July 24, 2023 Sudden Storm

The wind blew in steady gusts across the mountains and through the valley. White caps of water crested the lake. I spoke to the people sitting in Peachland watching the water and asked if they wanted to go on their tour or wait until another day.

They’d wait for the next day and avoid the chance of a rough ride on the lake.

The afternoon wound down and so did the wind. Captain Rob had a tour to Peachland for dinner but they elected to cancel for fear of the wind. It was a long cruise on the lake and Rob didn’t want to take the risk. 

As the evening set in, the wind disappeared. 

My phone rang at 6:30. It was the people who were booked to go to Peachland with Rob. Could they get out on the water? The lake looked calm. And indeed, it was a very calm evening now. The threat of heavy wind seemed to have disappeared. 

“I’ll meet you in an hour,” I told the excited couple from Kamloops. 

They thanked me and we agreed to meet at the dock at 7:30. 

It was a stellar evening and they were thrilled to get out on the lake. They were originally from Bombay India and this was their first time on a boat. I found the idea of never being on a boat until your thirtieth birthday an amazing concept. But sure enough, they’d never ventured onto a lake or even the ocean on a boat. I took them down the Okanagan and the water became a glassy reflection of the setting sun. Red and gold colours painted the sky and they gleamed with the peace and excitement of it all. 

They asked if we could go fast across the water and I laughed. Sure, I could take them for a quick burst. The look of joy and wonder on their faces made me smile. 

Moments like that make me grateful to be able to share my love of the water with people from near and far. 

As we wound down our tour I cruised up to the launch and dropped my guests off so they could go for a nice evening meal to finish her birthday celebration.

Now to go back and park the boat. 

I had thoughts of driving to the launch in Westbank from downtown Kelowna and bringing it home for the night. Getting fuel on land would save well over a hundred dollars. 

But it was dark and I was tired. It would be so much easier to just take the boat back to its slip on the west side of Okanagan Lake. I debated in my head the merits of getting gas, but something inside me told me to get to the dock and call it a night.

I’d only docked at the slip with Serendipity one time before and that was with help. But there wasn’t a breeze in the air and I felt confident going in. When I approached the dock, I thought briefly about tying up on the outside and leaving it till the morning. There was no wind and it felt like the easy way out. But my lights on the boat lit everything up and Captain Rob had mounted lights on the dock. 

So it was almost too easy as I drove the boat in the narrow entrance and backed it into its slip for a peaceful slumber. 

I tied up the first couple of lines and then tied off the spring lines making sure the boat was secure. As I put the last line in place, it began to blow.

A sudden wind surged over the mountain, I held on tight and pulled in the rope. Now to cover the bimini and get going home. 

The wind blew stronger. 

I stared at the lines and questioned myself. Is it tied right? Even in the shelter on the leeward side of the lake, I felt the wind buffet the boat. It kept picking up. I thought briefly about covering the boat. I was tired and I figured it wouldn’t rain much. At least the forecast wasn’t calling for much rain. 

The wind turned into almost gale force and I double-checked the lines. I took a deep breath and hopped back on the dock. The boat secure in its slip for the night – I hoped.

I walked to my motorcycle and felt the first lashing of the rain. It started to come harder and I stared back at the boat. Part of me wanted to go and triple-check the lines. Yet what more could I do? I still had a fifteen-minute motorbike ride home.

And it was raining harder.

With one last look at the boat, I jumped on my machine and headed home. I cursed myself for taking my rain gear out of my saddle bags earlier in the week. I rode the bike up the gravel road from the dock and felt my pulse race with anxiety. It was as windy as I’d ever felt. And I still wasn’t even on the highway. 

I pulled onto the pavement and felt more wind and rain lash my body. I hid behind my windscreen and carefully accelerated to the speed limit. A few minutes later, I merged onto Highway 97 and was pushed across the lane by a surging wind blast. Puddles had formed on the road and I was splashed by a passing car. Now I was wet, and holding on to my machine, willing it to stay upright. 

After a few more minutes on the highway, I saw my escape. There was no way I wanted to ride the exposed roadway all the way home at 80 km per hour. I turned off the highway and took the back way home. I’d been riding motorcycles for almost forty years and this was one of the worst winds I’d ever ridden in. Even at 50 km per hour, I felt fear surge through me every time the wind nailed me from the side. 

Ten long minutes later I pulled into my driveway, the right-hand side of my body soaked from the driving rain. I came into the house and hugged my honey tight. 

“Thank god you didn’t try to bring the boat to Westbank,” were her first words when I walked in the door.

It was good I’d followed my instincts and took the boat to its slip. The whole night I felt trepidation about what the boat was going through. Would it be alright? Would the lines hold? Would the dock hold? It was the worst wind I’d seen since moving to the Okanagan 17 years before. 

Morning came and we heard about the aftermath. Some boats in the yacht club were damaged, and another pontoon boat on the slip at the Delta was half submerged, its motor smashed and ruined. The parasail guy, luckily, was on the dock working on his boat when the wind hit, and managed to save it with the help of his employees. The worst he suffered was a dislocated kneecap. 

Our boat survived the night.

It was a lesson in Mother Nature’s fury. A lesson that you never know when the weather can change. A reminder to follow my instincts and sometimes it’s a good idea to find shelter in case of an oncoming storm.