Camp U-NAH-LI-YA was my favorite place to be as a kid. Every year my dad, my sister, Lizzie, and I would go to Father-Daughter camp. One summer when I was 6 years old, we decided to take a canoe out fishing. It was a classic, sunny, and calm day out on the water. About an hour into our voyage, dark clouds started coming our way.

“Make your way back to campgrounds quick! There’s some weather coming in, and you don’t want to get wet,” said Kai, one of the camp counselors making rounds on his motorboat.

As Kai motored off abruptly to go warn the next canoer in the bay over, he created a large wake which began to rock the canoe. Tackle boxes were open, car keys, glasses, and phones were exposed and not secured safely in the boat. After a couple of seconds of rocking and everyone leaning in opposite directions at the wrong times, the canoe tipped. 

“My phone, my keys, my glasses! They’re all at the bottom of the lake,” exclaimed my dad.

As my dad and I were submerged and treading in 15 feet of water, my sister Lizzie somehow managed to hop and stay on top of the canoe as it log-rolled completely over only getting the bottom half of her body wet. Luckily the counselor was close enough to come and help us get the canoe out of the water and safely back onshore.

“I’m so cold!” I cried, shivering on the canoe making our way back. 

Later that night after hot showers and dinner, we ended up winning the “wettest fisherman award” and a can of spam, so it was all worth it in the end.