Well, buckle up, because this story is a doozy. One fateful day, I had the brilliant idea to conquer the Portage Pass route solo. I'm a big strong kayak guide/instructor WCGW? I Yanked my kayak from the VCKC storage and checked the tide charts. Seemed perfect; the tide would be on the upswing just as I made my full loop around. What I failed to account for was that we were still in the falling tide phase, smack dab in the middle of a larger mixed semidiurnal tide. This, my friends, is where the plot thickens like mud.
With visions of adventure dancing in my head, I set off, but I couldn't help noticing I was paddling against the current as I passed under the Craigflower. Now, being the unstoppable beast I am, I shrugged it off and kept going, full steam ahead my kayak nearly on plane, into the upper gorge. a little current isn't going to deter me. <-(idiot)
As I made my way towards that funny-looking building at the end of the bay, it dawned on me that the water seemed shallower than usual. Alarmingly so. Still about 200m from the shore, I started hitting a metaphorical brick wall - I could paddle no more but managed another 100m of mud pushing and bum scooting hoping to juuust make it. Nope!. Reflecting on my predicament I realized that in a breathtakingly brief span of 15 minutes, I lost a full meter of water depth, transforming the bay into a desolate mud flat.
So there I was, the lone knight, smack in the middle of a drained battlefield, watching the last remnants of water retreat, and I thought, "Well, this is a fine mess you've got yourself into!" My choices? Wade through 100m of mud or wait a few hours for nature to take pity on me.
Opting for immediate action as I tend to do, I chose the first option. Let me tell you, that mud was up to my hips, and each step felt like trying to wrestle a grizzly bear. That 100m slog was more grueling than any marathon I've ever run. The best method I found? Roll body, anchor, drag kayak with rescue line. Rinse, actually no, don't rinse, repeat. After about 15 repetitions of this mud ballet, I emerged, victorious but worn, onto Midwood beach.
From there, it was just a "short" 1.5km walk from Midwood beach, up the road and back down the E&N, to Portage park, looking less like a triumphant adventurer and more like Swamp Thing's less successful cousin. Thank the stars for the kayak wheels I brought. I had almost opted to just leave them behind and carry my kayak across the short gap on my head as I have done once before when I had forgotten them. Exhausted, I collapsed into the water at Thetis Cove for a well-deserved rinse.
So, off I paddled, past the watchful eye of the lighthouse, but let me tell you, at that moment, I had had just about enough fun for one day. As thrilling as it sounded, tackling Tillicum Narrows, exhausted and on a full-blown tidal exchange, even if it was supposedly in my favor, seemed about as appealing as arm wrestling with the Kraken itself.
Biting the bullet, I swallowed my pride and rang up a buddy with a kayak rack."Oi, how about a daring rescue mission at the lagoon?" I asked, trying to make my predicament sound less muddy than I was.
So there I was, beached on the lagoon and about a half-hour and one more solid dunk in the ocean later when he rolls up to collect me. But let me tell ya, I still reeked like the underside of a wharf at low tide mixed with a healthy serving of prime, sulphury mud. Pretty alluring, eh?
And poor old him, well, he couldn't let it go. To this day, I can still hear him bellyaching about how I managed to turn his car into the unofficial aroma mascot for a back-alley fishmonger.
The chap had to drive around with his windows down for a good couple of days, trying to air out the pungent perfume I'd gifted him, for no good deed goes unpunished..
And that, my dear friends, is the legendary tale of how I got a crash course, quite literally, in the unforgiving, unpredictable, and thoroughly mud-splattered nature of semidiurnal tides. The lesson here is, It's not just the voyage, but also how much mud you're willing to wade through, that really builds character. So grab a paddle, keep a weather eye on the horizon, and for Neptune's sake, respect the tides!