Departing Winnipeg we were accompanied by swift paddling friends from the local marathon canoe racing community. The paddle was excellent, and our spirits were lifted as our flotilla of canoes grew from three to seven. We always appreciate having some company.
The day after leaving Winnipeg we woke to overcast skies and a persistent wind. We recognized the wind but thought it to be minor and coming from a favourable direction. Paddling through the Netley Marsh we were able paddle close to the reed grass and limit the effect of the side waves. Emerging from the safety of the Red River Delta in the Netley marsh we were immediately buffeted with swells rising to as high as ten feet with irregular caps. What had seemed to be a west wind was indeed a northwest wind and much stronger than it had previously seemed. We struggled east for two hours as we sought to get past the Netley Marsh to the east shore of Lake Winnipeg. With our hearts racing and our knuckles white we tried to stay calm and keep an eye on the other boats. With every crest and trough the boats came in and out of view. Twice I was jarred sideways as a wall of water crashed into my side hitting as high as my face. I gasped for air as I nervously watched a foot and half wall of water charge sideways across the deck of the boat. I appreciated our Northwater spray decks and the stability of our Clipper Whitewater Two’s more than ever in that moment. That may have been one of the longest 14 km of my life. The point marking Patricia Beach approached at an agonisingly slow pace. We finally rounded the point and the thin ribbon of beach came into view. We surfed down the tail waves towards shore. Luckily, on such a miserable day few people were using the beach and we could head for the safest landing possible – right on the beach itself. We had only one spectator who looked on as we staggered to shore. Through the break water we took one wave, then a second wave, and finally a third. I was no longer paddling. I was bracing feverishly and trying to keep our waterladen boat upright as the waves continued to push us to shore. Dry Land! We had made it. I jumped up and as Nathalie and I pulled the boat on to shore we reeled as we tried to guide the other two boats to shore. First was Shane and Abby who raced in surfing the waves at speeds of more than 13 km/hr. Abby had one foot out the side of the boat, ready to jump at the earliest opportunity. I sprinted through the waves to collect few things (i.e. sour candies) that the waves had snatched from Shane and Abby’s deck. Our second boat was in. We focused our attention on the third and final boat. Steph and Whitney had taken on some water and were working hard to control their boat through the waves. As they hit the second wave of the breakwater, the boat spun and leaned to the left, and both Whitney and Stephanie dove from the boat. The four of us who had already been on shore grabbed hold of the boat and guided it into shore. On the beach we all looked at each other with drawn faces. Faces which signalled bodies with little energy left to exert. Faces that said only one thing: ``We had made it.`` Our two hours on Lake Winnipeg were quite enough and we were eager to leave Manitoba`s lakes by portaging to St. George on the Winnipeg River. <Ross>
The day after leaving Winnipeg we woke to overcast skies and a persistent wind. We recognized the wind but thought it to be minor and coming from a favourable direction. Paddling through the Netley Marsh we were able paddle close to the reed grass and limit the effect of the side waves. Emerging from the safety of the Red River Delta in the Netley marsh we were immediately buffeted with swells rising to as high as ten feet with irregular caps. What had seemed to be a west wind was indeed a northwest wind and much stronger than it had previously seemed. We struggled east for two hours as we sought to get past the Netley Marsh to the east shore of Lake Winnipeg. With our hearts racing and our knuckles white we tried to stay calm and keep an eye on the other boats. With every crest and trough the boats came in and out of view. Twice I was jarred sideways as a wall of water crashed into my side hitting as high as my face. I gasped for air as I nervously watched a foot and half wall of water charge sideways across the deck of the boat. I appreciated our Northwater spray decks and the stability of our Clipper Whitewater Two’s more than ever in that moment. That may have been one of the longest 14 km of my life. The point marking Patricia Beach approached at an agonisingly slow pace. We finally rounded the point and the thin ribbon of beach came into view. We surfed down the tail waves towards shore. Luckily, on such a miserable day few people were using the beach and we could head for the safest landing possible – right on the beach itself. We had only one spectator who looked on as we staggered to shore. Through the break water we took one wave, then a second wave, and finally a third. I was no longer paddling. I was bracing feverishly and trying to keep our waterladen boat upright as the waves continued to push us to shore. Dry Land! We had made it. I jumped up and as Nathalie and I pulled the boat on to shore we reeled as we tried to guide the other two boats to shore. First was Shane and Abby who raced in surfing the waves at speeds of more than 13 km/hr. Abby had one foot out the side of the boat, ready to jump at the earliest opportunity. I sprinted through the waves to collect few things (i.e. sour candies) that the waves had snatched from Shane and Abby’s deck. Our second boat was in. We focused our attention on the third and final boat. Steph and Whitney had taken on some water and were working hard to control their boat through the waves. As they hit the second wave of the breakwater, the boat spun and leaned to the left, and both Whitney and Stephanie dove from the boat. The four of us who had already been on shore grabbed hold of the boat and guided it into shore. On the beach we all looked at each other with drawn faces. Faces which signalled bodies with little energy left to exert. Faces that said only one thing: ``We had made it.`` Our two hours on Lake Winnipeg were quite enough and we were eager to leave Manitoba`s lakes by portaging to St. George on the Winnipeg River. <Ross>
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