Breaking Point

by Lesley Choyce

  In the morning, we peeked out from the door of the tent. The sky was blue and brilliant. Seagulls circled around the cove, and around us on the shore tiny sparrows were singing. The spruce trees around us looked full of life as well. It was like we had arrived at our own personal Garden of Eden.

  “They’ll know we slipped off last night by now,” I said.

  She nodded and then produced a crushed box of corn flakes from the pack she had stashed in her kayak. She ate a handful and passed it to me. “Sorry, this is all the food I could steal.”

  I reached into the box and ate a handful of the slightly soggy cereal. “Do you think Chris and the others will come looking for us?”

  She shook her head. “They may make a quick search nearby, but after that, I think they’ll call the police and maybe the Coast Guard.”

  “Holy crap,” I said.

  “You scared?”

  “I’m cool,” I said. “You?”

  “Yeah, a little. But we’ve made the move now. All we have to do is see it through. Any second thoughts on this?”

  “No. I love it out here. And I love being with you.”

  She smiled then, and that made me think I’d made the right decision. Everything was going to be just fine.

  I was still chewing my second mouthful of cornflakes when she said, “Let’s get going.”

  We knocked the tent down, tied it up and stashed it in her kayak. I handed Brianna her life jacket and hitched it up on her. I put mine on. Within minutes, we were back in the water. Brianna studied the compass mounted on the deck of her boat. East again. This time out across a broad open stretch of water.

  There was a light sea breeze and more gulls. In open water, I felt the boat was less steady. I could see Brianna also having some trouble keeping her balance. I reminded her we needed to head directly into the waves more to keep from getting dumped. “Wrong direction,” she said.

  But I had learned a few things back at camp. “It’s called tacking, remember? We might need to go a bit upwind first and then turn and go downwind.” I paddled harder and got ahead of her and made sure she followed my lead. She did.

  It took us about three hours to cross the open water and finally come in close to yet another rocky island. I insisted we go around it on the side facing the mainland, the lee side.

  “Why?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

  “We’ll be more protected from the wind and waves. Easier paddling.”

  She knew I was right, and she smiled. “Always looking for the easy way,” she said. But I knew she was joking.

  That’s when I heard the helicopter engine. I pointed to a speck in the sky in the distance. “It’s headed this way. Could be looking for us.”

  I led us in near the island’s shoreline, and we went into a small bay with high rocks. There was no place to beach the kayaks and hide them. But there was a place where the rocks jutted out over the water. Not exactly a cave, but a place we could hide. “In there,” I said. Brianna followed.

  We pulled in as tight to the rock wall as we could, and I lay my paddle down over her boat and mine. “Do the same,” I said.

  She did. We were now steadied by having temporarily linked our two hulls together. Chris had taught me this trick. It wasn’t easy with the sea moving up and down, but we stayed like that for fifteen minutes as we heard the helicopter come in low nearly right over us. It was red and white, and I was pretty sure whoever was in it was looking for something. Looking for us.

  “Coast Guard,” I said. “They’re searching for us.” But there was no way they would have seen us.

  We lifted paddles and got ready to continue on. “You are so good at this,” Brianna said.

  I felt a little adrenaline buzz as I took several deep strokes and pulled away from the island into the deeper water. I felt good about being in the water, and about what I had learned about the sea and about kayaking. I was good at this. Good at escaping, maybe. Good at making sure Brianna got safely away. And as we paddled on to the next smaller island, I realized that it was me in the lead now, with Brianna following behind. I was going to make sure we got safely to where we needed to go.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was getting windier through the day, but we island-hopped, tucking in behind as many of the small islands as we could to stay protected from wind and waves. We saw a few fishing boats in the distance, and the helicopter came back over us once on its return to wherever it had come from. But we found another little cove, and this time we were hidden in the woods.

  As we lay there on the forest floor resting, Brianna said the strangest thing. “This is better than dealing drugs,” she said.

  I gave her a funny look.

  “No. I mean, like, this is something real. Selling weed had a certain thrill to it. I knew I was breaking the law, but I didn’t feel like I was doing anything wrong. I liked the danger. I liked living by my own rules. But this is better. This is like really taking charge of my own life.”

  It might sound crazy, but I felt exactly the same way. And I knew she wouldn’t have made it this far without me. That made me feel important— responsible. I couldn’t say that out loud to her. Instead, I gave her a hug.

  We were both starving by then, and I insisted we stop for the day, save our strength and figure out how we were going to eat.

  “You set up the tent, and I’ll try to find some food,” I said.

  “Sure.”

  I had listened a bit during those wilderness survival sessions. Funny thing. I’m sure Chris had no idea he was preparing me for our escape. But I was a good student. I found blueberries. Lots of blueberries that I collected in a plastic bag. A few blackberries as well, but they were pretty sour and I didn’t think we should eat too many.

  Down by the shoreline, I dug down where I saw air holes and found clams. In the water, there were mussels clinging to rocks, and really large snails among the seaweed. I returned to camp with as much as I could carry.

  Brianna dove right into the blueberries. “But I don’t think I can eat any of that other stuff,” she said.

  “It’s all good. Even the snails. Escargot, right? Like the French eat.”

  “Raw?”

  “Hmm.” Even I wasn’t sure I could eat any of it raw. “You have matches, right?”

  “Yep. In that waterproof container I stole from camp.”

  “We start a fire.”

  “Not sure that’s a good idea,” she countered.

  “I know, but here’s what we do. We’ll make a small fire, cook these and then put the fire out within a half hour.” I found a large flat outcropping of rock. I set the sea creatures on it and covered them with sand. I placed dry spruce needles and tiny twigs on top and lit them with my first match. I piled on dry sticks and quickly had a good blaze. There was very little smoke. I knew we had to eat, and I was pretty sure we could get away with not being spotted. We munched on the blueberries as we waited.

  When the fire was out, I used a stick to poke around in the sand and fish out our food. I rinsed everything with seawater and ate the first mussel. It tasted great. I held out one for Brianna.

  “I always hated seafood,” she said.

  “But you’ll love this,” I told her and dropped a cooked mussel into her mouth.

  After that we ate it all—the clams were great, the mussels awesome and the snails were just, well, a little weird, but we ate them anyway. I should have thought ahead and cooked more to save for later, but I didn’t.

  That night we talked for hours and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  I awoke in the middle of the night thinking about my parents. I suddenly felt guilty. I’d caused a lot of trouble for them before, but nothing quite like this. I’d call them, I told myself. But not until we were long gone. Montreal. Brianna and me far from here, living a life together in Montreal. It would be great.

  But first we had to get there.

  The next day was really windy but quite warm. The plan was to get some more distance covered.
Brianna figured we were halfway to Port Joseph.

  The first hour of paddling was not so bad, but the wind kept increasing. We had to paddle almost directly into the wind to stay stable, and we were getting very wet and not making much headway.

  “We need to head to the mainland,” I said finally, shouting so she could hear. I wanted to tell her what I feared most. That the tropical storm, possibly a hurricane, was coming in as predicted, but I didn’t get that far. I watched a wave, larger than the rest, break over the bow of Brianna’s kayak. She took the full wet smack of it in the face, and I yelled out her name.

  But as I was focused on her, I hadn’t realized I had turned my kayak sideways to the next incoming waves. The next larger wave broke right on top of me, and I rolled to the side. In a second, I was down in the cold water, still locked into my kayak. Chris would not be there to pull me out this time. Damn. I felt myself being dragged with the boat, but I was underwater and had no control. And I couldn’t breathe.

  I was pretty sure I was going to drown. I was struggling and panicking.

  But then a funny thing happened. I suddenly knew what I had to do. I slowly pushed my body downward from the kayak—down and free of the boat. I released my legs from the cockpit and then swam to the surface, where I heard Brianna screaming my name. She was trying to come toward me but kept getting hit by wave after wave.

  Gasping for breath, I tried to figure out what to do.

  The waves seemed to be getting bigger. The water was really rough. We were far from the mainland. My boat was upside down. If Brianna got wasted now, we’d both be in big trouble. She steadied herself and fought hard to make her way to me. She seemed to understand that she had to keep her boat facing straight into the waves to keep from getting dumped.

  All of a sudden, I knew that we were in a much more dangerous situation than I had ever imagined. And it was my fault. I had taken charge and got us into this. I was so angry at myself, but knew I had to stay cool. I was gasping for breath, but I said, “It’s okay, Brianna. I know what to do.”

  I didn’t really know what to do. But I had to do something. The waves kept bashing us relentlessly.

  I grabbed hold of my paddle floating nearby and then hoisted myself over the upturned kayak and tugged it over until it was upright. But it was completely filled with water. It had floatation chambers in the front and back. It wouldn’t sink, but it was still one heavy, flooded boat. Damn.

  On a calm day, I could have got myself into it, even full of water, and begun bailing with the small bucket and pumping with the emergency pump lashed inside for that purpose. But this was different.

  I thought about the predicament we were in. I thought about me. But then I thought about Brianna. If we stayed here much longer, if she tried to help me, she was sure to swamp as well.

  I held on to my paddle—I’m not sure why. But I held it with one arm, said goodbye to my swamped kayak and swam, one-armed, toward Brianna, who had just taken another wave full in the face.

  When I reached her, I grabbed on to the top strapping that kept the storage hatch sealed and said, “You have to turn us around and head away from the wind.”

  She looked puzzled and scared. I was out of breath and having a hard time talking. I had swallowed a lot of water. “Now!” I screamed at her. I knew that if we didn’t do this immediately, we’d both be in big trouble.

  She started to make the turn, and I used my body weight to help keep us balanced.

  We barely made it fully around before the next wave slammed down on us from the rear. She got soaked again, but her spray skirt was still in place so we didn’t take on water. Looking behind us, however, I realized my abandoned kayak was about to smash down on top of us with the very next wave.

  It took all my strength to pull myself up onto the top of her kayak. But it was all I could think of doing. Brianna bravely kept us steady as I did this, and finally I was sitting astride the kayak behind Brianna, feeling a bit high and unsteady. But at least I was above water. And I hung on to my paddle, despite the fact that the sea had tried its best to steal it from me.

  We didn’t speak after that. We both paddled like mad as the next wave reared up and we saw the other kayak about to be driven into us.

  I leaned back as we began to move suddenly faster—caught now by the incoming wave and riding down the front slope of it.

  We nearly lost it as the bow of the kayak reached the bottom of the wave and began to plunge into the water, but I leaned back farther.

  After that one passed, I realized that maybe we had a chance. I kept my legs locked tight around the hull. Brianna and I paddled as hard as we could.

  The wind kept increasing, and the waves became more persistent. When they broke, they broke over us and from behind. We got hammered over and over. But we didn’t swamp. All we needed to do was keep moving steadily away from the wind with the waves behind us.

  There was another island ahead. And as the waves propelled us, we moved faster. Neither of us said a word. We were paddling for our lives.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brianna didn’t speak as we struggled to keep ourselves moving and steady. As we approached the island, I could see that there was no easy way to put us ashore. There were high jagged rocks all along the front, and we both knew we’d be smashed if we tried to get anywhere close to them.

  “We need to go around to the back of the island,” I shouted.

  “My arms…I can barely move them. I don’t know if I can.”

  I felt much the same way. This wasn’t like anything we’d done before. This was a constant struggle. “I don’t think we have a choice,” I told her.

  “We’re not going to make it,” she said.

  It was the first time I’d heard her say anything like this. I knew she was really scared. So was I. I used all my strength to change our course slightly so we would not be going straight to the island but off to one side. The island wasn’t very big. If we could get around it, we’d be somewhat sheltered from the wind and waves. We’d have a chance.

  Just then we got slammed by a wave that was bigger than all the rest. I felt it coming and braced myself. Brianna screamed when the water came down on top of us. I held tight to my paddle and used it to brace us and keep us balanced.

  The wave had pushed us rapidly forward, and I could see we were getting too close to the rock face of the island. I dug in my paddle after the wave had passed and turned us to the right. I knew Brianna was dead tired, but she kept paddling.

  We were being drawn by the waves and currents straight toward the jagged rocks as we both struggled to move us away. There was a break in the incoming waves, and I knew it was our only chance. “Paddle harder!” I shouted.

  She nodded, and I knew she understood. Now or never.

  After several desperate minutes, we slid past the final outcropping and were caught by a strong landward current that pulled us along the side of the island. And I realized we were getting to where we needed to be. The waves were still coming from behind us now, but they were pushing us faster and not breaking.

  I think it was more luck than skill.

  The wind continued to get stronger and stronger, but that too was in our favor. Finally we were able to begin to turn into the calmer waters behind the island, and I saw a sandy stretch up ahead. Brianna knew we were out of the worst of it and stopped paddling. I think her arms just gave out. So I did what needed to be done. And then, at last, we were finally sliding up onto the gravelly beach with a grinding sound that was the most beautiful thing that I’d ever heard.

  I just fell over onto the sand as Brianna pulled the release on the spray skirt and struggled free. She fell down beside me and hugged me with all her might.

  We lay there, breathing heavily when suddenly the skies opened up and a heavy rain began to pour down on us. “It’s the hurricane,” I said, still rather breathless. My words almost got lost, the sound of the rain and wind was so powerful. I knew we were still in plenty of trouble.


  Brianna clung to me. “It’s like we’re being punished.”

  But I knew it wasn’t that. It was bad timing, bad luck and not taking things seriously enough. We’d been reckless. I thought we’d been brave. But it wasn’t that.

  The rain continued to pound down on us, and I knew we couldn’t just lie there. Brianna had her fingernails digging into my side. Her eyes were closed. Neither one of us felt like we had any energy to move. But we had to. I loosened her grip, stood up and felt dizzy, wobbly. I could barely stay standing.

  But I grabbed the rope on the front of the kayak and dragged it up the beach as high as I could go. Then I went back for Brianna, lifted her to her feet, and we trudged up the steep incline of the beach as the rain suddenly stopped.

  “Thank god, that’s over,” she said.

  “It’s not over. It’s just beginning. If this is the hurricane they predicted coming ashore here, we need to get to someplace safe. That was just a little rainstorm. The real thing will come later. I think we’re going to have to find some way to get help.”

  “No,” she said emphatically, pushing me away suddenly. “I’m not going back there. I know where they’ll send me now, and I know it’s not going to be some summer camp.”

  She didn’t need to worry. We were on an uninhabited island. The weather was going to be god-awful. If they had been looking for us, they would give up the search when the real storm hit.

  We were on our own.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Despite the sudden change to good weather, I felt in my bones that things would only get worse. I pulled the kayak even farther up into the forest and lashed it to a sturdy spruce tree. I tied the two paddles as well and opened the sea hatch, hauled out the tent and the few supplies. Brianna didn’t look too happy.

  “Cameron, I think I’m going to have to continue on without you,” she said.