Unsurprisingly, it was below 50 degrees and raining steadily when we woke up. We fought off the urge to sleep in again since we knew there was diner food and resupply to be had in Walton.
Despite the short distance into town, the paddling conditions meant we were pretty stoked to stash the boat at the edge of a church parking lot and hike into town for McDonald’s breakfast.
Four egg and bacon breakfast sandwiches and several large cups of VERY hot black coffee later, we got our hands on a newspaper and the corresponding weather report: not just rain, but highs in the 30’s with a solid chance of SNOW for the next THREE DAYS. (The next time Steve taunts the weather gods, I will straight up murder him and offer his organs up as an apologetic sacrifice.)
We sat in the fry-oil-scented warmth crippled with deranged, desperate laughter at the mid-May weather report until our limbs were fully thawed. The post-church-service crowd joined us in the restaurant. It was oddly satisfying to sit in a room full of suited adults and small children in dress clothes, decked out in rain gear with our paddles tucked under the booth, and clearly be having the best day out of anyone there. “Hey. Hey. Steve. What’s the weather for tomorrow?” “SNOW!” Helpless laughter. “Hey! What about the weather for the day after that?” “…SNOW!!!” “Hey, Steve, I’ve got a GREAT idea… let’s go CANOEING!”
After regaining our senses (and the feeling in our toes) traipsed through the town collecting some necessary goods. Stops were made at the grocery store, Dollar General (extra layers and a new TracFone- I’m now one step higher on the dirtbag scale), and of course the local liquor outlet because nobody dumb enough to go canoeing in the snow is dumb enough to spend the entire time fully sober.
After a few hours’ hard paddling through sleet and steady winds, we finally located a spot to pull over on the side of the Cannondale Reservoir. I had thought I had maintained my body temperature pretty well the entire time we were in the boat, but the moment I stepped out and tried to unbuckle my portage pack Steve noticed that my hands had stopped working and it was his turn to go into “OMG my paddling buddy is getting hypothermic” mode. I remember holding halves of a ratchet strap in each hand and staring at it thinking “I have done this every day for two weeks and I have absolutely no idea how this works right now”, then being bustled through basic tasks of “carry the portage packs up this hill” and “get in the tent and put on these dry things right fucking now”. Once I was stuffed in my sleeping bag eating peanut M&M’s I joked that Steve had used the situation to his advantage by making me drag the heavy things around under the guise of re-warming, but in all honesty I was glad he was there and noticed immediately I wasn’t okay.
We were in the tent by 5:30pm and had no real plans to leave for at least 14 hours, since the next day’s high peaked at 11am and 40 degrees.