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Amazing and memorable events

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Have you experienced or witnessed a natural occurrence that amazed you?

Examples:
Geysers
Earthquakes
Rogue waves
Sunsets

I have heard told of a solo canoeist who while paddling as the temperature was drastically falling watched the water in front of him started forming white snowflake shaped crystals on the surface and then with each stroke the water began to freeze solid. He described making his way towards the shore as the ice formed and the bow of the canoe broke through until it became necessary for him to smack the ice in font with his paddle in order to move forward.

One time I recall hiking in the mountains on a cool drizzly day and walking into some fog. The terrain was wooded with very little underbrush so walking was not difficult. As I was ascending a small peak, the fog became very dense and then at one point all of a sudden I walked into an area where I witnessed a distinct separation of clear view and dense fog. I was amazed, the fog was about waist deep and so dense that at times I could barely see my legs or feet but I could continue walking because visibility above my waist was clear. I recall reaching down into the fog and trying to swish it around. I had to be somewhere so I continued on course and quickly walked out of the area but I have never forgotten the experience.
 
I saw a water spout way too close for comfort on Lake Michigan.

I witnessed a crazy mirage on Lake Champlain when a cold front was coming in during the summer. Way off in the distance (several miles) it looked like huge blurry vertical waves coming off the lake. Very trippy and yes I was soberish.

Bob
 
Fishing Upper McNalley Pond in the North Maine woods I heard a roaring noise getting louder. Paddling out of the little cove I was in I saw a wall of water headed my way. The rain was so heavy I couldn't see beyond it. As it washed over me the rain hitting the water was so loud it was almost deafening. In just a couple minutes I was soaked through...I think I would have been drier had I just jumped into the pond. After the rain passed it turned into a beautiful sunny day.
 
I've experienced an earthquake but not while canoeing. It was the first day I had ever given up smoking. In terror, I instinctively reached for my chest pocket pack of cigarettes, which wasn't there. Surviving that cigarette-needing event, I've never smoked again for the past 41 years.

As for natural events when canoeing:

• Tom and I paddled a partially iced Roeliff Jansen Kill in the early spring, scouting it as a first descent for an AMC club trip the following week. As we paddled out the end of the RJK into the extremely wide Hudson River, the Hudson was chock full of thousands of ice floes and small bergs from ice break-up further north. We silently slalomed around and between the ice floes for a long time, feeling in motion pleasure harmony with nature.

• The next week about 25 canoeists showed up to paddle this new river (to us), but the weather had turned much colder during the week and the lower 20% of the RJK had re-frozen. We paddled laboriously and slowly through slush. (Thank goodness we had invincible Iliad paddles.) We dragged canoes across solid but thin ice, roped together to save paddlers from falling through the ice. Amazingly, the Hudson was completely free of the enchanting ice floes and bergs, which we had touted, further disappointing the frozen and exhausted group.

• I paddled alone among icebergs at the base of a glacier in Portage Lake, Alaska, outside of Anchorage.

• Paddling downstream for a long time on a narrow and very slow river new to me, I suddenly realized that the water had changed direction and I was magically paddling upstream. I was completely discombobulated, thinking I was in the Twilight Zone or Alice in Wonderland. I turned the canoe around so as to paddle down the current and finally figured out what had happened. I had veered off the downstream river and into a tributary. I got fooled because the tributary was wider and straighter ahead than the main stream, which bent away at the confluence, and the current was so slow everywhere that I didn't notice my mistake until I had progressed several hundred yards up the tributary.

 
My voyageur canoe team and I decided to spend the passing of a New Years at my dad's remote hunting camp on the Tug Hill Plateau of NY. The "Tug" is a relatively broad flat elevation just east of Lake Ontiario. It is famous for what is arguably the highest snowfall anywhere east of the Rockies with lake effect snow. I've seen 400 inch winters up there.

So though the bulk of my team lives some distance away, I live about half way between them and the cabin. We all met at my place for a big dinner before leaving for a night at the camp. Lake effect began falling as we left my house after dinner and came in its usual narrow bands as we travelled in and out of heavy snowfall and then nothing. There is a tavern where I have to park my car for the 2 mile ski/hike into the camp on an unmaintained unplowed road. At the parking lot we gad had skis, and carried snowshoes. A couple of small plastic sleds dragged behind carried our food and gear. Most days that road is popular and crowded with snowmobilers, but the usual crowded parking lot had none on that New Year's Eve. The road is usually groomed smooth for the machines, but it was evident it had not been done recently. So we began our trek on the road at around 10:00 PM. It usually takes me about 45 minutes to ski in when I go to shovel deep snow off the roof every couple of weeks or so in the dead of winter.

At first the soft fluffy snow piling up was ankle deep, then it came up to over our calves soon after. When it got to our waists we started to get worried. I have before experienced snowfall rates of as much as 5 inches/hour, and this was certainly all of that. At that rate if you inhale deeply you will take in those fat heavy flakes enough to make you choke. That is what was coming straight down, with no wind as is typical at heavy lake effect rate. One person would trudge ahead 50 feet or so and return to make a path. We took turns doing that for each other. About half way we passed an abandoned broken down house belonging to an old man (a bit od a hermit) who I knew from years before. Becky wanted to break in to spend the rest of the night. But we were doing ok so far and I did not want to break into Adam's house without having an emergency.

I had no idea what time it was because my wrist cuff was iced over and I could not see my watch. But The nearly full moonlight was able to shine through enough for us to make out shapes. Lake effect snow may be intense, but the clouds tend to be low and not terribly thick. When we got to within about the final hundred yards of the camp i noticed that the ambient light was getting much brighter. I scraped away the ice from my wrist and saw that it was 7:30 in the morning and the sun was rising! It had taken over 9 hours to travel what normally takes me 45 minutes any other time. We flopped into the cabin and I lit the fire. The next morning I had help shoveling snow off the roof and the caterpillar track groomer came by and opened up the road for the snowmobilers. We made our way out on skis easily in about an hour of travel back to our cars. To this day, when ever I see some of my old team mates, we say the word "Epic" to remember that New Year trek.

This is a more typical shot of the cabin with a more normal snowload at a different time, not from the truly epic night of travel.
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I've got a couple...

Woke up one morning in LA, camped on a hill... fog filled the valley, and the mist had settled on the thousands of spider webs in the brush around me. Looked like I was surrounded by jellyfish. Surreal.

An encounter with a bear in 2009 remains with me, and is memorialized in my avatar.

I once watched a hawk chase a squirrel around in a tree from eye level (I was perched in a tree stand 50 yards away.) The sheepish look on the hawk's face afterwards was priceless.

I have one particular campfire seared into my memory, due primarily to the remoteness and silence I experienced, coupled with the skill involved in getting there.

Lunch on the southern shore of Clamshell Pond, at the carry to Turtle Pond, with the birds and waves, is another.
 
Being chased by a horizon to horizon black shelf cloud on Lake Superior just north of the Pukaskwa River. Never paddled so fast .. sure I was going to die..

We got to the campsite at the mouth of the river just in time as the cloud enveloped us.... in fog.. The caressing fog continued to shroud us for two days.
 
A couple more of several experienced during a more prolonged event:

During the first Yukon River 1000 mile canoe race, from the bow seat on an unusually long straiight stretch of river ahead, I noticed several blsck dots on the horizon. I soon recognized the as fighter jets directly approaching us. F-16s in fact. Special since my son at the time was an F-16 pilot, but he was in Europe at the time. I began waving my paddle overhead. The lead jet waved its wings in return. Just as they reached us they all preformed a "burning climb" with full afterburner, heading straight up vertically over us before rejoining each other many thousands of feet above. After the race I stopped by base opeations at Eielson AFB near Fairbanks to thank them for the show.

Another special moment overcame me near the end of that same race. After a full year of preparation, months of map study, endless training on a paddling machine and on the water with my crew near home, and a week of living togeher while racing on the river, suddenly there was the finish line with our pit crew families wating to greet us, as the Dalton Highway Bridge first came into view a couple of miles away. We had made it, first voyageur canoe to finish the "1000", as my eyes teared up with emotion and thanks.
 
shelf cloud on Lake Superior . . . . the cloud enveloped us.... in fog


I vividly recall driving from Ely, Minnesota in the BWCA, down to Duluth on Lake Superior and entering from above a dense low fog that entirely covered Duluth and the surrounding region. That's when I learned Lake Superior has its own climate system. I badly wanted to paddle somewhere on the south shore of Superior but, driving and probing its entire length over three days, I could never find a place that was other than big, cold crashing waves like an angry ocean.

Thank goodness I crossed into Canada at Sault Ste. Marie and discovered the paddling paradise of Georgian Bay in Lake Huron.
 
It was the end of October 2011 it was archery season in central Mass. where I lived, and I was sitting in my tree stand. It started snowing heavy. At first, I thought it was great with the big wet flakes coming down, no wind, so quiet you could hear the snow falling. After a short while the snowfall became quite intense and the popping started. The popping became actual crashing and I watched as some trees close by started falling. The trees hadn't dropped their leaves yet and they were holding a lot of weight. Getting down from the tree I made my way to a field and stood there listening the forest falling before walking back to my truck.
That storm was given several names "Snowtober", "Octoberblast" are a couple I remember. The destruction around the area was pretty heavy.
 
I've been in earthquakes, seen volcanoes erupt, experienced a major flood, been on glaciers and had close calls with avalanches, moose and came face to face with a grizzly, but these are things that many other people have experienced too.

The most memorable experiences that were more personal to me involved wildlife. On one of my first trips in Ak. 30 years ago I was woken up by the sound of something urinating on my tent. I peeked out and saw that it was a wolf.

Another rare event happened in Pa. a couple years ago while out for a hike. I got attacked by what was probably a rabid raccoon. It was really scarry, the thing came at me three times.

Possibly the weirdest thing that happened to me was when out fishing on a trip in a remote area in Ak. I was floating around far from shore on a medium size lake when two seagulls landed in my boat. It blew me away, I doubt that will ever happen again.
 
Other experiences. Camped on the tiny bit of water called Big Thunder Lake in Algonquin I woke to crashing in the campsite. Peering out the door revealed eight legs visible and the bottom of two bellies. I had been moosed. I waited inside not wanting to scare them into a charge( I worry more about moose than bear as I have been charged by moose here at home) and they did leave eventually. Mom and kid.
Another time I was sitting having breakfast coffee and there was banging on my boat at the shore. About ten seconds later mom moose and kid appeared out of the brush scarcely 10 feet away looked at me and trotted off... Never had a chance to get the camera.

And the alligator I accidentally spooked coming round a hairpin bend on the Hillsborough River.. He jumped right over the bow of my canoe.. Don't know who was more scared but I sure am glad he did not become my boat mate
 
Possibly the weirdest thing that happened to me was when out fishing on a trip in a remote area in Ak. I was floating around far from shore on a medium size lake when two seagulls landed in my boat. It blew me away, I doubt that will ever happen again.

I was a float in a small boat late at night with a friend. We were at opposite ends of the boat facing each other when a large pelican landed on his head. It sat there for 5 or 10 seconds before he tried to reach up for it.
 
I’m not sure if I’m lucky or unlucky with some of these. Or perhaps I find myself in weird situations more often than not. We get the occasional shelf cloud in the middle of summer that brings heavy rain and hail. I find them very cool, but I love a good storm. Saw four waterspouts this past summer, from a distance….. no! Excuse me… last summer now!! These usually came before the storms. Massive 20 footer waves on superior. A few avalanches, not including the resort planned ones, a couple in the backcountry. Ice layers on superior that we have paddled through, mostly waited for them to get pushed out though. Edited**. PPine reminded me of a few things. Northern lights in Alaska, and Michigan. Starlink…. Camped out at a bike trailhead, in a very deep conversation about cryptocurrency/the golden spiral/and Elon Musks starlink. We stepped outside of the camper bus, looked up and saw roughly 8-12 satellites go by in the night sky. Mind blown as to what was happening, especially as we were talking about it at the same exact time. Then as those faded… a trail of 60 plus satellites covered the sky. Life did not seem real and while one friend was still talking crypto.. myself and the other friend couldn’t comprehend that this was actually happening. It’s very trippy to see, and the two of us never heard that was a thing going on.

All memorable but two of my favorites are these. I first moved to Utah when I was about 21, we loved in the mountains of Park City and could hike the summit and ride home. First time we did this, my third day there, we drove to the trailhead early and hiked through dense fog. Once we were close to the summit, we saw the sun shining a bit more. Turned around and realized we were above the clouds. A first for me besides flying. First time ever seeing alpinglow, which is every bit as pretty as they show. Then a helicopter popped up, still below us. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing after growing up in a small town of N. MI.

The other one, not as beautiful, but VERY amazing. An almost 3 month road trip with two close buddies, in a small teardrop trailer. On our way home, avoiding a major storm going across the entire US, we diverted to Memphis. An epic night out on the historical, and wildly ridiculous Beal st. We slept in the parking lot the giant pyramid shaped Bass Pro, under an overpass, looking haggard. Hungover, two of us had this craving for crayfish… don’t ask me why. We mapped a place for coffee and breakfast nearby. As we pulled out of the parking lot, and drove Maybe 2-3 blocks there on the Mississippi River is a crawfish festival!! No joke! Still very much groggy, we feasted on buckets of seasoned crayfish with live music. And it cured the night before

Wish I still had photos of everything I mentioned
 

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Yes. A life outdoors creates opportunity.
Northern Lights.
Sunsets.
Squalls on Chesapeake Bay at night.
Geysers in Yellowstone for 50 years.
Glaciers and ice caves on Mt Rainier.
Surfing 10 foot storm waves at Huntington Beach.
Snorkeling with tidal rips, Moray eels, sharks and rays.
Small tornadoes.
Blizzards in Wyoming.
Working outside in Colorado when the temp was -9 degrees to -40 degrees F for 10 days.
Working with bears every day in Alaska.
Lots of Earthquakes.
Flash floods in many states as a hydrologist.
Waking up in a large herd of elk. Waking up in a flock of turkeys.
 
Is this a shelf cloud ... after days of wicked wind and rain, the sun came out ... and then the next front came rumbling by ... I se a skull in the clouds ... not sure what this is ....
 

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I was solo on Marshall Lake in northwestern Ontario when I encountered this, a shelf cloud, idk. I didn’t know what to expect so I landed on an island and tied my canoe to a tree. It ended up being just a heavy downpour with average wind.

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Does lightening count? First experience was when a lightening bolt hit the chimney of my parents house. It knocked the bricks off the chimney with one crashing through the window of my bedroom about 2 foot from my bed -- being about 9 or 10 at the time it sure woke me up.
Second time around 17 years old I decided to go surfing with a friend Bob Hope (yes that was his real name). The plan was to go to fire island and surf then stealth camp in the dunes. Middle of the night lightening began to strike the tops of nearby dunes. Picture two teenagers trying to dig to China in the sand to get as low as possible.
Side notes: when I told my father I was going to go camping with Bob Hope he had me have Bob come to our house to show him his ID. Must be a Long Island thing as my sister went to school with David Crockett.
 
Lightning in Colorado and New Mexico in the the summer. It often came with hail.
In the mountains it can be a daily occurrence every afternoon around 1600.

We had just got the camp packed up one July morning in Colorado. We were sitting on our mules and horses, with a couple of strings of pack mules when the rain got serious. It is not common for thunder and lightning to start early in the morning. We were trying to ride over the Continental Divide. It was around 9,000 feet and above tree line. We could see the lightning hitting the open ground on the Divide. We had no choice but to wait.

After about an hour the rain, and the thunder and lightning eased up. The animals were nervous from all of the commotion and the footing was slippery. We eased them forward. We made the climb in about 45 minutes, and were headed down the other side into a big protected forested valley. The lightning started up again. We were thankful not to still be up there near the Heavens.
 
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