Arrived at the river, and were were worried that it was going to be a no go, as the previous weekend the river had been frozen solid.
This morning the river was really slushy aka frazil. You could paddle well on the straightaways, but there would be little sections were it got narrow you basically couldn't maneuver in the slush, and a couple of spots where the river froze over and you had to portage. Also the river flows faster since the banks develop these ice wall and choke it down. A lip forms along the edge of the river, kinda like the side of a pool. It's tall enough a canoe doesn't slip up on the ice well, but the ice is too thin to stand on.
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Anyway, we decide carpe diem and went for it, day started great, tons of action tons of birds.
A group of ducks flush from the river, I hit 2 one went down, the other was wounded. As anyone with any river experience would tell you, you want to go slow, slow gives you time to deal with obstacles.
I got excited, put down my gun and started paddling, to catch up to the wounded bird, and I mean paddling. Michael Phelps of the canoe. We were hauling butt, river came to a choke point, and a tight turn.
The canoe slammed into the side wall of ice, had we been going slower the front would likely have pin balled off, and my buddy in the back with have made one strong back stroke and swung the nose of the boat downstream.
As it was, the nose struck and stuck, the stern of the boat swung wide with the current, hit the opposite side of the river ice wall... and we were pinned.
Had this been earlier in the year in a clear river we might have been able to lean up river and ride it out.
but... it wasn't and the conveyor belt of icy bullsh&t was now hitting the boat broadside.
Everything happened in slow-mo.
Gunnel edged closer and closer to the edge of the water. I looked back and saw that fff&$K look in my buddies eyes, wide as saucers.
We both bailed. Through not so much as a cannon ball into a pool, but as sailors of a racing scow who just caught a rogue puff that's smacked their sail into the drink and are gonna haul her back upright.
Each of use had both hands on the gunnels and kept our arms pits above what was assuredly about to be the worst case of shrinkage I'd ever experienced.
My buddy jumped out on the up stream side and I downstream side of the boat, with out our weight gone the boat pivoted a bit.
Boat was completely swamped, our guns hopefully in the boat beneath the opaque ice waters. We floated for a bit like this until we got to a shallow part where we could touch.
We edged our way to shore and gingerly drained our craft.
Both guns were recovered, though looking a bit cartoon-ish with the instate rime that formed on them. To be honest I felt like I had just been hit by Mr. Freeze. Everything that had gotten wet essentially flash froze when we got out. Our legs, arms, chests, back were ridged with ice.
We had a bit of a how the f- did we survive that moment, my buddy smoked a cigarette.
We looked in horror at the icy overhang that we could have been swept under if we had gone in 40 yards further down the river.
Wasn't really much we could do after that, guns were toast, and we had about an hour float left so we got back in and kept'er moving.
Had anyone else been stupid enough to venture out that day they would have had a pretty comical show at the take out.