OUTDOOR EDUCATION
The glinting canoes lean and bob
at the river’s edge, tugging at their taut yellow ropes. My algebra teacher, Mr. Davis, and his student partner untie
their canoe and push the hull into the lilting current of the North Saskatchewan River. Eight packed canoes follow the first
into the freedom of the broad watery highway.
In the rising sun, bright conversations
about anticipated adventures spring up from every direction. Each voice carries effortlessly from one canoe to the next; even
a whisper is crisply audible above the trickling water. Behind me, I hear the rustle of a bag and a slow munching, accompanied
by a faint salty aroma. Ahead of me, the flaming red lifejackets in aluminum canoes remind me of strawberry candies in foil
wrappers. My stomach rumbles quietly. A queue of tanned arms dip honey-glazed paddles into the cool and murky water below,
propelling each craft farther along with every j-stroke.
Each canoe advances to its own
team’s rhythm, yet the waves and churning of the river choreograph the journey. The canvas of the sky is a bright peacock
blue, speckled with diminutive fluffs of clouds. The frenzied songs and trills of warblers, sparrows, and oriels surrender
to the heat of the day. Only one Canada goose persists with a lonely honk. Its
voice withers into memory as I paddle onward into new territory downstream.
Mr. Davis’ canoe makes its
way to a large glistening sandbar near an umbrella of white and black birch on the south shore. Like ducklings following their mother, every canoe swiftly joins the first. Heaving the loaded canoes far
into the soft sand, students and teachers stand tall, stretching out stiff muscles before sitting down to a picnic lunch.
My smoked turkey and tangy mustard on whole wheat is as satisfying as any home-cooked meal could be. Carrot sticks and cucumber
slices cool my mouth and quench my thirst. I peel a ripe, sweet orange, sharing the juicy wedges with a friend. The buzz of
a wasp catches me off-guard. Jumping up, I throw the last piece of my orange on the sand and dart to the other end of the
sandbar. My face heats up as laughter ripples in my wake.
After lunch, Mr. Davis primes us
for a series of complicated rapids on the next leg. Pulling hard at the braided tie-down ropes, I secure my tent and backpack
to the canoe and place a baling pail within easy reach of the stern and bow. My heart is pounding but I am ready to conquer
this challenge. Grunting, my partner and I pull at the water with strong flexed arms; every stroke draws us closer to the
angry swirls of water on rock ahead. Mr. Davis’s canoe swings out into the heaves, skirting a massive eddy. I breathe
deeply and focus on the path. My turn has arrived.
The End
