A Day On the Water

By Edward Miller

We were out on Bonac Creek between Woodtick and Sage Islands. My cousin and I had the day off from school because we were both recovering from the mumps and my sixth grade teacher had given us all the homework we could stand. It was 3:30 on Friday afternoon, when my mother and aunt had decided we were well enough to accompany them in the 16 foot sharpie my father had built to go to our clamming spot. In that one afternoon, I learned a valuable lesson. Beware of strong tides and old canoes, they could change the course of your lives forever and you may not live to notice how fortunate we all are having life, family and mothers.

My mother had warned us not to get wet because our fevers could return but while they weren't looking, we climbed out of the boat into waist high waters, which were quite cold for the 29th of May. I worked my way over to woodtick Island, cousin Leon followed. Woodtick was a small island, one hundred yards in circumfrence, it was filled with trees and beach grass, and ticks, hence the name of the island. I could hear my Aunt calling to us in the distance telling us to "get back in the boat" but we pretended not to hear her.

The salt water rushed in between Sage and Woodtick through a small channel cut in from the bay and the current was very strong. If we stood in one place too long it would knock us down. When we finally made it to Woodtick Island, Leon and I came upon a canoe that had gotten away from its owner some time in the past week or so. We could tell from the seaweed that had stuck to the sides of the canoe. We dragged the canoe towards the water, moving logs, sandpiles and rocks out of the way, we finally made it to the water. I could still hear our mothers yelling at us to get back in the boat, but we kept going. We were so tired by the time we reached the water, canoe in tow, that we fell into the canoe exhausted. While we were resting in the bottom of the little sliver of wood, we hadn't noticed we were adrift. I could feel something cold and wet on my back. I sat up and looked down. There was a crack as wide as the canoe and halfway up one side. Water was rushing in. We started bailing with our hands. The harder we bailed, the faster the water rushed in. I looked up and could see the look of panic in my mother's eyes as we were swept farther and farther towards the channel leading to the bay.

I jumped overboard, grabbed the canoe and started kicking my feet as hard as they would go. Leon joined me. We were going to save that old canoe no matter what it took. I was getting tired, I tried to reach bottom with my feet but it just wasn't there. We were literally in over our heads. Here came my aunt with the powerboat and we knew we were in big trouble, but we weren't giving up the canoe. We started kicking, trying to get the boat to shore, but the current was really strong. We climbed back into the canoe and as we sat down it literally tore in half. Both ends were sticking up in the air. I climbed to the tip and discovered that I could make it float by balancing the torn end up out of the water then the wind started to blow. It blew us right back to Woodtick where we had started from.

I reached land first and shortly behind me was my aunt, and Leon bounced ashore like a whale. My aunt started to yell and we started to run the other way, but she was just too fast. She grabbed me by the waist of my shorts and dragged me over so she could get hold of Leon, all the while lecturing us on why we should have stayed in the boat. We insisted we had everything thing under control the whole time we were drifting into the bay. But we didn't and we knew it. The canoe was lost. My bottom was quite sore from the lashing that I got from my father when we returned home and mom told him about the days events. My fever did return and I had another three glorious days out of school. I think I did more homework in those three days then I had done in my entire school career.

Even though those days of summer fun and mischief have long since passed, I still have fond memories of that old canoe. It was the first time I had an adventure into the unknown and although I have been to Bonac Creek many times since then, nothing has compared to the thrill of fighting that current to save that old broken canoe. There are times when I have thought about buying a canoe but the time to use it just isn't there any longer. My life has been filled with the responsibilities of raising a family and providing for a better future for my them. It's funny how all those things that were so important to you seem to vanish. Eventually new ones take their place and become more important in life. Someday I will return to the waters in Bonac Creek, even if it is just to go claming and remember fondly of the time my cousin and I once shared in that broken canoe. I haven't heard from Leon in almost 15 years. We live eight hundred miles apart now. I suspect he has grown to his own family as I have mine. It's funny how time slips away.