In June of 2002, the 9 man team was cut down to 8, as honorable DJ Joshi was unable to attend due to the impending birth of his second child. Though the loss of DJ was great, enough to bring any ordinary team down, this group of 8 persevered. Click here to see the sqaud

Northwestward bound to the fabled fjords of Vancouver Island, just west of Vancouver, we went. After 3 of the team met for some bike riding in Vancouver's Stanley Park, the rest of the team rendez-vous'd at a pub on Robson street late for final preparations - beer and really good cookies...especially the macadamia nut.

Thursday at 0800 hours, the squad was assembled in the hotel lobby to meet the leaders, a very unsuspecting young couple named Jeff and Christine. They led us on the dangerous overland and ferry journey from the mainland across raging seas infested with harbor seals and eventually to our kayak put in. Supplies were gathered beforehand (8 cases of beer, 8 drinking mugs, and toilet paper) and loaded into the kayaks for the treacherous journey to base camp. Lunch was eaten, straws were drawn for kayaking mates, and we headed out.

Most impressive about the team was the incredible tight formations that were formed. Given that most if not all the team had no previous kayaking experience, the chemistry that was apparent from the beginning would have been alarming to any enemy. The leaders instilled a sense of cohesion and discipline that may be only found in the most elite of groups. There was no petty races, displays of power, or paddle splashing as you might have seen in less mature groups.

Base camp was up in a matter of minutes, overlooking the water in strategic directions. Some members tested out the frigid waters, searching for killer starfish or poisonous seaweed. In the distance, we could see Manooch Island, taunting us to swim across the treacherous waters to reach her. None were so foolish. Much beer was consumed for the long hard day to follow.

Only after, and never before sufficient beer was loaded into the kayaks, we headed out. There were 'eyes' everywhere. Bald eagles watched us closely perched atop trees, and the periscope heads of harbor seals would pop up and then down just as quickly, never to be seen again. Westward we persevered, in even tighter formations than before. Tidal pools were scoured for starfish and sea urchins, and the lunch beach was secured. Lunch and beverages were taken before returning to base camp in the late afternoon. That same late afternoon, disaster was narrowly avoided when one of the kayaks capsized. Only the agility and strength of the paddlers allowed it to be turned right side up before irreparable damage was done.

    

The evening was filled with training excercises both physical and mental...hackeysack and euchre. Western Canada is a dangerous place. You have to stay sharp.

Breakfast the following morning was tense. The squadron leaders were growing tired of one of the team members inability to convince them he was Canadian. Give him credit...he tried..and tried..and tried...and then tried some more...yet somehow he was never convincing. The rest of the team covered for him, and persuaded the leaders to take him back to Vancouver wtih us. "The sea was angry that day". The waves pounded the kayaks for hours upon hours. The paddling strength necessary was superhuman, but it was the mental anguish that one cannot prepare for. Finally the inital beach was reached, lunch was taken, and the troop headed out to its next destination: The cabins at the Rapids of Skookumchuck.

  

We met hostile Canadians here, but secured three cabins for rest. We cooked over an open fire that night, and had the luxury of ice cold beverages. One of our team members told us about the dangers of the poison ivy, which he had mysteriously never seen, but had been attacked by many times. This member also showed us the "chimney", which could be used to ward away evil spirits. We stayed up late into the night before turning into our bunks.

On the final morning of the mission, we were awoken early for our return journey overland and oversea to the Vancouver International Airport, where we were subject to intense interrogation over the nature of our business. Satisfied that we had not stolen any of the Canadian culture, we were allowed to return safely to our homes.

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