"People do it everyday. They talk to themselves. They see themselves as they would like to be. They don't have the courage that you have. To just run with it."
~Tyler Durden~
I will admit it. I talk to myself on the island.....a lot.
After two weeks on the island and lots of kayaking, hiking, sawing, hauling wood, carrying rocks, dragging gear, raking, more kayaking, clearing trails, and machete cutting thickets of the deadliest briar patches you have ever encountered (seriously, if you fell in them you would bleed to death before escaping), my body was torn up......but I had gotten a lot tougher and the island was starting to become comfortable.....plus I was cut like a rock now from all the work. Week 3 turned out to be a week of lots of rest......but it wasn't planned. The water was still flowing strong, and I was still kayaking my front yard as much as possible.
April 18th ~ Journal Entry ~ Day 17
"Men should either be treated generously or destroyed, because they take revenge for slight injuries-for heavy ones they cannot."
~Machiavelli~
Wow! Quite an ironic quote for my life.
"I slid my boat into the river, and ferried over to run "boof laps" off Conception. After some surfing in the approach rapid, I headed downstream above the ledge to stomp out the #1 boof on the river. I spent some time doing laps, and on my third or fourth lap, I pulled into the portage spot. I got out and picked my boat up to carry up the ledge, but when I did my foot slipped on wet algae. I didn't fall, but my foot slipped forward hard and my shin smashed into a pointed rock ledge. I could tell by the sound of my shinbone thumping into the ledge that it was bad, and when I looked down at my left shin, there was a quarter size hole in my leg. I had gashed it open to the bone. "FUCK!"....This isn't what I actually yelled, but it was what I felt inside...we have all been there, I am sure. I could see the lumpy, yellow tissue around the edges of the gash, and the bone was visible in the middle of the hole. Thick, clumpy blood started gurgling out, and when I put river water on it, the blood liquefied, dripping down my leg. My initial thought was that I just cracked my shinbone, but when I put weight on it, it seemed ok. Now my main focus became getting back to camp to clean out the wound. I started hiking up the island next to Conception, but when I did I became dizzy and nauseous from the throbbing pain that set in quickly. I put my boat down and laid down on the rock, knowing it would pass.......then I puked and felt better. (I know. I'm a wus.) After puking, I got up to continue hiking up. I figured if I laid there I would pass out, then someone in the skyscrapers would see me and call river rescue. I wasn't sure how to explain to river rescue why I was sleeping on a rock in the middle of the James with a hole in my leg. When I reached the top of Conception Island I had a decision to make, and my leg was now throbbing. I could paddle across the pool to the Western Tip, avoiding all the rapids but needing to hike the entire island to get to first aid; or I could run the lower half of Deception, risking banging my leg on a bad landing, but allowing me to pull right into camp and first aid........I chose Option B. I got in my boat delicately, turned downstream, and hit my line without injury. (This is a two step Class IV drop with a tough line at the bottom) I ferried across the channel and pulled into the beach below camp. When I got out of my boat, the hull had blood and water mixed together sloshing around in the bottom. I limped up the beach, stripped off all my gear, grabbed the first aid kit, and sat down to start to work.
I looked in the kit, which had been donated to me by a friend, and realized immediately that some improvisation was going to be needed. The kit, which granted, I hadn't previously checked, was about 10 years out of date and missing half its contents. (I have been updated with a quality first aid kit since this accident) The key items I wanted were a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, antiseptic wipes, cue tips, Neosporin and Liquid Skin or Bactin, a butterfly bandage, gauze pads, and an ace bandage for compression since I had already used the ice pack the week before. (I was hot) What I actually had was the ace bandage, gauze pads, antiseptic wipes, liquid skin, and Neosporin. I improvised by using a gauze pad wrapped up to a pointed corner for a cue tip. The lack of Hydrogen Peroxide bothered me, because the wound was deep and had been exposed to river water. Once the wound clotted the peroxide was worthless, and the grit would be trapped under the clot.
Since I knew cleaning the wound ASAP was important to prevent infection or blood poisoning, (I had that once. It sucked) I bit down on a stick and scrubbed the hole out with a bar of soap........this hurt like shit and made it bleed profusely. Once I had finished I cleaned around the wound with antiseptic wipes, and then using the improvised cue tip, mixed liquid skin and Neosporin together and started plopping it into the hole. I knew that without a butterfly bandage, I would need to create a cleanly sealed clot, and the lumpy goo I had formed would help expediate clotting. After a few minutes of working in the Neosporin, the clot formed, and I worked my way around the hole, satisfied to let it heal open. My friend who is a bike messenger stated, "Only bitches get stitches". (those guys are tough bastards) I limped down to the hammock once finished. My leg was now throbbing from the soap scrubbing I had just exposed it to. I collapsed in the hammock and put my leg up as high as I could get it. The throbbing was rhythmically following my heartbeat, and the sound of whitewater quickly lulled my exhausted body to sleep."
I spent the following days using the island as a "vacation spot", simply lying around in the hammock, reading, writing, in my journal, celebrating April 20th :) , and keeping as much weight off my leg as possible. After three days, the swelling was pretty intense and the pain had gotten worse, so I decided to abandon the island for the night and stay with a friend, before seeing a doctor. The doctor took an x-ray and confirmed a crack in my tibia. I was supposed to wear an air cast, but the doc, who knew me well, was aware that I would never follow directions, so he gave me a compression bandage to help keep swelling down when I was walking on it. I did try and follow the principle of R.I.C.E. (Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation), but usually only hit two out of four. The doc did say that the cleaning I endured probably did help expediate the healing process, and blood infection was a legit concern, especially in river water. I was satisfied with the conclusion of the ordeal, and now I have a nice little scar to remind me of the island.
The remainder of Week 3 was spent simply viewing the world that I had created around me, and I started to see some really cool stuff when I slowed down and just became part of the environment. I saw a baby gosling hatch from its egg; kayaked at night under a full moon and under the light pollution of the city; and became an amateur ornithologist on the Friday evening that thunderstorms hit RVa. This next journal entry was written as the front approached the city.
~April 20th~Journal Entry~Day 19
(All pictures taken by me last summer on the James)
"We do not understand when the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses are tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with scent of many men, and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires. Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone. The end of living and the beginning of survival."
~Anonymous Native American quote~
"While sitting at the garden, the full magic of the island revealed itself. Without warning, two large birds buzzed overhead, just above the tree line. I immediately knew by their speed and size that they were Bald Eagles. They circled around the Eastern End of the island and raced back up river towards the Middle Lines. I gimped my way back up the trail as quickly as possible to Northern Camp. When I reached the lookout point, I was in awe. There in front of me, The Middle Lines thundered down, the cityscape guarded the river, and the dark clouds from the approaching front mixed into swirls of blue, grey, green, yellow, and pink. This was my back drop as I watched the two eagles frolick and play in the wind currents, swooping and diving amongst each other over the river like two dog fighting F-sixteens (broken key). I worked my way down slowly to War Cry Rock and stood up, marveling at the sight of the Eagles. (I had seen Bald Eagles hundreds of times before on the river, but never playing like this.)
Their agility and speed was amazing, made ever more remarkable by the howling and unpredictable winds. (or so I thought. Last nights winds were much worse...Holy Shit, that was a crazy storm!) The Eagles had an amazing ability to cut hard corners at high rates of speed. As they chased each other, the Eagle out front would dive at a phenomanel rate of speed, then cut right and back left, sharply and cleanly, catching the wind currents as it dove. The pursuing Eagle would mirror every move, as if performing a synchronized air ballet against the currents of the storm front. For nearly 10 minutes this performance went on, and as I watched I wished so much for Marlow and Quint to be there by my side to share the moment. I took in every second, so I could one day tell them about the amazing sight. Then, without warning, a flash of lightning broke the scene, followed by a crack of thunder. As quickly as the performance had begun, it ended even more abruptly. I looked up to find the Eagles again, but they were gone, like ghosts of the Middle Lines."
I have begun to refer to these experiences as Island Magic. The island has a way of revealing its true mystical and surreal powers at the times I least expect them. This was one of those times. I consider myself very lucky to be able to see the things I have seen in the past forty seven days, and I long for the chance to sit down and tell my boys all about them.
If you have the weekend free, GO TO RIVERROCK!!! GO TO RIVERROCK!!! It is the coolest festival of the year. I hope to see everyone out there, and look for an additional blog post coming up titled, "The Dumb Ass Sittin' on the Log"..... It's a good one. See ya on the rivah!
P.S. Miss you M & Q. Miss you guys more than you will ever know.
