Sarah Nigbor

Our 4-H club is hosting an outing soon in which club members can kayak, canoe and build cardboard boats for a race at a local lake. The kids actually build the cardboard boats big enough to fit one or two people. Last year, Carolina and her friend built one (with the help of her friend’s dad and about a million rolls of duct tape) that was remarkably waterproof. It made it all the way across the Ellsworth pool and back. It was indestructible.

Whether or not their boat will win this year remains a question, but one thing I know won’t happen is my husband won’t step foot near a canoe.

I grew up canoeing on Nugget Lake with my mom and best friend Meghan. We would paddle while my mom would sit in the middle and fish. Meghan insisted on steering and sometimes, we’d careen wildly across the lake while Mom hung on for dear life. At least once a trip, Mom would fall of her seat and bonk her head. To be fair, she has questionable balance, but our steering didn’t help. Those things should come with seat belts. Or better paddlers (wink wink). Anyway, we always had fun. And we did improve our canoeing skills with age.

When my husband and I started dating, I wanted to show him my favorite childhood lake. We hiked the trails surrounding Nugget Lake and Blue Rock on a cool May day. I soon convinced him we should take a canoe for a paddle around the lake. I assured him I knew what I was doing. I failed to tell him any of the stories that involved dunkings, bonked heads or shenanigans.

He stepped into the canoe first while I held it steady from shore and settled himself. So far so good. He decided he would steer and I didn’t mind. I was just excited to get out on the lake again.

I have stepped into a canoe countless times and never tipped it. But of course, the first and only time I took Shane, the unthinkable happened. As I attempted to step into the canoe, the whole thing seesawed wildly and dumped Shane right into Nugget Lake, wallet, car keys and all. I honestly have no idea how it happened, it was so quick. Next thing I knew, Shane was sitting on the mucky bottom with water streaming down his head, staring at me in shock. I was mortified. Keep in mind, we hadn’t been dating long. I was sure this was the last date. I didn’t even notice my soaked jeans, though I managed to save myself from a complete dunking.

Oh great, I thought. What a way to impress him. As he pulled himself out of the lake I apologized profusely and struggled not to laugh. His clothes were stuck to his body and he wrung water out of his pants. The temperature wasn’t overly warm, so soon he was shivering. He politely asked if we could go back to his house for a change of clothes and I practically ran to the car. Once home, I helped him spread the contents of his wallet out on the counter to dry and continued to apologize as he pulled seaweed out of his pant leg. 

While the dunking wasn’t enough to chase him off (we’ve been married six years, together for eight), he refuses to try canoeing with me again. He said once was enough. I think he should give it one more shot, as long as I get in first. Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?