text: After a hard paddle and a fair amount of coordination, we made our way out of the wind and on to the little river. We handled the short lift-over quickly and efficiently – my team never fails to impress me. It wasn’t until we made our way into Stratton that things got really hairy.
  As we passed under the railway bridge that marks the start of Stratton Lake, Long looked back up in the sky and motioned for us to have a look. The blue sky above us, punctuated by the occasional fluffy cloud, was being rapidly overtaken by a dark menacing line of grey cloud – like a blanket being pulled over the sky. I yelled out to the other canoes to get close to the left shore “just in case”. Everyone quickly complied and we took up the rear on the race over to the bank.