I've been enjoying PaddlingPitt's latest TR, in which he ends up on a wilderness trip with a couple he didn't really know. It reminded me of tripping with a fellow I'll call Jim. He became a problem. In retrospect, it is amusing. Perhaps others have amusing stories they'll share, too.
First, let me say that I've been on a few trips with folks I didn't well know. Somehow, I've been lucky, and they were great people. But, then there was Jim.
Jim was a long lost paddling friend of Willi's, and they reunited on this trip on the Suwanee River, making us a party of five. We launched from Griff's fish camp. Steve and I were in the Tripper, Willi was solo in, I think, a Penobscot , Al paddled his kayak, and Jim was solo in an OT Tripper. Jim loaded his boat and then loaded it some more. He had more gear in his Tripper than Steve and I, combined, in my Tripper. We later learned he packed a huge amount of water, and his boat was riding low. Jim also was riding low, almost laying down in the boat--bad back, he said. Every so often, he'd take a weak paddle stroke, and sitting so low, his stroke was nearly horizontal. Needless to say, he was slow, and we were soon waiting for him.
We made poor progress, which resulted in poor campsite selection. Jim carried his gear way off from the river and set up in the middle of a dirt road. Apparently, among his huge gear load he'd packed a radio, which he proceed to turn on and play. We couldn't hear it, but to a hog hunter in a tree stand, it was the last straw. Said hunter had paid a land renter (not owner) to sit in that tree stand, and we soon met them both. We were told to pack up and depart. It was now dusk. The water was high enough that we'd had a hard time picking out the channel among the trees, and the thought of going looking for another sight in the dark wasn't appealing to me. I asked, what we could do to make things right. The answer was quick: $150. We paid. The renter took our money and handed it to the hunter. They came to visit in the morning and it turns out the renter took the hunter to another tree stand and he bagged his hog. A hog and $150 in his pocket. We were all best friends at that point.
Jim shoved off ahead of us, but we soon caught up. I think Willi or Al stayed with Jim. Steve and I paddled ahead. Except for being so slow that we speculated the vultures we could see circling behind us were looking at Jim and thinking "dinner," we had no issues the second day and night. The following night we stayed at Florida's Stephen C Foster park (not to be confused with SCF Park in Georgia, above Fargo--two parks and Foster never even saw the Suwanee). We were joined at this point by a larger group of Willi's kayaking pals, and the lot of us set off the next morning downriver of Big Shoals.
Next stop was to be Holton Creek River Camp. Despite leaving way ahead of us, Jim ended up behind, again. The Camp was well marked and unmistakeable, especially since all our boats were visible from the river.. Jim passed it by and solo camped on a river bank a mile or two downstream. He hadn't said anything to anybody. He just took a flyer on his own. At some point, we found Jim. The Suwanee River Wilderness Trail parallels the river. Members of our group went hiking and found Jim. We had cell coverage, but had not received a call. The next day, the group decided to stay put due to a forecast of strong storms. Somebody phoned Jim and let him know.
A day later, the same thing happened. Jim started early, we all passed him, and then he passed our campsite and continued downriver, not saying anything to anybody. And, in the morning, another forecast of strong storms caused the group to quit the river. We took out at Suwanee River State Park and arranged rides back to White Springs, except for Jim. He was somewhere downriver of the Witlahoochie. Willi had to go pick him up somewhere the next day and reported there wasn't much conversation on the ride home.
Now, I'm a little more circumspect about paddling compadres. I went on an 8-day canoe trip on the Missouri last fall with a woman I barely knew. I'd kayaked with her twice. We talked about our tripping personas ahead of the trip and we both thought and hoped we'd get along, but acknowledged the alternative: it'll be a looong dang trip. I think that conversation helped in that we were both attentive to interpersonal communication and got along like life-long pals. Great trip, btw.
First, let me say that I've been on a few trips with folks I didn't well know. Somehow, I've been lucky, and they were great people. But, then there was Jim.
Jim was a long lost paddling friend of Willi's, and they reunited on this trip on the Suwanee River, making us a party of five. We launched from Griff's fish camp. Steve and I were in the Tripper, Willi was solo in, I think, a Penobscot , Al paddled his kayak, and Jim was solo in an OT Tripper. Jim loaded his boat and then loaded it some more. He had more gear in his Tripper than Steve and I, combined, in my Tripper. We later learned he packed a huge amount of water, and his boat was riding low. Jim also was riding low, almost laying down in the boat--bad back, he said. Every so often, he'd take a weak paddle stroke, and sitting so low, his stroke was nearly horizontal. Needless to say, he was slow, and we were soon waiting for him.
We made poor progress, which resulted in poor campsite selection. Jim carried his gear way off from the river and set up in the middle of a dirt road. Apparently, among his huge gear load he'd packed a radio, which he proceed to turn on and play. We couldn't hear it, but to a hog hunter in a tree stand, it was the last straw. Said hunter had paid a land renter (not owner) to sit in that tree stand, and we soon met them both. We were told to pack up and depart. It was now dusk. The water was high enough that we'd had a hard time picking out the channel among the trees, and the thought of going looking for another sight in the dark wasn't appealing to me. I asked, what we could do to make things right. The answer was quick: $150. We paid. The renter took our money and handed it to the hunter. They came to visit in the morning and it turns out the renter took the hunter to another tree stand and he bagged his hog. A hog and $150 in his pocket. We were all best friends at that point.
Jim shoved off ahead of us, but we soon caught up. I think Willi or Al stayed with Jim. Steve and I paddled ahead. Except for being so slow that we speculated the vultures we could see circling behind us were looking at Jim and thinking "dinner," we had no issues the second day and night. The following night we stayed at Florida's Stephen C Foster park (not to be confused with SCF Park in Georgia, above Fargo--two parks and Foster never even saw the Suwanee). We were joined at this point by a larger group of Willi's kayaking pals, and the lot of us set off the next morning downriver of Big Shoals.
Next stop was to be Holton Creek River Camp. Despite leaving way ahead of us, Jim ended up behind, again. The Camp was well marked and unmistakeable, especially since all our boats were visible from the river.. Jim passed it by and solo camped on a river bank a mile or two downstream. He hadn't said anything to anybody. He just took a flyer on his own. At some point, we found Jim. The Suwanee River Wilderness Trail parallels the river. Members of our group went hiking and found Jim. We had cell coverage, but had not received a call. The next day, the group decided to stay put due to a forecast of strong storms. Somebody phoned Jim and let him know.
A day later, the same thing happened. Jim started early, we all passed him, and then he passed our campsite and continued downriver, not saying anything to anybody. And, in the morning, another forecast of strong storms caused the group to quit the river. We took out at Suwanee River State Park and arranged rides back to White Springs, except for Jim. He was somewhere downriver of the Witlahoochie. Willi had to go pick him up somewhere the next day and reported there wasn't much conversation on the ride home.
Now, I'm a little more circumspect about paddling compadres. I went on an 8-day canoe trip on the Missouri last fall with a woman I barely knew. I'd kayaked with her twice. We talked about our tripping personas ahead of the trip and we both thought and hoped we'd get along, but acknowledged the alternative: it'll be a looong dang trip. I think that conversation helped in that we were both attentive to interpersonal communication and got along like life-long pals. Great trip, btw.