A furious storm raged across the huge bay. “It’s so dark! I can’t see!” cried Carrie, an experienced boater, as she tried to steer the group’s 14-foot furiously swaying motorized boat. Also onboard were Carrie’s dad, her friend Megan, and several other church group members. Somewhere nearby, but now out of sight, was a canoe containing youth group leader Mike, along with Megan’s mom.

Rain pelted everyone, soaking them to the bone.

The group had gone up to the Canadian Shield wilderness for a few days of camping, canoeing, and nature enjoyment. All had gone well until the return journey. One setback after another caused them to leave at dusk, 12 hours after their planned departure time.

Late in the evening they prayed and set off.

It’s easy to get lost traveling across the immense Georgian Bay in the dark. Now thunderheads had piled up in the sky, and the storm had struck. Instantly it had gone from dusk to darkness, from calm to whitecaps. The wind blew, and the rain flew. Thunder roared again, deafeningly loud.

“Where’s the canoe?” someone yelled over the roaring wind.

“I don’t know!” another responded.

“Everyone keep looking,” said Carrie’s dad.

Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the darkness.

“There it is!” Carrie shouted, glimpsing the canoe ahead of them. She slowed the small boat to avoid crashing into it.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the lightning was now gone, plunging them back into darkness. Another wave pitched the small motorboat to one side, and spray flew over the bow, drenching them yet again. Water threatened to flood the overloaded vessel.

I’m going to die! Megan thought as thunder shook the earth and sky. The relentless rain battered them. Then another lightning flash.

Meanwhile, ahead in the canoe Mike spoke to his passenger. “Just stay calm. Our canoe will stay steadier if we don’t move around.”

Suddenly, through the gloom, Mike noticed a hazy light. Must be a cottage, he reasoned. He steered toward it, glancing back to make sure Carrie was following in the motorboat.

“Where’s he going?” Carrie gasped.

“I don’t know!” Megan responded.

A wall of rain slammed into them. Coughing and sputtering, the boaters wiped the water from their faces.

“I can’t see the canoe!” Carrie shouted, peering through the watery darkness.

Suddenly there was a loud scraping sound. The motor sputtered and stalled. The boat shuddered to a stop. They’d struck ground. Several of the group yelled for help.

Meanwhile a couple was relaxing in their cozy cabin, listening to the storm howling outside.

“Those are some strange-soundin’ birds,” the fellow remarked to his wife.

“What do you mean, ‘birds’?” she asked.

The man listened closely. “Wait. Those aren’t birds. Someone is shouting!” he exclaimed. The cottager burst into the howling gale and ran toward the lake. The wind kept blowing, and the rain kept falling as the man splashed out into the shallow water. He began helping everyone out of the grounded boat.

“Get up to the house!” he shouted. Thankful, everyone tramped into the cottage, soon followed by Mike and Megan’s mom. Everyone was safe and accounted for.

The cottage was warm and snug and filled with the fragrance of freshly baked banana bread. The couple handed towels to the soaked, shivering strangers, got them
all a warm drink, and gave them slices of the mouth-watering banana bread.

Eventually a police boat arrived and escorted the group safely to Honey Harbour. The weary but grateful voyagers would have an exciting story to tell—the one you just read!