Kayaking kicks ass. This last weekend sent us just outside the rustic village of Hawkesbury. By us I mean, The Minister of the Interior, The Minister of Fisheries, Number 65, and Barbie (since I can’t come up with an appropriate name for him). Our mission, whitewater kayaking. Unfortunately I don’t remember the name of the lake except that the whitewater is referred to as “The Seven Sisters” and that it is located at the mouth of the Riviere Rouge. I had other things on my mind.

I am a man with small, mundane, human fears. I fear death. I fear life. I fear heights, rapid speeds, and needles. However in water I fear nothing. The last great water sport I embarked upon was scuba diving, which took me to some of the coolest coral reefs off the Islands of Fiji, underground rivers in Mexico. I can consistently beat the two minute mark when holding my breath underwater, and I’m a damn good water-wrestler. But I digress.

It occurred to me as I hauled my kayak up to a relatively tame but still scary looking section of the river, “holy shit this is nuts!” But I didn’t heisted to throw myself down the river. I love water with all the rocks, water up my nose, and red eyes.

This was my first time kayaking, and I was excepting something along the lines of an elaborate waterslide with more thrills and danger. I was correct to some extent. We went with a company called H2O Adventures. The Minister of Fisheries has dealt with these people before and greatly enjoyed it. Our quest took us to a small island on the lake. We arrived late on Friday night, and took a short raft ride to the island. Friday night was relatively quiet despite the large quantity of alcohol imbibed. I spun fire, met the instructors, hung out. Our group was rather disappointed by the lack of femininity on the premesis. Among 10 guys we had something like… one female who was clearly significantly older than any of us. So we parked our things in our abode, which by general concensus was dubbed “The Sausage Hut,” and went to sleep.

Morning took us early around eightish. In the middle of breakfast more people arrived upping the female count to five females, hardly an ideal situation but more fun nonetheless. There is nothing like raging testosterone competing for attention.

We were in the water by tenish, learning basic moves. Now when you get into a kayak you have a skirt around your waist, which keeps water out of your boat. However if you need to exit the boat quickly, i.e. if you have been flipped over, you need to detach the skirt from the kayak by pulling a strap and exiting the boat. Interior Minister, and Number 65, learned this particular trial by fire, or water if you will. We also learned how to rescue an overturned person by having them use your boat for leverage.

The first day consisted of basic paddling techniques, quick recoveries before flipping over, and safety. Interior and I were jousting and playing bumper boats. It was great fun. We also got to ride down a section of whitewater with our life jackets. Alas Number 65 got ill, probably a combination of seasickness and water up his nose. I had purchased a pair of nose plugs, but they were taken by the lake, probably at the end of the day when the Minister of Interior and I were doing “Terry Tate” tackles to each other in the water. Lunch was served sometime in the middle of the day, and the evening found us huddled around a campfire telling jokes, making fun of each other, listening to Fisheries’ stories, and some fire dancing by me. The story he told was about a man gone fish, once again validating his appointment. It was much fun despite the day’s physical antics. We went to bed tired and drained.

The following day consisted of a quick review before we headed out to the whitewater for some action. We learned how to surf waves on the whitewater and navigate currents on the river. Lunch was had and some of us decided that we wanted to learn “Eskimo Rolling” which is the technique kayakers use to flip an overturned kayak up by itself. We had heard about this difficult move from Fisheries and Barbie since they were the veterans of our group. Apparently beginners seldom learn it. After getting an explanation and trying a few drills Interior and I got bored and joined Fisheries and Barbie for some wave surfing. It’s harder than the veterans make it look, but I’ll get better with practice. By then Number 65 had backed out again due to physical discomfort despite his newly acquired nose plugs. On the way down I borrowed them and attempted an Eskimo roll myself without assistance. It took me a few tries and apparently the instructors were using my attempts as demonstrations of “what not to do” when suddenly I succeeded. I was able to repeat the feat multiple times. Interior later confided to me that the instructors were flabbergasted by my improper technique and success despite this. I’ll get better with practice. Interior succeeded one shortly afterwards.

The last thing we did was go down the whitewater in our kayaks. This was by far the most thrilling part of the weekend. Water pulled and pushed. Gravity propelled me through currents, waves, and rocks. Halfway through the experience I lost my balance and tipped over. I attempted and failed two Eskimo rolls before wet exiting. I collided into just about every rock on the way down, but it was fun anyways.

The goodbyes weren’t tearful, but there was a general agreement to try and book the same weekend for next year. These were made more on the spur of the exhilaration and will probably die down quickly. Personally I want go to back right now. There were some e-mails taken and some telephone numbers as well. I will probably never see these people again, and their existence in this chapter of my life will fade with time. I say this with no hint of sarcasm or regret, just experience talking.

Anywho it was fun, and I highly recommend it to anyone who is mildly interested.