Wed Aug 26 – 64 – Camp Tarantula – Somewhere in Darkest Canada
Shot the rapids yesterday. It was my day for paddling and I sat in the bow. Stu told us “They’re easy. Paddle like mad.” We were in sixth position. It was exhilarating. We took on water and then there was this grinding noise. Look out for that rock! I called too late and then our canoe was sideways. “Get out!” yelled Stu. Suddenly I was in the water, fighting for a hold on the sharp, slippery rocks. Half dragging the canoe and half being dragged by it we managed to get it ashore but our stuff was all gone. Watched Barb & Paul paddle insanely to the V point then lifted out of sight by the furious water. We tried again, again the yelling and confusion, me trying to obey. I think I’m just terrible at this. Horrible grinding crash as we hit another rock. The crash rang in my whole head and assed right through my body. I staggered dazedly out of the sideways canoe, pushed off the rock with all my strength and we were carried to the shore where the others were waiting. We screamed “Keep left!” to every arriving canoe but none of them could hear us. It was a massive disaster. Judy and Wendy were clinging to a rock in the middle of the stream and their canoe was gone. Pam lost her glasses and had blood in her hair. Marilyn was laughing hysterically. I could tell what Jeff was thinking by his face: “That could have been us!” Finally Stu & Paul figured out how to rescue the sobbing girls. (Paul’s sweatshirt doesn’t say “Defiance” for nothing!) “Form a chain!” Stu screamed and stripped off his outer clothing. Steve & Anne rigged a rope to a tree and threw it to Cindy on the other side. Those of us in the chain began a long hard pull trying to pull the girls over. My arms were almost torn out of their sockets. For a cold wet hour we pulled against the force of the current, saved the girls and all but one canoe. Frank tried to rescue our stuff but most of it was gone. Stu gave the girls jackets but everything was wet so it didn’t help.
No one was griping but no one was looking forward to sleeping on the cold wet frozen ground. Nothing will help but build a fire and climb right in it. I thought about my parents and sisters warm and dry wondering what a fine time I’m having at camp. I was glad Julie couldn’t come – I wouldn’t put a mosquito through this torture. Hard to believe there’s actually a world out here. Promised myself never to be so cold again. We tried to entertain ourselves by talking about what we would do to the person who suggested this trip when we got home. I started up a chorus of The Sloop John B – “This is the worst trip I’ve ever been on.”
We launched out once more against the surging water – me trying to see through the mist and follow Jeff’s command. We hit another rock! Leaped out mechanically and dragged the canoe to safety. I couldn’t believe it – this is the sort of thing you wake up from. Jeff was patting my back. More screams and crashes. I plugged my ears. “Camp Story Trip 5 – sleep on bed of scented pine needles at night, glide gently on sunny mirrored lakes by day” should be “the perfect trip for children you never want to see again.”
The last rapids I felt increasingly hysterical and I was doing well compared to everybody else. I persuaded Marilyn to take bowman’s position – I’m not cut out for seeing rocks rushing at me. “I’ll tip us” she said honestly. I said, “I don’t care” I just want to lie down in the boat, close my eyes and let death overwhelm me. Every now and then I would shout encouragement in the direction of Marilyn’s lumberjack coat.
It seemed the longest stretch we had yet – and then we hit. Water around my face. I jumped into the water - my bare toes showing through the holes in my tennis shoes. “You did better than me” I told a dazed and sobbing Marilyn. Jeff and I hauled the canoe over the rocks, trying to keep it from being swept away.
Barb and Wendy were right behind us and hit the same rock – Barb was thrown out and carried away by the water. Canoe completely overturned. Shavonne saved Barb and we tackled the canoe. You just have to keep jumping while everyone’s shouting contradictory orders; no time to stand and argue. I was in waist high water when I felt a shock of pain. “My leg!” It was twisted and I was afraid I had broken it. Jeff hauled me out bruised but OK. Good that I have rubber bones. (Shavonne’s a nurse.) All I have to show for it is a small purple cut.
Lunch was the only meal we ate that day – we skipped breakfast to get an early start. If they were honest about these trips fewer would go but more would survive. It was midnight when we reached our campsite and we just wanted to lose consciousness. Eleven of our twenty had lost their sleeping bags so we were all doubled up. Once again I slept with redheaded Paul who at least is safe. (And warm.) I’m not sure this is what the Young Men’s Christian Association had in mind but such is life on a wilderness trek. Probably Sacajawea shared Lewis (or Clark’s) sleeping bag from time to time.
Up at six next morning – skipped breakfast again. Just wanted to get somewhere safe with FOOD. My day for riding thank God. I had to borrow Steve’s extra pants – (I peed in mine but I didn’t tell him that. Wet is wet.) I even had a blanket so I am comfortable writing this. Alsace (a city of 28 people) is only an hour away. Yahoo!
Charlaix, Ontario – Sat Sept 5 – 64
Question of the week: What Can You Do When You’re As Sensitive as Sunburn?
How slowly the days pass before school! Each day 24 hrs of experience, a million tiny memories. Someday most likely, I will be an old woman with grandchildren. Probably great-grandchildren – the Aallyns are notes for longevity. Will my face be wrinkled my dresses baggy, my shoes ugly and my mind thick with old-fashioned thoughts? Will I think my life is happy or sad? Will I laugh at the foolishness of youth?
Somehow I think I have the capacity to make myself happy. My future may be great or insignificant. I must say I keep hoping for the former.
I write aboard the Gryphon, docked at Carmine Bay. So far we have not been able to get out of the bay, every time we try we are hit with ten-foot waves, the boat heels over with its portholes in the water and my mother screams to go back. My cousin Jarvis, who seems a good sort, keeps being sick fortunately so far into the sea. Strange considering his mother is a homeopathic doctor who plies him constantly with “nux vomica”. Not working in his case. Glad we came in when we did; otherwise I might have seen my insides float by also.
Unfortunately Genevieve is also aboard; meaning the days are rife with injustices. I want to go swimming but I am on dish detail. Maybe I can swim later. Water balms all wounds.
Soon I will be beyond this, at Plumly School the last word in Preppy Co-Education. Next Wednesday! In the meantime I get to practice shopping and self-control.
Brockton, Ohio – Mon Sept 7 - 64
Diary you are the most recent diary in a long line. Today I took all my diaries out of the linen closet (up high where Mrs. Broadnax never dusts) and put them on the leaf pile! Did away with them. It was with considerable relief that I put away childish things. It seems right to burn diaries in the autumn when there are so many other burnings.
When people on the street sniff the burning pile and say, “What a good smell” I can say “That’s Jeff and Harvey and that English kid who pretended he was the Lost Beatle and all those other small-town idiots I can’t wait to leave behind.”
Tra la for autumn madness, new notebooks and new adventures!
Alysse Aallyn 
Leave a comment