Mordecai and Irving Take a Wrong Turn Down the Right Street

Mordecai and Irving should have known better – they just should have. It seemed there was no escape now. Well, that’s to say, no clean escape. The ice blocks marched down the river like a million Pro-Lifers at the Roe v. Wade trial. They had even missed the island. They never missed that island. Thrashing around on the leeward side of another island, the two eventually made their way to the jump off. But that was of no value either – springtime in Baie James is still springtime in Baie James. Irving suggested to wait it out. It’s probably just a phase. Mordecai considered the idea and laughed absurdly at the thought of passing a summer’s day in the same position; That is with a tall can and shorts, otherwise known as Chinese Brunch.

Meanwhile, the ice continued unabated and toes numbed incrementally. By now, an hour of observation and wishful thinking had passed, but an escape plan had yet to hatch. Increasingly desperate, the duo reached a consensus where they would claw their way down the eddy and attempt a 45 degree cut through current running upwards to 25 km/h. For no apparent reason, Mordecai thought this plan would work. Irving strongly disagreed. But at this point, the struggle for surviving unscathed strong outweighed the dream to keep their respective vessels intact.

Upon reaching the alternative escape route, pessimism mounted to the point where Mordecai and Irving actually stopped laughing at their predicament for a moment. Neither of them had signed up for this. Truth be told, neither of them had even considered this situation. Irving had spent the past two days reveling in the splendid weather and river cruising. Mordecai sat at a desk, observing the splendid weather, dreaming of river cruising. And here they were, stranded in the fog. Did I mention the fog was as thick as a Wendy’s Frosty? It was. But we’ll see how that comes in to play later.

Mordecai mounted a half submerged rock to survey the possibilities of the crossing. Nothing positive to say about it. Minutes passed. Irving didn’t like the thought of the submerged rock posing as a waterfall. The two bantered back and forth, then forth and back. This is why God invented the NSP, Mordecai thought to himself. Finally, they decided to take the plunge. Mordecai went first. Too easy. Irving paddled across. Success. They looked at one another in disbelief.

Through the meat and potatoes of the situation and nothing but cruising back to the shore line. I did mention the fog, didn’t I? Maximum visibility of 15 feet, which is approximately 5 meters for the metrically inclined. There was a general idea where the shore line was, but no one knew for sure. Irving set off at a calm pace and Mordecai trailed behind. Before long, they had completely lost any sense of direction and we actually paddling upstream. They realized this soon enough, based on the difficulty in paddling and revised their tack. Once the current calmed to virtually zero, they lost their last available compass. It must have been 30 minutes by now? The two were stumped. No idea where the shore was, their location and almost zero chance to step aside from drunken pleasure boaters. Warm pee ran down Mordecai’s leg. He had been holding it for this long, but the thought of actually being lost in a fog bank required total calm and an empty bladder.

The slow paddle through the fog bank ensued for another 10 minutes when Irving spotted a boat. The thought escaped them for a moment as the discussion ran from getting lost in the desert to the bleakness of the prairie landscape. Turned out Irving was right. There was a boat and not only that, there was shoreline. And interestingly enough, it was the exact beach they normally exit the water to eat Almando poutine, hit Bronx Books and refuel on Milwaukee Dry. Chanceux en ostie!