Favourite Job Experiences - part 2

A few years ago I was part of a team building/training exercise with my employer. I have since left that job, but I will let them remain nameless to protect the criminally incompetent.

The activity was a canoe trip. A canoe trip in a beautiful provincial park, renowned for its beautiful scenery and tranquil series of waterways. At the time I couldn't see a better way to make a week of pay.

The first problem occurred that we left for this trip at this time of year. Early May in my neck of the woods is not a great time for open water, especially on smaller lakes and rivers back in the bush. The fact it had been a cold, long winter added to that. When we arrived, it was a shock to my bosses that the rivers were, indeed, still frozen.

They now had a quandary. They had traveled 4 hours with all their equipment and preparation, and about 20 employees, only to be confronted with their ineptitude to anticipate that critical piece of information. In order to save face, they bravely announced that they saw a clear river about 10 minutes back.

We all jumped back in the trucks and drove back down the road to said river. First to arrive was the 2 tonne cube truck that parked in a dirt turnaround/parking lot, conveniently beside this river. A short journey down a path that led, providentially, to the river's edge, showed that it was indeed clear of ice, and quite full of the spring runoff. We unloaded the canoes, split into groups, and bravely set off.

I decided to enjoy the spring sunshine by sitting comfortably on my lifejacket. It was a relatively small river (about 4 meters across), and I was a comfortable canoeist.
A few strokes downstream led us to a brisk pace.
The brisk pace became a fast rush.
Nervous because I had a rookie canoeist in the bow, I decided to pull ashore. This was when I realized the river had skipped right past frantic paced and had leapt to terrifying speed.

I managed to bring us close to shore where we eventually jammed under a tree that had fallen into the water. That stopped our forward movement. Then the yaw began, as the port(left side you plebeians) side of the canoe slowly saluted the sky. This submerged us into the freshly thawed water.

Now I will take a safety moment for the kids out there. Always wear your lifejacket when on the water. It may not be cool. You might be too warm with it on. But being dorky is nothing compared to the utter terror of descending to the bottom of a rushing river wearing heavy boots and having nothing to float you but sheer panic.

When I returned to the surface I desperately grabbed another canoe (they don't teach you that lifesaving move in swimming lessons). The occupants felt compelled from their deep humanitarian conviction of saving their own skin to beat me away with their paddles before I capsized them as well.

I eventually made it to shore. I was freezing. I was really frakin cold. Still, I stopped to pull a co-worker out who had floated to the side of the river and was jammed in some branches. I figured I should try to get an idea of what was ahead of us. I ran up to the top of a cropping of rock, and looked out on what normally would have been a magnificent sight: A valley lay before me, buds on the trees, the sun streaming through the sky, the roaring waterfall casting mist from it's cascades...

I have said those words many times since, but I doubt they were ever so warranted as that moment. I ran back to warn the others that it was in their best interest to get out of their canoes and onto shore.

Miraculously no one was killed. Just a few cases of minor hypothermia. We were only maybe 10 minutes down the trail from where the vehicles had dropped us off. This was when true leadership showed its colours, and its colours were set to "moron". It was decided that we would set up camp here and wait a few days before calling for help.

We grudgingly set up camp, and a few younger, healthier individuals were selected to go and recover what gear could be done from the half dozen canoes that had, in fact, gone over, albeit without the passengers they had ejected.

Of course I was voluntold. To help you imagine how this felt, fill your bathtub with only cold water. Then get in there and try to lift weights. After about 15 minutes chest deep in this water I recognized that I was becoming hypothermic (they teach you THAT in swimming lessons). I then returned to "camp" where I spent the next hour being a gofer for the other bosses. By gofer, I mean digging. A latrine. Deeper than it already was. It didn't take too long for things to devolve into scenes from “Lord of the Flies”. I joined another camp of co-workers who had their OWN fire and didn't order me to dig through other people's waste.

After a horrible overnight it was decided we should vacate. I was voluntold to run (in the same heavy boots) the 5 kilometers to the nearest phone, call for the trucks, and then run back. That created some blisters. After a few hours the trucks returned, we loaded our wet, cold gear and our grouchy selves on the trucks. Right after seeing the sign that had been obscured by the 2 tonne truck earlier: "Waterfall Lookout Trail ->"

A few days later I was called in to the head boss's office to be formally written up for collaborating with the breakout group of fire makers. No apology or retribution for nearly killing me twice was ever made.

So the moral of this story is: Team building sucks.