Karen Robinet
Let me preface this tale of my own stupidity by telling you that I have a lifelong fascination with water.
I don’t know if it’s a combination of being both a Pisces and English, but large bodies of water have an almost magnetic pull over me.
While the breezy salt of a seaside destination is my absolute favourite fix, I have learned to settle for the Great Lakes, and more recently, Georgian Bay.
This obsession with the waves fuels almost any holiday I take, as well as many a day trip.
This year with the limited options available, I’ve spent more time out at Erieau than ever before, including a number of visits with my almost four-year-old great nephew Kamron, who also enjoys visiting ‘the lake.’
As I write this, we are hunkered down, waiting for what’s expected to be the first winter storm of the season, which has reminded me of the incredibly stupid thing I did a few weeks ago.
It was Sunday, Nov. 15, the day of that howling windstorm. I was busily working away on a furniture refinishing project, dressed in my ‘paint clothes,’ which consist of a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
As I listened to the wind battering the house, I started wondering what was going on out at the lake. I was very tempted to head out there, but reminded myself that it was better to stay home on such a blustery day.
But a little while later I found myself ‘between coats’ and figured I had just enough time to pop out to Erieau to see what was what before I could apply a second coat of paint.
Since it wasn’t freezing cold and I didn’t plan to be out for long, I didn’t bother changing, but I grabbed a jacket, my phone/camera and started heading up Queen Street.
By now, there were enough tree branches on the road to make me wonder if it was possibly a bad idea to be out. But, I ignored that thought.
By the time I got to Erieau, there were a bunch of other ‘rubberneckers’ out there, most of whom were driving down to the pier.
Not wanting to get caught up in all that traffic, I decided to park at our usual stop, near the playground equipment where as the sole visitor I had my pick of spots.
My plan was to walk down to the lighthouse to get what I knew would be some fantastic shots of waves crashing over it.
Like the complete fool that I am, I had parked parallel to the lake, with the driver’s door on the lake side. Despite the fact that I had to wrestle to get the car door open, it didn’t occur to me to turn it around so the door would be facing the non-windy road side.
As I began my approach to the lighthouse, I marvelled at what an easy walk it was, what with the winds practically throwing me that way.
But, as I kept walking, I was also thinking that at some point I’d have to turn around and start walking against it.
Just as I was having that thought, the winds really picked up and now the backs of my legs were being pummelled by flying sand.
I was now starting to think this had not been a great life choice, but since I was there, I was determined to get a few shots of the water as I knew there was no way I was going to make it down to the lighthouse.
At that point, the sand on my legs was really starting to hurt so it was definitely time to turn around, which is when the real troubles began!
I have no idea of knowing what the actual wind speeds were at that point, but let me tell you, I had never previously experienced them.
Now it was the front of my legs that were being attacked by the sandstorm, and because it was so bad, I couldn’t look up to see where I was going. So, with my hood pulled up and over half my face, which was pointed toward the ground, I started the agonizingly slow march back to the car.
It was like walking whilst pushing a huge, invisible boulder. It was like that nightmare where you keep walking/running but you just can’t get there!
I could see the car, but despite my best efforts, I began to wonder if I was going to be able to get back to it. By now, I was panting with the exertion, not to mention the excruciating agony of the sand pelting my poor legs. In a moment of sheer panic combined with extreme embarrassment I had visions of having to be ‘rescued’ from the beach.
That visual gave me renewed determination, and after a rest break, I continued the perilous trek to the car, and finally made it.
As I stood there, a broken shell of my former self, I then realized the sheer folly of my choice of parking spots.
Did I even have the strength to open it? In my weakened state – both physically and apparently mentally – it didn’t occur to me that I could have gone in through the passenger door and just climbed over the ‘whatsit’ in the centre.
So, I gathered all my strength and managed to pull the door open, which is when I was confronted with the next challenge: could I get inside holding the door open with only one arm before it slammed shut and decapitated one if not both of my legs?
Fortunately, the answer to that was yes, but it wasn’t easy.
As I sat in the car, shaking with exertion, gasping for breath and swimming in my own sweat, I decided to take a look at my legs, which I’d been avoiding thus far. To my great surprise, they weren’t covered in rivulets of blood, it just looked like I had a mild sunburn or, more to the point, windburn. But let me tell you, those legs have never had a closer shave!
Originally when this happened, I decided I wasn’t going to write a column about it – I mean, why showcase my own stupidity, but then I thought it might serve as a cautionary tale, plus, with the passage of time, it is mildly amusing.
So, was it a big mistake to go out there that day? Yes it was.
Would I do it again? Well, I’d like to say no…
Stay well, and stay smarter than me my friends!
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December 01, 2020 at 07:35PM
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