~Tallman-Boatertalk~
Week 18 ended up being all about one thing on the river........Open Boating. Now, I may have lost my kids, my house, my money, my possessions, all my dignity and self worth, and my overall way of life in my divorce............but I still have her Ocoee. If you take out the kids from that list, I think it is a pretty fair trade. (I know that quote just won me the hearts of every single blade fanatic who reads this) For those of you who are not paddlers, open boating is canoeing on whitewater. Open boats have a lot more rocker on their hulls, and they require inflatable air bags to keep water out. They are also cut shorter (my Ocoee is 10.5 feet) You are also sitting on your knees instead of your butt, and obviously use a canoe paddle instead of a kayak paddle, hence the term "single blade". Here is a pic of me in Pipeline in my Ocoee, otherwise known as my new favorite boat. (Pink is still closest to my heart though. She is just hurtin' these days)
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| Photo by: Rich Young |
As you can see, my canoe is held together with duct tape and a prayer, which is what makes it so bad ass. It has been creekin', surfin', big water stompin', and every other thing in between, and it is tried and tested to be a proven beast. I am loving paddling it and can't wait to get it up to West 'By God'.
Open Boating has a deep and rich history in paddling. It is the truest form of whitewater paddling. Stroke development in all other paddle sport is based off of the original strokes designed for canoeing. In WNC, the kayak camps make kids learn to paddle a canoe before they are ever allowed to even sit in a kayak...........that is a true teaching technique if I have ever seen one. I taught myself a proper draw stroke after taking the ACA course and realizing I sucked at kayaking. (this was five years ago) I developed the technique of my draw stroke for years. When I first pulled a draw stroke in a canoe, I understood why open boating is so addictive. Whenever I am on the Gauley or New, or paddling a creek and see an open boater style a rapid or surf a hole, he has my respect, because it is damn hard to do, much more so than kayaking, but when you lace a rapid in a canoe, damn does it feel sweet! I am looking forward to the new world I am having the chance to discover in my paddling career, and can't wait to take my skills to bigger rivers.............But no matter how diversified I become in my time on the water, I will always stand strong in one belief..........SUPing sucks, and it always will!!!!!!!! (that last part was for all the stand up paddlers out there. You all know it is the truth. Please Stand Up Paddle Boarders, go back to the lakes. You do not belong on whitewater. Edging people. It is all about edging, and you guys don't have them!......additionally, a beautiful woman paddling an Open Boat is so much sexier than watching a beautiful woman eat shit on a SUP....it just is.) And for those SUPers who want to bitch and whine and say "don't knock it till you try it"..............see below.
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| Photo by: Rich Young |
Yes, this is me kicking the shit out of everyone at Dominion Riverrock. This is also still the only day I have ever stood on a SUP, and the only day I ever will.
My goal for the remainder of this year is to have my Open Boat on the Lower Gauley by the end of Gauley season. Paddling it everyday to and from and around The Island will help a great deal, but I am thinking that the real way to step up my Open Boating skills is to hit the NRG.........maybe that will happen. We shall see.
"it was fast, it was out of control, and it hurt."
~Hipgrave-Boatertalk~
That quote has absolutely nothing to do with anything in this post, but it is such a great quote I had to use it. It is also from Boatertalk, which is the grassroots online communication board of whitewater paddling. It is full of great quotes from true, everyday, no name kayakers just like me, in the trenches of everyday life as river bums. It is as deep in the culture of kayaking as you can get online, and it is easy to become lost in the world of Boatertalk for hours. If you ever want to climb into the mind of a kayaker, check it out.
Week 18 ended with a little Island vacation. When I vacation from The Island I find myself wanting to stay indoors. I guess that makes sense. It isn't that I don't love the outdoors. I live in it. Obviously that is not the case. It is just that a vacation, in a way, is a break from your own reality. Well, if that is the case, then domestication is my break from reality, and in turn is my vacation. Funny how that works.
"I just blew a ferry."
~p1pn8ez-Boatertalk~
I am now taking tonight's quotes one step further. They are all being stolen from Boatertalk and they will probably all have nothing to do with anything being discussed........but c'mon, that last one was pretty damn funny, and yes, I am that immature. And if you don't get it, deal with your stupidity alone. Don't ask someone to explain it.
Week 19 was the lead up to my birthday, and although I am completely broke and homeless, I knew somehow adventure would find me, and I was right. On Tuesday evening I paddled down to The Island on an absolutely glorious evening. The sun was setting and the light against the rocks of The Middle Lines glowed off the late summer landscape. As I approached the entrance to a low water Triple Drop I noticed a thin line of smoke rising up from the rock island between triple drop and LuLu. Then I noticed a man standing on the rocks watching me approach. This was the closest I had ever seen a non paddler get to The Island (although he was still cut off by a fast moving Class III rapid) so I decided to talk with him. He said he had come out to camp and made his way to that spot, and I told him he was welcome to swim across the channel and join me at camp for dinner.
"You've got to be tough to be stupid."
~Brabec-Boatertalk~
I paddled down to camp and built a fire and started dinner. I told the "dude from the rocks" to swim across the top of the channel above Triple Drop and walk the entire way down the trail to camp, so I knew it would take him about fifteen minutes. After about 20 minutes or so, the dude from the rocks wandered down the trail looking rather perplexed by the world he had just entered. I properly introduced myself, and we sat on the hillside discussing The Island, The Rivah, and the lives we were both drifting through. He was a young college kid and told me he was a "rock crawler", which I pretended to understand, but in reality I thought he was bat shit crazy. Then he told me he had taken three hits of acid earlier in the day, which clearly explained so many things that had confused me over the first hour of the conversation. I thought about what he had just told me, and then finally responded with.........."dude, I don't think this is the best environment to place yourself in after dropping three hits of acid." It was all I could think of to tell him. I just know I wouldn't be ok stuck in the middle of a whitewater river environment, alone, on three hits of acid........I mean, would you?
The rest of the evening was spent being entertained by stories of a dude on acid. We drank Absinthe, gave war cries at midnight, and danced around the fire (and no, I was not on acid too), and then I went to bed. The dude from the rocks told me he was just going to sit out and watch the city for the night. I told him to enjoy, because solo time on The Island was a special thing.
When I awoke the next morning for work, the dude from the rocks was gone. There was no sign of him anywhere. Apparently the acid wore off, or he found some rocks to crawl, or decided to body surf Triple Drop (he had told me the night before that he wanted to do that.......I tried to explain that it was not the best idea, but I don't think he was listening) Whatever happened, he had vanished without a trace, like another ghost of The Middle Lines. It was just another unique experience in life on The Island. So to the dude from the rocks, "good luck bro, in whatever adventures you find."
"If all else fails, paddle like hell."
~John Heffernan~
The end of the week brought the arrival of my thirty-fifth birthday............son of a bitch am I old! That is half way to seventy. Well I don't feel like it (or at least I didn't until I blew out my back), and I responded to someone earlier in the week that asked me how old I was by saying, "I'm 35 in body, 12 in spirit, and 21 in maturity given the activity." That speaks a lot of truth in just a few words.
The way I saw things on my birthday was like this..........a man can do whatever he wishes on his birthday without having to worry about being judged for his actions. With that being said, there was only one destination worthy of the occasion.......Strip Club! Hell yea, 'Merica!...........(to be continued)
"If the earth were flat, I'd paddle off the edge."
~Dinver McClure~
"Stay off those logs"
~Justin Harris~
