start getting up to go over to the guys’ tent, and I head back before them. They arrive and dispose of the sick. Talia asks me if I have a compass and whistle with me. I say no. I figured it was at most a 100 yard walk between the two tents on an established trail. We had seen tracks indicating that there were wolves in the camp that morning, so Talia was scared. Wolves move quickly though and I knew that they were at least five miles away. I didn’t need a compass for that short of a trek or whistle for the distant wolves. I didn’t even bring my head lamp, the diffuse glow of the clouds provides enough light to walk the trail. I go back to sleep.

Ted punches me in the kidney, by this point I have a bruise there. He isn’t even trying to hit me there, he just flails his arm over and happens to nail me in the exact same spot every time. I jolt awake and he moans that he just threw up. I go to alert Talia and Lean. They start getting up to go over to the guys’ tent, and I head back before them. I’m asleep before they get there.
“TWEEEET,” I wake up. “TWEEEET,” Cody wakes up. I know because he mutters “What the f- is that?” while reaching for his knife. I had my knife ready before he said anything. Cody and I are used to bear country. The knives are not for self-defense, they are the fastest way out of a tent if a bear is forcing its way in, besides, a three inch pocket knife is next to useless against a bear. Their teeth are longer than that. We don’t hear a bear, so we flash a head lamp in the direction of the noise and see Talia preparing to blow her whistle a third time before she notices our light. She comes over and says she got lost and heard a horrible noise like a cross between a hyena-horse. She has no clue what it was. Ted says he heard a loon; I’m inclined to believe him, loons have some eerie calls. She takes his temperature and goes back.

I wake up. It is sunny, no, the clouds have thinned enough to see the sun through them. It is the first time in two days that it fully stopped raining.
Ted sits up. He says he’s feeling better. This is more evidence that Cody and I knew exactly what was wrong. Ted is one of the rare people whose body reflexively shunts blood away from the stomach when they get cold. This can cause cramping, stomachache, diarrhea, and vomiting. The best treatment on trail for this is to warm them up, preferably with hot water bottles near their major veins and arteries and weak tea while they’re wrapped up in a sleeping bag.

We slowly amble to the central camp while talking about the merits of using a straight shaft paddle against a bent shaft. We get to the fire ring and find Sara and Lean trying to light the stove to prepare a pancake breakfast.

Footnotes:

Current count is closer to 2000 miles, I’ve been busy in the year sense then.
I have again been invited to go on a trip this summer, it is planned to be 47 days paddling the Dubawnt and Thelon rivers in Canada. We will be within a two degrees of latitude of the arctic circle for most of the trip.
Cody and I have both paddled canoes laden with over one thousand pounds of gear and people in three foot waves with the wind gusting at thirty miles per hour. It is very difficult and strenuous, but sometimes it is necessary.
The distance that wind travels over a lake is called fetch. If a lake with a fetch of over a mile is calm and the sky is threatening, an experienced outdoorsman gets off as fast as possible because a severe storm is about to hit. The last time this happened to me, I missed getting hit by a tornado by half a mile, and avoided getting struck by lightning by 100 feet. That was a fun storm.
I believe his current count is around 1500 miles, he was on the month long invitational trip with me last summer.
A bear bag is a bag containing your food and any other smelly items like toothpaste or chapstick. It is hung from a tree branch at least 5 feet below the branch, 15 feet off the ground and 10’ from the trunk.
The trip Cody and I were on last summer ended on the shore of Lake Winnipeg. We had the pleasure of getting to fall asleep that night to the sound of 4 foot waves breaking 200 feet from our tent.
As long as you count cranky and irritable from hunger but able to run or carry packs if necessary.