No Tempest in a Teapot

My story begins with my family setting up our tent in a camp ground on Mabel Lake which is situated in the heart of Okanagan country in the interior of British Columbia.  Nestling between mountains, the lake is thirty five kilometers in length but rather narrow and subject to rapid changes in its weather pattern.  Strong gusts of wind sweeping through the mountain passes result in sudden squalls on the lake that make boating unsafe.  Boaters are clearly warned of the danger by warning signs posted around the camp.

Upon our arrival, we had taken a look at the dock and the campsite and I had talked to a man who was showing off his fresh catch of rainbow trout.  Seeing those beauties motivated me into setting up the tent quickly in anticipation of going after some myself.

About an hour later, as I launched our small row boat by the dock, I surveyed the lake.  The water was beautifully calm and the sky clear and bright with nary a cloud in sight.  My son was as eager as me to try his luck while his mother and sister wanted to explore the campsite.  The two of us put on life jackets, grabbed our fishing gear and headed out onto the lake.

We began trolling several hundred yards off shore moving slowly up and down the lake for about a kilometer.  I did not want to venture too far from camp as it was late afternoon and I was not eager to get caught in the dark.

We were on the lake for about twenty minutes when I noticed that a strong breeze was rising causing the water to become choppy.  Amazingly quick, sizable waves formed and were bouncing the boat around like a cork and I realised that we were in trouble.  We hauled in our gear and I had my son sit down on the floor of the boat.  Rowing became difficult as the waves pounded on us and my real fear was that they would capsize the boat.

I noticed my wife and daughter running along the edge of the lake shouting at us to come in.  Rowing was now useless so I surrendered the boat to the waves and hoped for the best.  We were carried down the lake to where there was a sandbar jutting out into the water and the waves pushed the boat onto it.  I got out of the boat and pulled it further onto the sand bar and the  two of us waded to shore where my wife and daughter were waiting.

We breathed a sigh of relief at our escape and offered a prayer of thanks.  That storm was no mere tempest in a teapot but a sobering reminder of the forces of nature.  What amazed me was that the sky was still clear and in a few minutes the squall was over and the lake as calm and beautiful as when we arrived. 

In no mood to go back on the water, we left the boat where it was and walked back to the camp.  There was no  fish that night but there was a hot supper and the family sitting safely around a cosy campfire.  The next day I went and rowed the boat back to the dock.