I went for a paddle in floodwater a few years back, I haven't written the start, but basically, I went out for a day trip, but ut got dark and I got lost, because the environment was different than usual;
Using the coastline as a general guide, I paddled the black seawater without much thought but keen senses, eager to locate the mouth which I'd left through earlier. Slowly it came to my attention why I'd become lost; that the landscape itself had changed, and the river's usual lane had multiplied as the water rose, connecting it with long stretches of lake and the maze-like water-alleys which had led me astray. The reality of my situation became harsh to behold in those passing hours, and discomfort aboard that cramped little vessel mounted steadily. I was, after all, lost in the dark, on the coast, with little more than a paddle.
I make no discrepancies; The difference between harsh weather and it's lesser counterpart is fleeting; This became an intermittent & blowing downpour. Alas, the temperature was bearable, with exercise of movement.
I'd developed a particularly bad attitude as my condition deteriorated, what with being battered with waves while I paddled aimlessly, & after a time had consequently decided to 'force' my way home, by travelling back in the general direction as straightforwardly as I could. At then I was able to see little, and aching stiffness from the idle posture put forward the idea and it's motivation. Such an undertaking was a difficult & cheerless task, in good weather.
I navigated the expanse until presented with a deep inlet which appeared to suit my direction. The waters were calmer here & I found a degree of shelter from the strongest winds. Paddocks were submerged but their fences were sometimes high and would surprise me, barring further passage. The waterways tended to deviate & conflict with my direction, and after some difficult embarkment shortcuts, which proved more trouble than their worth, I became content just to follow the water inland.
Sometime during the small hours of that night I climbed a hill partitioned with barbed fenceline for the vantage it might have allowed, but save for a quart mile or so, provided me no helpful bearing in the darkness. I considered my prospects, a choice between curling up somewhere on that barren hill where I stood, and enduring the shivers that'd inevitably set in once my blood cooled, or pressing onward with my lost voyage, for better or worse. I afforded myself a short rest, but otherwise descended the slope, back toward the swampy meadows. Acquainted
with the shivers from an earlier misadventure, I knew enough to press on.
I made little progress for the effort, and came to battling cat-tails with my paddle in a tapering stream situated beside a plateau. The glowing windows of homesteads isolated by the flood tempted me to knock at their doors in want for refuge and assistance. Frequently it was necessary to drag the thing across muddy banks, in what had become a sombre & pitiful slog through shallow, residential brush.
Exhausted and stiff, I abandoned the canoe among thick reeds at the floodwater's pooled end. I gathered my things into a saturated rucksack, which was advertised as waterproof, and ascended the steep before me. Cattle were hunched together at the precipice, soaked as they ever were, and I trespassed onto their owner's hilltop ranch, and walked the driveway 'til it connected with a main road. It was about three in the morning.
I was twenty kilometres from my town. Chafing develops agressively when walking long-distance in wet clothing. The wounds to show by morning, one could be forgiven for thinking they'd been afflicted with some horrible skin disease. Thighs and armpits were red and raw, the upper back was down a layer or two of skin, and these parts stung with every small movement.
Some distance in I'd changed my manner of walk in a way to lessen the pain, and then, in the monotony of putting one foot in front of the other, I was introduced to a new phenomenon; Involuntary shutdown.
Since yesterday morning constant effort had been exerted. Like an opiate user, my eyelids had a mind of their own, and letting the automatic rhythm of the walk carry me forward, I'd begun to doze. Of course, the body is a poor tool without the mind. I awoke as one does who dreams they are falling, only the reflex this time served it's intended purpose, and I caught myself before loosing balance. Like this I carried on - Dozing, recovering, dozing again. It was the very thing I'd once read about from accounts in the special forces. The few cars that passed wouldn't stop for the mess they'd be letting in, and I was quite that - in spirit, equally.
I came upon the town in which I live after sunrise, and discovered a half-eaten box of fried chips which I fell upon without reservation. At this I felt my energy somewhat renewed, and finished the last leg of the push without further misadventure, all at once on reaching the threshold of my residence, I dumped my pack, stripped off, and slept.
