Coming to Grips

The rain was coming down harder now and the wind was picking up even more as he hugged the bank of rocks and narrow sand bar that made the point. As he got closer to where he wanted to round the point, he saw that there were several more boulders just below the surface going out another fifty feet before he could make his turn safely. So he paddled on with the wind and rain pelting against the right side of the canoe. He didn’t like this at all as it took him into the bigger white capped waves at the wrong angle. They were coming almost straight from his right and slapping angrily against the side of the canoe. Just as he was about to round the corner a hard gust of wind and four big waves hit him broadside in succession. Almost instantly they filled and swamped the canoe, and dumped him into the water before he even realized what happened. The shock of the cold water stunned him for a few seconds as he bobbed to the surface, and a couple of waves washed over him. He lost his breath from the sudden chill. Coughing and spitting out a mouthful of water, he gained it back along with his senses and looked for the canoe. It was already thirty feet away, upside down with the bow a couple of feet out of the water at a funny angle. The waterproof bags and the backpack were all floating alongside still tethered to it, just as they were supposed to be. The wind was taking it away fast and he had to swim hard to catch it. When he did, he reached under and grabbed a cross bar, then looked back at the point that only a couple of minutes ago he was trying to get around. It was at least a hundred yards away and he and the canoe were rapidly being blown at an angle out across the middle toward the northwest end of the lake. He turned and looked northwest again and realized the wind would eventually push him and the canoe for more than three and a half miles diagonally to the far shore. Maybe it was closer to four, he wasn’t sure. He turned and looked to the south toward shore. He was a little over fifty yards away and the distance was increasing each second. He realized that he had to make a decision. Swim for the south shore while it was still reasonably easy to reach and take his chances there, or hold on to the canoe and stay with it, and float for hours in the high waves of the cold water and maybe die of hypothermia. He knew that he wouldn’t drown because the PFD was keeping him afloat, but the thought of the cold water slowly sucking his life away scared him. He let go and swam as hard as he could for shore.