Prompt #21, Rewrite!

On a beautiful day in June last year, I almost drowned.  But I prayed hard and made it to shore.  And once I got there, I almost drowned again.

It was the first day of our Allagash river trip, and it started full of promise.  By four in the evening we had paddled over ten miles, mostly lakes, and we were ready to call it a day.  We had one lake left to cross though.  Lake Usmaskis.

Our campsite was on the far side of the lake, and seeing it was a welcome sight.  But no sooner had we cheered our coming rest, than a vicious headwind picked up.  Sudden and terrible, the wind banished hope and stole our breath.  It immediately began to push our canoes backwards, despite our paddling.

Our group eddied up and chose to walk the canoes – paddling was next to impossible.  My partner and I had other plans though.  Campsite claiming is vicious on the river, lying and stealing is not uncommon.  So we decided that staking our claim on the campsite was our prime directive.   

Every stroke was painful to our already spent shoulders, backs, and arms.  But we couldn’t stop!  The wind to threatened to win with every gust.  

By now the waves crashed over the bow of our canoe, soaking us both.  My partner asked if I could swim, and I knew what was on both our minds.  Swamping.  If we turned broadside, then the waves could have their way with us.  If the waves had their way with us, then we would both be swimming.  I knew we were both strong swimmers, and I began calculating the distance to shore.  We were right in the center of the round lake, about three-quarters of a mile from shore on every side.  Any rescue attempts would be both useless and dangerous. We were good swimmers, but would that be enough in this choppy water?  

As I considered how alone we were, I remembered that I was never alone and began to pray.  Hard.  I was distracted with pleading, and my distraction turned us broadside.  My partner yelled to switch sides and paddle.  Hard!  I did, praying harder and pulling for all I was worth.  We bobbed like a cork in the waves, small and insignificant in the grand scheme of the river.  My renewed focus combined with his powerful strokes in the back finally turned us right again.

The thought of how close we were to ending up in the water forced us to change our plans, and we made for a sandy beach.  After a seemingly endless haul, we made it and pulled the canoe on land.  We flopped on the beach, soaked with lake water and sweat.  After our breathing leveled off a little, my partner waded into the water and began swimming.  There’s something about swimming after along paddle that’s so relaxing, it loosens your tightened back muscles and the cool water is comforting.  We still had a little while before the rest of the group would catch up, so I decided to join him, clothes and all.  

I didn’t stay in the shallows for long, I longed to swim underwater.  So I pushed off and swam downwards, far over my head.  I had never experienced the weakness that takes over when you’ve paddled all day, but I did then.  With tons of water separating me from a life-giving breath, I couldn’t pull myself to the surface.  I had just reassured my canoe partner that I could swim like a fish, but now it wasn’t true.  My arms were rubber, drained of their former strength.  My lungs burned for a breath, I didn’t have time to think, much less pray.  Finally, I decided to use gravity, and pulled myself to the lake floor.  Once there, with my last ounce of failing strength, I kicked off hard from the ground and shot up.

I came to the surface and gulped in the air.  Luckily my canoe partner was a ways off, he didn’t hear my sputtering.  The thought flashed through my mind that he wouldn’t have noticed my drowning until it was too late, but I dismissed it and gently propelled myself towards shallower water.  I went back to the shore and sat on the sand, not caring that it would stick all over my wet body and clothes.  It was solid ground and there I could not drown.