May 17, 2026 – Discover frozen chicken breast in the back of freezer and decide to make chicken/vegetable soup… when the weather gets a bit cooler.
Before I immerse myself in this story (pun intended) I feel a need to do a little preamble just to wake up the Muse and get the creative juices flowing. It’s currently September 19, 2026 – a full 4 months since I fell out of my Kayak into the frigid waters of Deep Cove on May 20 – and I’m having my usual bout of “post-Mayne Island Shavasana Gallery & Café busy season” difficulties, shifting gears from Curator/Barista to writer/creative guy.
I wrote the first paragraph (below) back in early June when I had a little time off and felt the story calling to me in its immediacy. At the time, falling out of a kayak and having a dramatic near brush with death, with a few comic interludes thrown in, felt like an experience worthy of a write up – and I believe it still is. I decided to call this stand-alone story the “Kayaccident” – a harrowing and humorous recounting of the frightening, funny and fortunate events of that day.
The intervening time, however, has been not only busy – as mentioned – but sadly replete with the deaths, illnesses and injuries of a number of dear friends, which has deflated my keenness to dive in (more pun intention) to this short story. At one time I had five friends in hospital with various injuries and illnesses of their own, making my own unwary plunge into the chilly waters of Indian Arm seem more like a much-needed cautionary wake-up call …a bucket of cold water thrown over my head, “Aww, poor Georgie… you got wet…wah-wah-wah! Get over it you withering milksop!”
But, in light of this statistic, “that between 400 and 450 people died by drowning in Canada last year – 83 in B.C. alone” – I think “The Kayaccident” has merit, and it shall be told as my own little stand-alone story within the larger picture of “Accidents, Illnesses, Death & Chicken Soup.”
Have a read:
“The Kayaccident”
Although I had seen the man in the red baseball cap come and go from my local morning coffee shop for several years, he and I had never exchanged a single word until this day – limiting our interactions to simple smiles, nods and the occasional “hey.” In a moment of impeccable timing and uncanny prescience, “Red Cap” walked by our table while I was having an animated conversation with my friend Jordy about an impending kayak trip, that I was about to have with my son Cameron later that afternoon. Just as I half-jokingly said the words, “What could possibly go wrong?”, “Red Cap” stopped in mid-stride while passing our table, turned and looked at me, and, with a wry smile said, “Famous last words.”
Cameron had bought two kayaks several months prior, and, upon learning of this I began suggesting that he and I go on a little father/son adventure – as we had done several times together, via bike and kayak. We even had an overnighter together on a two-man Kayak a few years prior through the Belle Chain Islets up to Cabbage and Tumbo Islands– overnighting there – and then around Saturna the following day.
Cameron is a true outdoorsman – hiking, flying, mountain climbing, camping…and kayaking – and is equipped for all-weather activities. His father, conversely, is a fair-weather activities guy who is afraid of heights and prefers to go for lunch…on a nice day. But I am also cursed with that sometimes-fatal male delusion that I can actually do anything (flying and mountain climbing excluded) and am invincible… when the weather allows.
And today, May 20, 2026, was just such a day.
“Let’s do it Cam! Finally, it looks great out there…sunny, warm…just you and I on the open chuck exploring Deep Cove and maybe up Indian Arm. Should be fun!” “Ok Dad – can you be here around 9:30? Andreas and Mateo will be in daycare. We can probably load up the kayaks and get to Deep Cove by 10:30ish for a 3 – or 4 -hour paddle.” “Sure thing Cam, rush hour should be over, so, if I hit the road by 8:30 I should be to you just after 9 or so…see ya then!”
The drive from Kitsilano, through East Van and over the Second Narrows to their place in Lynnmour was uneventful, and soon we were attaching roof racks to Cam’s car, hauling the kayaks out of storage and gathering everything we’d need for a safe and fun trip – life jackets, paddles & pumps, snacks in a dry bag, and a rope…in the remote chance we had some kind of aquatic mishap.
Deep Cove is a spectacular place – a beautiful bay surrounded by mountains, parks and vistas – pulling Ocean water all the way from the Pacific, through the Salish Sea, up Burrard Inlet to Indian Arm, and back. Hiking abounds, and it is a natural and compelling place for all sorts of watersports. It’s such a popular launching site for kayakers that some enterprising soul has set up the Deep Cove Kayak Centre which rents kayaks to all who may not come so equipped.
But Cam & I are equipped. Cam will be piloting his yellow, heavier, ocean-going kayak and I’ll be in the slightly lighter blue, thermoformed plastic model.
When you are schlepping kayaks from a parking lot, across roads, and down several flights of stairs to the beach, however, neither model feels “light” as you are shouldering about 75 pounds of boat…not something you should do alone.
Suiting up, doublechecking, getting ready to launch, and Cam noticed that I was carrying my cell phone with me. “You should probably put that in my dry bag Dad – you wouldn’t want to drop it in the water accidentally.” “Aww, I was hoping to take some good action shots of you and I…nice to have something to throw on F’Book or show the family.” “Yeah, generally not recommended…no fun to lose a $1200 phone…and you should be keeping your hands on your paddle anyway, for safety and control of your boat – you never know when waves or wind might kick up.” …”OK, I hear you, here it is – but hold on! I’ll take one of us before we take off. I need something to show that I’m here having a fun adventure with my boy!” I said smiling as I grabbed Cam for a quick selfie before we took off.
The launch was smooth and successful. We had decided to head towards Jug Island Beach, a pebbly, crushed shell spot, which would be a perfect place for us to land our craft and have a few snacks. The beach was about 2.5 kilometers across the bay – a relatively easy 50-minute trip given the current conditions.
The day was just beautiful – small clouds floating languidly through blue skies, on a warm day with gentle winds – idyllic and, seemingly, perfect for a little kayaking adventure.
If you actually know what you’re doing.
I noticed, within fairly short order, that my kayak was pulling constantly to the left, and I had to do about 8 or 10 left side paddles for every 1 or 2 right side pulls just to keep my bow straight. I mentioned this to Cam and – as my boat didn’t have a rudder with pedals – he asked if my Skeg was fully unleashed.
“Huh? What’s a Skeg?” I asked, revealing glimpses of my pitiful lack of basic knowledge about kayaks and their proper functioning. “It’s like a fin on the bottom of your boat that you can raise or release – with that slider knob thing”
I jiggled and pushed the knob indicated but never felt assured that my efforts were truly working. “You should be ok until we get to the beach,” said Cam, “I’ll have a look at it then.” So, we carried on our merry way.
Without further issue or trouble (except for my extra left side paddling) we made it safely to Jug Beach, jumped out, hauled the kayaks up on the shore and found a soft sandy place to sit and enjoy our snacks. “God Cam, I love this place – I’m so glad we’re doing this, thanks for taking time out of your busy-Dad schedule to humour your old man.” “No problem, Dad, I always like getting out on the water…and taking a break from that busy-Dad routine works for me too.” We both chuckled.
Jug Island Beach is not, in fact, on Jug Island – both are quite small and the beach is situated a few hundred feet away on the mainland, at the foot of a trail that goes through Belcarra Park. There were a dozen or so people on the beach, most of which must’ve hiked the trail through Belcarra, as we were the only kayaks in sight. Snacks consisted of some chocolate covered almonds, an orange each and a bag or two of chips and cheezies for mindless munching.
After an hour or so of beachy bliss and conversation, it was time to head back. We turned the blue Kayak over so Cam could look at the Skeg and see if there was anything wrong with the control knob. After making sure that it could release and retract properly, Cam said, “Hey Dad, I’d like to paddle your kayak back to Deep Cove just to see if I have the same issue as you…see if everything is working properly, and you can take mine back…just be a little careful.. it’s kinda tippy.”
The words “kinda tippy” didn’t even register on my richter scale of worry or concern, as I was trading the smaller problematic kayak for a larger boat with a rudder and pedals. Plus, Cameron had just completed a successful crossing of the bay without incident – why should I even think for a moment that there might possibly be a problem. Lack of caution, bad risk management, an overriding optimistic world view that “everything will be alright, combined with “fatal invincible gullibility syndrome”, are personal traits that have not always served me well. I hopped into the yellow kayak, pushed off, turned around and shouted to Cam, “C’mon! Let’s go!”
“I’m not sure what Cam meant,” I thought to myself as I paddled along, “this boat seems just the same as the blue one, except for the left side pull…no tippy tippy at all.” We carried on in fine fashion heading straight across the bay, aiming very much directly at the small, charming village of Deep Cove, and the beach from whence we’d launched two hours prior. All felt good, all felt right…the blue sky, the sun, the warmth…and then, the slight increase in wind and wave activity as we left the safety of Jug Island Beach Bay and entered the unprotected waters of Indian Arm.
“Hmmm, ok,” I thought to myself, “a little windier and wavier out here in the middle of the chuck… I got this.” The openness and unprotected length of Indian Arm, contributed to the winds and waves that we hadn’t experienced on our way over…or, that I didn’t notice in my inattentive oblivion. And it was inconsistent…a wave…a lull…a gust of wind…no wind, dead calm. And then, the unexpected robust breeze combined with greater wave activity.
I’m not quite sure what to say about this last combination of wind & wave, but it was enough to wake me out of my complacency and – predictably – compel me do the wrong thing. Rather than bestowing control, my untrained answer to this ripple-gust was to throw my body weight into it just as it abated, resulting in me being the driving force of “tippiness” …I essentially, and effectively, threw myself out of my kayak, into the unexpectedly cold waters of Indian Arm.
The nice day was over; and a new reality descended upon us.
We’ve all jumped into lakes – or the ocean – and in fact, do so willingly on a warm summer day, to swim, play, splash and frolic. But we are not usually wearing leggings, sandals, a t-shirt, a windbreaker, life-preserver, glasses, a hat and carrying a wallet and keys in our pockets.
The kayak flipped on top of me as I plunged head-first into the chilly waters of Indian Arm. Without foreknowledge of this event, there was no time to pause and “take a breath” as one does prior to normal ocean dives. I swallowed salt water and flailed about as my mind raced in primitive instinct survival mode. I struggled out of the kayak – which luckily had no skirt to impede my exit – detected “up” and propelled myself towards the light. Bursting out of the water, surfacing, and spewing out whatever salt water had entered my lungs – coughing, sputtering, and then looking for something to hang onto…which, in this case was the overturned kayak. Regaining my breath, I looked around for Cam who had now spun around to come to my assistance, while I clung to the upturned aft of my “tippy yellow boat.”
“Well,” I said breathlessly to Cam, “that’s refreshing” “You OK Dad?” Cam replied. “Yeah, Jesus, didn’t expect that… bit of wind and wave and I guess I overcompensated by leaning into it too much…chucked myself overboard Cam!” I chuckled. I was grateful to realize that I hadn’t lost my glasses, so my vision was intact, but my favourite hat was gone, swirling around in the deeps of Deep Cove – perhaps winding up on the head of a passing seal.
Never having taken a kayak safety course, I had no actual idea how to effectively and successfully re-enter my bateau from this precarious position – but I had complete confidence in Cam’s experience and knowledge in this regard, to guide me step by step back into the safety of my craft. “Can you tell me how to get back into this thing?” I asked.
“No Dad, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Cam, “I brought this rope and I figure I’ll tie one end around myself, and the other end to your kayak, and tow you back in, as you hang onto the kayak.” Because of my complete confidence in Cam’s understanding of our situation and the safest way to do whatever needed to be done, I said, “OK Cam, let’s get at it…it’s a wee bit chilly out here.”
From my new perspective – soaking wet old dude, immersed up to his neck in cold water, clinging where possible to the slick & smooth surface of the upturned underbelly of the kayak – I could see the difficulty of trying to raise my, now wetter, heavier self, in a complex chin-up move to regain entry. Cam’s right, I thought, towing it is. “How we doing there lad?” I hollered through the wind and waves, “I’ll kick as best I can while you paddle – it should help out a bit, I hope.”
As my initial panic had subsided, because we had a plan, I started to analyze the situation we were in. We were almost equidistant between Deep Cove and Jug Island beach – about a kilometre either way – and Cameron was choosing to take us back to the beach we’d parted from 30 or 40-minutes prior because of the way the wind & waves were shaping up. My normal weight of 205 pounds had probably jumped to 220 with the wet clothing, this plus a 70- or 80-pound upturned kayak meant Cam was towing 300 pounds of dead weight…not an easy task under any circumstances. But he’s a brave strong lad, so we set off.
It wasn’t easy in any sense; we were still in the Indian Arm wind tunnel – where breezes come flowing down the valley unimpeded. Cam was using all his skill and strength to move us slowly towards our destination, and I was slowly getting colder and colder. It seemed – for a time – that Cam was steering us towards a wall of rock, with no effective place to land, but in retrospect, I think this was the effect of the winds pushing him off-course. He doubled down on his paddling and concentrated all his energy and effort to move us away from the rocks and towards the beach.
And then, seemingly out of nowhere, a diminutive 75-year-old Québécoise woman came beetling up towards us in her inflatable kayak that was powered by a small motor. As she approached, she hollered out, “Allo gentlemen!” You seem to be ‘aving some difficulty, would you like some ‘elp?” Both Cam and I immediately shouted, in unison, “Yes Please!!” through the wind and waves with voices either strained by effort or chattering slightly because of the cold.
Our Deus ex Machina, in the form of a small, feisty, woman named Joanne had arrived! Salvation! …almost.
As she threw Cameron her rope to attach to my kayak, I had momentary impatience with the process which seemed – to my increasingly numb body – to be taking too much time. “OK, let’s get going guys, Georgie is getting chilly!” “Yeah, yeah, we’re working on it…almost there,” came their pre-occupied reply. Once she was safely attached, off we went.
The additional help was noticeable immediately. I think we got lucky being discovered by someone with a motorized kayak, as this seemed to add stability of direction and speed of movement. I could see the beach getting closer, and this warmed my heart – if not yet my body.
Within about ten minutes we got close enough to the beach for me to let go of the kayak and float, swim, walk, stagger my way onto shore. My legs were too cold to stand effectively so, my exit from the sea was not terribly graceful as I crawled and dragged myself onshore – moving up far enough that I was able to flip over and lie on the warm dry sand.
The relief was palpable, as I just lay there on the beach in appreciation for Cam – and Joanne – who had likely just saved my life. And an extra nod to Cam for equipping me with a life preserver before we embarked on our trip. If I had been out there on my own – with just a life preserver – I am not certain if survival would have been guaranteed. Impossible to say.
But, the beach, the warmth, the slow recovery was sublime, as I gazed around with an enhanced appreciation for life, the beauty of nature, and the kindness of strangers. As I lay there recovering, a half dozen 30-somethings came running over with water and snacks to see if I needed anything, or if they could help in any way. I took their offers gladly, as a little bit of water and a few chocolate covered almonds were refreshing reminders of the beauty of kindness and existence.
After a few sips and treats I thanked them profusely and then – somewhat cautiously – got on my feet so I could hug Cam and Joanne and thank them both for “saving Dad.” We stood on the beach for a while, talking to Joanne and discussing what had just transpired. I looked at the kayaks and the distance across Indian Arm back to Deep Cove – and thought, I can’t get back in a kayak right now – if ever. I’d lost my sea-going mojo and couldn’t conceive of going through this same ordeal again.
“Cam, I’m sorry lad, but I’m not getting back in the kayak, so I won’t be able to help you get them back to Deep Cove.” Cam looked at the two kayaks and reflected on this new situation. “Hmm,” he pondered, “well, I can probably just tie the blue one behind me and tow it back…I guess.” Then Joanne spoke up, “Don’ worry Cam, I can ‘elp you tow it back across to Deep Cove…should be easy,” she said confidently.
“What are you going to do Dad?” Build a driftwood shack and live here on the beach?” We all laughed, as I thought about my limited options. Looking around, I noticed a trail that spilled out of the trees onto the beach a few hundred feet away. “You see that trail over there?” I asked. “Yeah,” he replied, “that’s the trail head through Belcarra Park – Nekita and I have hiked that a few times.” “Well, I imagine it eventually leads to a parking lot and a road which connects to the rest of the world…I’m going to hike through the woods and call you when I hit the parking lot.”
“Well then,” replied Cam, “you’ll need this.” Cam reached into his dry bag and pulled out my cell phone. “Oh yeah, great!” I said reaching for my phone, “Good idea stowing it Cam…it would be at the bottom of the bay if I’d had my way.”
I can’t begin to tell you how comforting it was to have access to my cell phone. Another level of reconnect with civilization and the world… an ability to fix the new problem at hand. “Ok, so here’s my thought,” I said to Cam, “when I hit the parking lot, would you be able to come and get me, or will I need to call an Uber?” “Uhh, yeah, Dad, I can come and get you,” said Cam, thinking and planning out loud, “gotta get the kayaks back across the Bay to Deep Cove, where the car is, then head over 2nd Narrows Bridge, backside of Burnaby Mountain, through Port Moody, Coquitlam, and up Belcarra Peninsula… probably going to take me 2 or 3 hours.” “OK, probably going to take me a couple of hours to hike through Belcarra…we’d better get moving, I know you’ve got kids to pick up…let’s go!”
Fortunately – despite my wet clothing – the day was warm and I didn’t feel hypothermic. I was experiencing a kind of post-traumatic high… a profound sense of appreciation for my surroundings, and a heightened awareness of my senses… the caress of a warm breeze, the beauty of light filtering through the trees as I walked the trail through Belcarra.
I was almost alone on the trail, with the exception of a few solo female joggers who looked sideways at the “old wet bedraggled guy” smiling gratefully and walking gently and carefully along the root and rock-strewn trail.
This was another net effect of my recent experience – a heightened level of caution and care as I wandered this trail, which was not without its own scattered dangers and difficulties…” Hmmm,” I thought, “I could easily slip on one of these roots, or trip on a rock and break a limb, or two. Probably not wise to be doing this solo either.” Paranoia? Wisdom? or just awareness? It felt good to be aware, careful, and self-preservant.
In this mildly cautious, yet blissful state, I continued hiking – only vaguely aware of time, projects, deadlines or obligations. It was just me, and nature… and of course, my cell phone. It was in this happy, blissful state that I came across a small party of 5 on their way to Jug Island Beach. Three of their party had broken away from a couple who had stopped, mid-hike, to have an argument. “There’s no way Trudeau could ever have been a good Prime Minister,” said the woman forcefully, “he was just a Drama Teacher!” “Oh yeah, well, at least he’s not a fascist totalitarian like Trump,” replied the man, emphatically.
Hearing this exchange broke my pleasant reverie and brought the world – that I had momentarily discarded – come galloping back. I stopped and looked at them both, thinking, “Christ, there’s literally no escaping this fucking conversation.” My stare, and disheveled look, caught their attention as they paused their argument long enough to turn towards me… expectantly. “Look where we are,” I said, gesturing to the majestic grove of trees which surrounded us, “we’re in the middle of this beautiful forest, embraced by nature…this solitude.” And then, lowering my voice, I said, with a slight growl, “Just…give….it…. up!” And walked away.
I heard the man laugh, and the woman say, with indignation, “I’ll discuss whatever I want!” as I slowly wandered on my way, out of rage range. “Man,” I thought, “this bloody debate can show up anywhere,” … as I imagined lying on an operating room table just before the anaesthetic kicks in with the ER doctor saying, “Nurse scalpel… can you believe what Trump said today?”
Walk walk walk, breathe, nature, breathe, focus, breathe, relax – and remember, you are one of the lucky ones, you didn’t contribute to Canada’s annual drowning statistic.
The last bit of my Belcarra hike was sublime and uneventful. After my blissful 2-hour forest hike, I spilled out onto Bedwell Bay Road across from the parking lot on Tum Tumay Wheuton Drive, which felt comforting, and was one more step towards normalcy.
Just as I was preparing to call Cameron to arrange pick up, I noticed a bus stop right across the street from the forest exit. “Hmm,” I thought, “fantastic, I’ll just access my Translink App and grab a bus… that’ll save Cam a ton of travel time. …hmm, cool! Only 5 minutes to arrival.” Realizing further, that I’d left my wallet in my Van near Cam’s home, and therefore had no bus pass or money, I remembered that I’d set my phone up to do VISA transactions, which would work for payment.
Feeling grateful for a return to more control.
I noticed a large white rock warming in the sun beside the Bus Stop, and wandered over to sit, ponder my – now – improving fortunes, and warm my damp ass. “I may not be great with a kayak,” I thought, “but I know how to navigate the urban environment with my trusty little cell.” I called Cam to meet me in Port Moody – saving him a 45-minute drive.
The beautiful day had returned.
Afterword:
Here is a brief rundown of the flurry of worrisome & tragic events of the last 4 months – each of which could be a story in and of itself – and my chronic need to add a touch of humour (I think) to all things written & observational, which gave rise to the title “Accidents, Illnesses, Death & Chicken Soup”.
May 20 – Fall out of Kayak and have a brush with death; June 15 – Friend Janis Dies; July 9 – Friend Deborah dies; July 31 – Friend Mary falls from a height and suffers multiple injuries; Aug 8 – Janis Celebration of Life; Aug. 17 – Deborah Celebration of Life; early August- friend Jim suffers a nasty broken toe; Mid-August friend Jennifer in hospital, with unknown illness; Aug 25 – friend & neighbour Billie suffers a massive Stroke and is hospitalized; and, on the same day Aug. 25 – friend Pat breaks hip and is hospitalized; Sept 6 – friend Eros dies; Sept. 15 – A visit with Billie in hospital;
…Sept. 17 and it’s feeling a little chilly out, Fall seems to be upon us. “Oh Yeah,” I thought, “I’ve got that frozen chicken breast in the back of the freezer… better cook that up before it gets freezer burn… perfect day for a bowl of my famous chicken vegetable soup.”
(PS. Re Cover Image: I did ask ChatGPT to create this image for me…so this is an Ai creation. I know that might offend some people (cartoonists for sure) but here’s the thing, I don’t have the skills to create this cartoon myself (without a lot of time and effort), nor the budget to do so. So, 15 seconds in the Ai machine and voila!…an image👍👍😊)
