In which I make a third attempt on MonkeyBoy's life ...

Today, my first "day off" in what seems like months (March really sucked here at Wit's End), we went for the first paddle of the season with some of our friends from the 'hood. This is an annual tradition that I've missed in past years, so I was thrilled to get the call in time to take part.

We launched from below the Oxford Mills dam just after one o'clock. The day was sunny and cool, the water running relatively high (that is, high enough that it was deemed possible to paddle from Oxford Mills to Kemptville). Four canoes altogether: me and MonkeyBoy in Oscar, Dave and RottenGirl in the all-terrain Scanoe, and two canoes of friends from around the village. The water was running high enough that the current carried us along easily and there were small standing waves and rapid-ish bits to enthrall the kids. We drifted along, paddling lightly, chatting with neighbours on the bank and looking at all the birds. A domestic goose jumped in just past the OM bridge and followed us for a while, honking loudly in annoyance at us. There were still little globules of ice hanging from the branches at the edge of the water, and in one still cove, Kai paddled his canoe onto a last frozen patch, making an astonishing impressive icebreaker noise.

It was really interesting seeing the 'hood from a totally new perspective; other than mucking around at the foot of the dam for mudpuppies and a scramble under the bridge one summer when the water was barely running, I'd not been in the river in OM despite having lived right across the street for many many years.

So, everything was going swimmingly until we went for an unplanned swim. Just a bit upstream from the getting-out point in Kemptville, I got us hung up around a branch in a tricky bit and the current swept the canoe out from under me. MonkeyBoy and I were unceremoniously dumped into the water and IT WAS VERY VERY VERY COLD. Fortunately we were able to climb quickly onto a wee island where we stood shivering while our companions scrambled to reunite us with our boat and gear. I was very glad to opted in favour of Dave's old green polar fleece pants instead of jeans, though I'd been worrying about getting damp rather than dunked.

Did I mention it was COLD?! MonkeyBoy and I agreed afterwards that we've never been so FREAKING COLD in our lives. MonkeyBoy stripped off as much wet stuff as he could and donned a borrowed windbreaker to wear under his lifejacket for the last, mercifully very short, leg of our jaunt. My fingers kept going numb, and I had to remove my boots multiple times to dump out the water pooling into them. Dave rushed us home once we made the landing point, whereupon we stripped off our damp clothes, wrapped ourselves in fleece jammies and huddled under the duvets and a dog on the couch until normal body temperature and sensation was restored.

MB claims that his enthusiasm for canoeing has been "dampened both literally and metaphorically", but given how pumped he and RG were about running the little rapidy bits we encountered, I don't think it'll be long before we're back on the water.