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Oh, let it rain down on me. PHOTO: JONATHAN PRATT


[ From the editor ]


Let it Rain “P


Bone-soaking amounts of precipitation


addle harder!” I shouted to the stern. “I have to get this photo first,” Jon in-


sisted. Only moments before, we witnessed a funnel cloud touch down a few kilometres to the east. Not really sure what to do in such an unexpected situation, we raced with Olympic speed toward shore, hoping to reach safety before the storm hammered down on us. Memories of that afternoon are so vivid:


the ominous sight of threatening dark clouds, the clammy sensation of a soaked paddling jacket, the overhead rumble of gut-wrench- ing thunder and the terrifying realization of being completely unprepared for a water- spout or tornado. I often think back to this photo of me


scurrying to pull our heavily loaded 19-foot Wenonah up onto the rocky shore as the tor- rential rain came pummeling down. It was week three of a month-long canoe trip on Lake Superior where it rained every day, and poured most.


8 SUMMER/FALL 2010


and generally stormy weather quickly put a damper on our daily routine: Wake up to the pitter-patter of rain droplets splashing onto the tent fly; pull on cold, sticky neoprene suits; stuff a wet, sandy tent into our canoe pack; paddle through daylong downpours; set up a slimy, sandy tent; peel off drenched neoprene booties; fall asleep to the rumbles of another approaching storm. Repeat. One destructive storm that we spent hud-


dled in our tent was so powerful, we later heard that it washed out a highway near Tunder Bay. But, really, what were we to expect? It was


June and this was Superior. Tis was no te- quila-downing, sunny, all-inclusive resort va- cation. Tis was real, raw experience. I’m sure many of you can relate. It seems


that canoe trips and rain go together much like childhood play and bee stings, bike rides and scraped knees, work and deadlines. It’s something we can’t escape. According to laws set out by Murphy, no


canoe trip is complete without at least one day of miserable weather. Yet despite my bleak portrait of the trip, I fondly remember it as one of the best times of


my life. Why? According to psychologist and mountaineer, George Loewenstein, “Te worst experiences often make the best memories.” If not exactly rosy, memories of difficult


experiences are undeniably more powerful than those of the mundane everyday. Neu- roscientists who study how memories are formed say that adverse events are more li- able to become burned into your long-term memory. Which, in turn, helps us to gain in- sights from our experiences. Tat month on the lake, I learned that


Gore-Tex is my friend, an expensive tent is worth the money, hot chocolate is an emo- tional lifesaver and, above all, a good trip mate and careful planning are ingredients to surviving any misadventure. I also learned that I could look back on 25 straight days of rain and smile. As the philosopher Aesop would say: ad-


versity builds character. All of this might help to explain why we


tell more campfires stories about tough ca- noe trips than easy ones, and why—despite mosquitoes, blackflies, bears, lightning, rain- storms, brutal portages, leeches and maybe even a waterspout—we keep on tripping. —Stephanie Park


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