I didn’t include this in the original trip report last Fall, as it was a little embarrassing, but thinking back yesterday I got a chuckle out of it and thought I’d share it after all.
Kind of hard to tell in the below photo, but the gravel bar we had stopped at was somewhat steep:
One might even say deceptively steep. It doesn’t look too bad, right? A little steeper than normal maybe, but still not a bad spot to stop. Ample shade, a spring branch entering the main river just upstream, a spacious gravel bar, what’s not to like? I took the opportunity to snap a few pictures of my new canoe before lunch. My first gel coated boat, and a looker for sure. A little bit more fragile than some other layups maybe, but beautiful and great glide in the water. Just maybe avoid the bigger rocks.
I’ve been paddling with Dad for 28 years, since I was 8 years old. We’ve put a lot of miles on these rivers and have some great memories and stories. This day though, wasn’t our best. Dad had flipped his canoe about 20 minutes after starting out, something he hadn’t done in at least 15 years. We had recovered everything and had a good morning otherwise, but an unusual day nonetheless. We had stopped for lunch right past a beautiful spring branch, having seen this large gravel bar a ways off. It was taller than most, and had a nice flat spot at the top under some trees with a great view of the river. We had stopped, I’d taken my photos, and we climbed up to the top for some lunch. Turns out I’d forgotten my chair (not our day, remember?), but I found a pretty uncomfortable downed log to perch on awkwardly, as it was a bit too low for me. Dad and I reminisced on the morning’s happenings, and remarked on how scenic our surroundings were, you know, the usual. Now as we chatted, Dad had moved his chair around to face me, while I was sat on my log facing the river. I had started to daydream a bit, and he was still talking about something. Very important I’m sure. As I was lost in thought it occurred to me that something large was floating down the river behind Dad, as it had just appeared behind his left shoulder a couple seconds before. Suddenly it dawned on me that this something WAS MY NEW CANOE!!! Floating DOWN the river, ON ITS OWN!!!
I was off my log and hurtling down the hill at literal breakneck speed approximately 0.1 seconds later.
Now I’m not a professional athlete. I played sports in high school, football, soccer, etc, and I was pretty decent, but that was 18 years ago. I ain’t as good as I once was, as they say. But this day, with my new canoe floating gracefully downriver (UN-EFFING-MANNED), you’d have thought I was hoping to qualify a new record at the NFL combine.
I fleetingly heard Dad utter something along the lines of “uh, is everything ok?”, as I showered him with kicked up gravel. The rushing of air past my head drowned out any further comments. I have never moved that fast in my existence up to that point. I was a cheetah on the African savannah. I was Lightning McQueen. I was speed. Thoughts of my new gel coated boat wrapped around a rock downstream flashed through my brain. And I REALLY didn’t want to swim and wade the next 5 miles to the takeout. I hit the water like a grizzly charging. Adrenaline raged through me as I power swam across the channel, life jacket left forgotten by my hastily discarded lunch, the cold from the spring branch constricting my blood vessels. I battled the current like Poseidon himself. I passed an otter chasing a smallmouth (I’m pretty sure). Finally, I caught the boat with one hand and breached like an orca at Seaworld, grabbing the bow line I’d left tied on inside with the other. Then I fought my way back across the river, towing the boat along behind me. This took slightly longer than the trip out. Dragging the boat across the current while trying not to be flushed downstream with only one hand free took some doing. Did I mention I forgot my life jacket like an idiot? When I’d finally hauled it out of the river, sopping wet in my clothes, and certain it wouldn’t slide back in, I collapsed on my back in the gravel, the adrenaline draining out of me, fighting to catch my breath from the sudden non stop exertion.
Dad was still just making it down the last part of the hill. When he arrived he stood next to me taking it all in. Between sucking air I choked out, “coulda used some help there….”. He took the last bite of his sandwich, shrugged, and said, “you looked like you had it under control”.
Kind of hard to tell in the below photo, but the gravel bar we had stopped at was somewhat steep:
One might even say deceptively steep. It doesn’t look too bad, right? A little steeper than normal maybe, but still not a bad spot to stop. Ample shade, a spring branch entering the main river just upstream, a spacious gravel bar, what’s not to like? I took the opportunity to snap a few pictures of my new canoe before lunch. My first gel coated boat, and a looker for sure. A little bit more fragile than some other layups maybe, but beautiful and great glide in the water. Just maybe avoid the bigger rocks.
I’ve been paddling with Dad for 28 years, since I was 8 years old. We’ve put a lot of miles on these rivers and have some great memories and stories. This day though, wasn’t our best. Dad had flipped his canoe about 20 minutes after starting out, something he hadn’t done in at least 15 years. We had recovered everything and had a good morning otherwise, but an unusual day nonetheless. We had stopped for lunch right past a beautiful spring branch, having seen this large gravel bar a ways off. It was taller than most, and had a nice flat spot at the top under some trees with a great view of the river. We had stopped, I’d taken my photos, and we climbed up to the top for some lunch. Turns out I’d forgotten my chair (not our day, remember?), but I found a pretty uncomfortable downed log to perch on awkwardly, as it was a bit too low for me. Dad and I reminisced on the morning’s happenings, and remarked on how scenic our surroundings were, you know, the usual. Now as we chatted, Dad had moved his chair around to face me, while I was sat on my log facing the river. I had started to daydream a bit, and he was still talking about something. Very important I’m sure. As I was lost in thought it occurred to me that something large was floating down the river behind Dad, as it had just appeared behind his left shoulder a couple seconds before. Suddenly it dawned on me that this something WAS MY NEW CANOE!!! Floating DOWN the river, ON ITS OWN!!!
I was off my log and hurtling down the hill at literal breakneck speed approximately 0.1 seconds later.
Now I’m not a professional athlete. I played sports in high school, football, soccer, etc, and I was pretty decent, but that was 18 years ago. I ain’t as good as I once was, as they say. But this day, with my new canoe floating gracefully downriver (UN-EFFING-MANNED), you’d have thought I was hoping to qualify a new record at the NFL combine.
I fleetingly heard Dad utter something along the lines of “uh, is everything ok?”, as I showered him with kicked up gravel. The rushing of air past my head drowned out any further comments. I have never moved that fast in my existence up to that point. I was a cheetah on the African savannah. I was Lightning McQueen. I was speed. Thoughts of my new gel coated boat wrapped around a rock downstream flashed through my brain. And I REALLY didn’t want to swim and wade the next 5 miles to the takeout. I hit the water like a grizzly charging. Adrenaline raged through me as I power swam across the channel, life jacket left forgotten by my hastily discarded lunch, the cold from the spring branch constricting my blood vessels. I battled the current like Poseidon himself. I passed an otter chasing a smallmouth (I’m pretty sure). Finally, I caught the boat with one hand and breached like an orca at Seaworld, grabbing the bow line I’d left tied on inside with the other. Then I fought my way back across the river, towing the boat along behind me. This took slightly longer than the trip out. Dragging the boat across the current while trying not to be flushed downstream with only one hand free took some doing. Did I mention I forgot my life jacket like an idiot? When I’d finally hauled it out of the river, sopping wet in my clothes, and certain it wouldn’t slide back in, I collapsed on my back in the gravel, the adrenaline draining out of me, fighting to catch my breath from the sudden non stop exertion.
Dad was still just making it down the last part of the hill. When he arrived he stood next to me taking it all in. Between sucking air I choked out, “coulda used some help there….”. He took the last bite of his sandwich, shrugged, and said, “you looked like you had it under control”.
