I ate my SUP'r............and my words

 

   After spending four days traveling the Virginia's with a kayak, I learned something important..................karma reigns true for us all.  There is a story to be told, and it is one that will make the SUP Nation fwaap with delight.  So without further delay, let's get it on...................Welcome to the Thunderdome bitches!  This one is going to be some TRUTH!


“To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.”
                 ~Criss Jami~

   Spring has sprung and the paddling season is upon us.  I was jonesing badly for some steepness this past weekend and was excited about the four days of nomadic Dirt Baggin' bliss that was upon me.  My weekend started with an afternoon jaunt down the local Jimmy here in RVA.  It included a rather comical afternoon of observing the bandwagon hide from me in eddies, as well as a sighting of a much more plump version of what was once The Fourteenth Street Whore..............but that story will come next week.  

   After my afternoon on the James I headed west for a Sunday run on a low water Goshen Pass.  Believe it or not, after a decade of Virginia kayaking, I had never hit up the Maury.  I am not sure how this happened, but somehow I had always overlooked it.  Every time I headed that way, it was either to paddle Nelson County or continue over the mountains all the way to the bliss of West By God.  But on this day, Goshen and I would finally pop each others cherries..................I just had no idea that she was about to make me her bitch.
   I arrived at the takeout to find the infamous 434/540 crowd gearing up and prepping to roll out for Goshen laps.  After the normal bull shitting and a quick car ride to the top, we found ourselves at the put-in, under beautiful sunny skies, ready to drop in with a rather sizable group......................a group that included, yep, you guessed it, a down rivah SUP'r.  Irony was already rearing it's ugly head.       

   When you are a friend of The IC and you end up in the story line, I give you the ability to choose your own name or go by your original.  (I do this because I don't blame anyone who doesn't want to be named in here.  Some of this shit is the REAL deal.  I know that.)  Names like The Dude, The Man, Buzz Holstrom, and The Fourteenth Street Whore...............ok, that last one is not TRUTH.  I picked her name for her.  Actually it just happened one day, but I digressed.  The point is, The IC picked up a new character this past weekend, and he goes by the name of CrazyCBoater.  Crazy was already thoroughly enjoying the fact that a SUP'r showed up, and being an avid reader of The IC, happily invited him along to join the crew...............why don't you just go ahead and throw those logs on that blazing fire for me!  Thanks buddy.  :)
   We put on and floated downstream into the depths of Goshen Pass.  We approached the first ledge of the day, which is literally the very first rapid.  It has a simple slot moving from left to right that shoots over a four foot ledge.  From the top, it is simply a horizon line, so I was dependent upon Crazy, my fellow Dirt Bag Royal, to explain the line.  He told me there was a nice little challenge on the left side of the ledge.  He said boof as hard left as you can.  When you land you will be between a rock and the hole.  Tightly squeeze out the left side and you're good to go..............easy enough.  Something tells me you already know where this story is going.
   I sat in the eddy above the drop and watched a few boats run the normal line.  Then I observed my new SUPing buddy style the main line with ease.  (he still looked like he was taking a dump standing up as he did it........just sayin')  My thoughts on this were, "well if a SUP can run the drop then I can pretty much do whatever I want".................so I decided to run the left boof and style the slot move to start the day.
 

“Humility is, in a sense, admitting how egotistical you are.”
                                               ~Criss Jami~

   I gained plenty of speed and planted a hard right handed boof stroke to propel me over the lip of the drop and force me left.  As I came over the drop I saw the rock in the landing zone, followed by the realization that I was about to land in a swirling eddy feeding directly back into the pour over I was boofing away from...................damn it!  I knew what was about to happen.  I landed in the eddy, bounced off the rock, spun around into the hole, and immediately went into a side surf.  It was about this time I realized the hole was actually extremely concave................which for all the non-boaters reading this, that is NOT a good thing for someone in my situation.  Within a matter of seconds I was flipped over and pulled deeper into the pocket of the hole.  I braced for a moment before realizing the inevitable was about to happen....................I was about to swim.............the very first drop of Goshen.....................at low water.......................in front of a SUP'r......................that just styled the drop................the day after I completely trashed SUP.  Like I said, this post is TRUTH, so enjoy fella's, cause I just ate my mother fuckin' words!  I will give the Haters a moment to display their end zone dances.


"There is no indigestion worse then that which comes from having to eat your own words."

                                                                                         ~Anonymous~

   I had worn a bungee skirt for the rivah that day, so I didn't even need to pull.  I just popped straight out of my kayak, stood up, basically still in the hole because the water was so low, grabbed my boat, and peered above the drop at Crazy................who was now literally laughing his ass off.  The sight of him laughing at me made me start laughing, followed by cursing him for the WALLACE I just received.  (although it was completely my fault, I blame Crazy.  My instincts tell me I was set up for a classic WALLACING. If so, well played sir)  I scraped my pride off the rocks, emptied my boat, and was on my way, with a lesson in humility to help me through the day.......................you have no idea how painful all of that was to write.

   The remainder of the day was pure bliss.  I don't know how I missed Goshen all these years, but that will no longer be the case.  (I just heard half the 434/540 yell "damn it!")  CrazyCBoater showed me down the left side of Devils Kitchen, which had some surprisingly nice drops and good steepness to it, and there were an astonishingly high number of quality boofs.  Given the fact that I had prepared myself for low water and had always thought that Goshen was the same level of whitewater as the James, I was extremely impressed with the quality of whitewater, the quality of scenery, and the quality of people that Goshen possessed.  The lesson to be learned here is never judge a book by it's cover.  All whitewater is good whitewater.  I am already looking forward to my next trip to Goshen, one that will hopefully NOT include the worlds most humiliating WALLACE.

“Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness. How do you know this is the experience you need? Because this is the experience you are having at the moment.”
                                                                          ~Eckhart Tolle~

   I believe in rivah karma, and I certainly believe that there are Rivah Gods who become very upset when you don't follow the laws of boating.  (which reminds me, I still owe a booty beer for this weekends WALLACE.  Hell, I owe a booty pitcher for that shit show)  Rivah Karma is a strong power that I have experienced in many ways over the last few years.  For instance, last summer I moved to The Island in April, and when I did it started to rain................and it didn't stop for almost five months.  The lines in front of The Island only run when the James is crankin'.  The James cranked out all summer! Everyone in RVA will agree that it was the best water summer we have seen in over a decade.  I truly believe that it was rivah karma that gave me the gift of that rain, and I soaked up every moment of it.  It is an experience I will cherish for the remainder of my life.  

   Sometimes rivah karma works against you.  By the time I moved to The Island I was finished fucking around with The Fourteenth Street Whores bull shit (a story that will come in the future), and actually did something that I feel horrible about now................I started saying to myself, "the rivah will one day give her what she deserves."  Not a week later, I received a report from Prado telling me that she was pummeled in the pour over at Fish Ladders and he thought she was going to drown.  Then a few days later Colt tells me that he watched her almost become sucked under the undercut rock in Devils Kitchen.  He described that one as an epic shit show.  I found it ironic, and a bit weird..................then her boat was stolen.  Three coincidences are a bit hard to justify.  I actually started worrying that I had cursed her and she was destined to drown on the rivah.  Now I may despise the very existence of The Fourteenth Street Whore, but I would never wish that she or anyone else drown on the rivah. NEVER!...................I doubt she would say the same about me.  I felt so bad I actually apologized to the Rivah Gods for what I was thinking.  The next week The Dumb Ass on the Log found her boat, and I no longer heard epic shit show stories about her ultimate demise.  Rivah karma once again proved it's existence.

   Now the most obvious example of rivah karma..................I talk A LOT of shit about SUP.  I don't find it a coincidence that I ran into a SUP the day after that post, and I do not find it a coincidence that I swam an easy drop at low water in front of a SUP who was still standing at the bottom of the drop.  It was rivah karma.  

   Finally, rivah karma existed in two ways at Goshen on Saturday.  The rivah wasn't concerned with my SUP shit talking.............she was offended that I chose to skip her in my progression of Virginia whitewater.  So she decided to serve up a slap in the face to remind me that it is she, and not us, who controls the outcome in the end.  Lesson learned.  

"Seems you can't outsmart Mother Nature."
                            ~Mark Hyman~


   So what did I learn from this oh so humbling experience?  First off, when you talk as much shit as I do, eventually you are bound to eat a little, and on Saturday, I ate shit.  No doubt there.  I had it coming, and everyone from D.J. to Crazy told me I deserved it, and without a doubt I did.  I have no problem accepting that.  Besides, in the end it was funny as hell and I always enjoy a swim that is more comical than scary.  Second off, I learned that Butt Hurt SUP'rs can make me $100.00 richer............How is that you might ask?  I bet a friend $100.00 that I could prove without a doubt that SUP'rs were the most Butt Hurt members of the paddling community.  The terms of the bet were that I write a post that could create enough bitching and whining to demonstrate just how important it is for SUP'rs to defend their own sport....................thank you to all who participated.  I have enjoyed my money.  My buddy agreed that there was more than enough evidence produced to warrant my claim about the Butt Hurt Nation of SUPing.............of course, now my buddy feels that I should spend the hundred bucks on him.  What are friends for..............too bad that money already has a destination, and it would be in the form of some safety gear, because after all, you can never be too safe on the rivah................or in life.  Know what I mean? 
   The most interesting part about the bet is that I thought the post was so outlandish people would obviously take it as a joke.  I mean, c'mon guys.  Out of the ten reasons, only two were actually logical, well thought out arguments.  The rest were nothing more than me having way too much fun with my writing after a prolonged safety meeting.  I did feel that the Simpsons reference was one step from brilliant, and I do feel the Anvil deserves some serious respect in the whitewater community..................but c'mon.  How could you have taken that post as serious as you all did?  I had people de-friend me over that bull shit write up.  (Adios by the way.  Don't let the door hit you on the way out)  And the write up wasn't even very well written.  It was rushed.  And it was rushed because I wanted to go kayaking at the time, which in my opinion is probably the best and only reason there could ever be for shitty writing.  (and the reason I was laying at the put-in on Saturday scaring the hell out of the Bandwagon..  I was exhausted because I had just finished writing)  But in the end, y'all took it seriously, and provided some great laughs along the way.  So as I have said all along to the SUP Nation................lighten up.  Y'all take yourselves WAY too seriously.  



"Do not take life too seriously. You will never get out of it alive."
                                       ~Elbert Hubbard~


   The irony of the entire SUP write up, dose of Goshen humble pie, and of the bet is how the remainder of the weekend played out.  The details of the trip will be revealed in a future post titled "Four Days of Dirt Baggin'", but there was another ironic coincidence that took place.  On Monday evening the great Buzz Holstrom and I cruised down the deep hollers of West By God and found park and play access to Canyon Doors on the Gauley.  We spent the evening surfing up a beautiful low water hole at the top of Canyon Doors, and we did it with a SUP legend.  Yet another surreal whitewater experience.  A perfect surf wave, 200 foot cliffs towering overhead, warm weather, good people, and a legendary kayaking spot with not a soul in sight for miles.  Truly an epic experience.   Ranger Randy joined the session, and it was a pleasure to hang with him for the evening.  Ranger Randy is an avid rivah surfer, and had brought a Corran Addison designed Rivah Board on this night to shred the hole.  The fact that he was even able to make it up on the board while in the hole was a miracle to me, but I was truly impressed by the skill he demonstrated......................he was also one hell of a nice guy.  I couldn't have asked for a better rivah experience for the evening.
   The following day Buzz and I had yet another rivah legend over to the cabin for the day.  Surfin' Steve, AKA Squirtin' Steve dropped in for a visit, and we enjoyed an afternoon of bull shitting and renovation work while an April snowstorm commenced outside.  Steve-O is another legend of the whitewater community, and is most well known for his Board Surfing at the Perfect Wave.  We spent the afternoon around the wood stove telling rivah stories and saying our farewells to the legend.  Steve-O is off to Florida to pursue the warm waves of the Atlantic, the sunset views from his condo, and the beach life every man should experience at some point in life.  Good luck Steve-O.  I am humbled to have had the honor to meet you this year and know you will find the perfection in life you always exhibit with such grace.  Thank you for showing me the TRUTH of whitewater.  
   I tell these two stories because of how well it exemplifies the TRUTH about who I really am.  I spoke with both Randy and Steve-O about what I had written and gave my thoughts on the sport of SUP and progression within the whitewater world.  Both men agreed that down rivah SUPing is not the direction the sport should be taken, and battle boarding certainly isn't the right direction to go.  They also disagreed with some of my points, and I respect that.  They are both true rivah surfers, and I have the utmost admiration for each one.....................that's right.  I just stated that I have the utmost respect for two legends of the SUP community.................but wait a minute?  How could that be?  I trash SUP, and I am such an evil villain it would be impossible that I could ever be accepted by paddlers and SUP'rs in our little world of whitewater...........and yet I always am, and always will be.  That should tell the bandwagon something.............but lessons seem to fly right over the heads of that crew.  The last one certainly did.  I am sure this one will as well.  



“You have attributed conditions to villainy that simply result from stupidity.” 

                                                         ~ Robert A. Heinlein~

   And now for the conclusion that is the saga of SUP and The IC.  During the course of this little game I have been poking the fire every chance I can get in regards to the bandwagon bitches of RVA.  I did this for a few reasons.  First off, I wanted to win the bet.  Second, it amuses the shit out of me to rile them up.  And third, I needed to make sure I had the SUP Nations attention before I commenced with the real reason for my attack on SUP............based on the numbers, I most certainly have it.  I figured a negative article on SUP would draw more attention than a positive one............there is always a method to my madness, and this time that method more than worked.
   In one of the comments to my post, a loyal follower of the Be Moore revolution commented by asking what Ben had done to piss me off.  Funny you should ask that question, because I will be happy to give you the answer.  And that answer lies within a story........................the story of Be Moore.


   "Ben started guiding sometime during the early 2000's and trained both Marcelle and I when we came through the raft shop our rookie year.  Before Celle and I left for Asheville in 2005, the old school days of RRC existed with no Fourteenth Street, no bandwagon of sell out followers, and no shameless self promotion.  We were all friends, the rivah was nothing more than a rivah, and there was TRUTH to our little community.  Once Marcelle and I left for Asheville, Ben and the boys formed Team WAV, bought the bus, and spent years Dirt Baggin' the right way throughout the mid-atlantic and beyond.
   Ben traveled through Norway during the summers and traveled through the VA's during the year.  I ran into him once or twice over the years, but for the most part both he and I were just doing our thing..........................but I know Ben remembers that TRUTH I am referring to from the old school days, don't you Be?
   When I returned from Asheville things were different.  Fourteenth Street had been built and the bandwagon bull shit was in it's infancy stage.  I bought straight into that bull shit, and the small divisions that exist here in the RVA community started to quietly form.................that is about the time Ben discovered SUPing, and began his transition from a hand paddler to a walking tool.  (or should I say standing tool)
   In the first year, SUP took off in popularity throughout the city and beyond, and it wasn't long before boards started showing up on the rivah.  This was about the time I took the ACA Kayaking Instructor class and began to teach through my new program at the YMCA and then at Westview.  During the ACA class, I met a lot of new boaters, including a man who was a quiet, humble, TRUE paddler.  I was impressed with his balance and humbleness, as well as his skill, and couldn't think of a better fit for someone to join my dream of my very own kayaking program.  We partnered up on the project and began to roll.
   My friend met all the parties involved, and after contemplating the endeavor, chose to step back and instead pursue his own dream of starting a Paddle Board program.  I respected that and respected the humble way he chose to step back.  It was very disappointing for me, but I understood fully why he made the decision he made, and he showed me the utmost respect when he made that decision.  This man went on to create Black Dog Paddles.  He ran a legitamate company and his business plan was spot on.  Black Dog began popping up all over town, and before long was known as THE go to source for SUP and SUP instruction.  It wasn't long before Be Moore popped up on the radar screen and became sponsored by Black Dog.  It was a great partnership for both.  Black Dog could push it's whitewater program and Ben could follow his dream....................Black Dog gave Be Moore the start he needed in SUP...........PERIOD!
   Ben was also a program director for VCU and guide for Riverside Outfitters.  He was living his dream and I respected that.  I know true Dirt Baggin' when I see it.  Before long, Be Moore was synonymous with the name Black Dog and his SUPing skills were being promoted well through the company.  I was proud of my friends and happy to see their business growing right along side my own small kayaking program.  The James was alive with whitewater life.
   Black Dogs mission was to provide high QUALITY instruction and service to it's clients, and I knew the company would follow that mission because of the man in charge.  He was a technical thinker, believed in the values and instruction practices of the ACA, and wanted to see whitewater programming taught the right way.  The ACA teaches a specific progression in whitewater kayaking, and the skills developed on flat water are a vital part of running whitewater.  Because of that, a majority of time in the beginning of training should be spent on flat water...............teaching on flatwater can be a bit boring for beginners.  But still, it is highly necessary for a proper foundation to the sport.  Trust me, I learned that the hard way.  Black Dog believed that the fundamentals of SUP should be taught the same way.
   However, Ben wanted the glory, and wanted to put himself in a position where the program wasn't about SUP, it was about Ben.  He wanted to be the hero on the water, the one to spend his days as the mighty SUP'r there to be worshipped by the masses as he safely traversed his young and beautiful clients down the rivah.  The easiest way to do that was to look at SUPing not as a carefully taught ACA style class, but as nothing more than a raft trip.  Buy a bunch of boards, market some trips, throw some people on those boards, and then scrape up the carnage behind as they were forced down the rivah with very little knowledge about what they were doing..................in the end, Ben simply wanted to cut corners.  I have a BIG problem with that.  These were his choices, and it was his program and his world, but I was going to be damned if my program followed a model like that.  I wanted a small, high quality program that focused on 12 teens per year, each to be brought up and trained over the course of four years.  I wanted to see kayaking taught the right way.  I wanted to teach those kids the TRUTH about the sport we all hold dear to our hearts.  And I know that Massey, Van, Matt, Patrick, and everyone else involved in that program knows what I was trying to create was the TRUTH and the proper way it should be done.  If Ben wanted to create shit and push it down the rivah every day that was his choice...............but it hurt to watch.  
   Riverside Outfitters was the perfect platform for Be Moore to launch the dream of shoveling shit programming on a daily basis.  They were an outfitter with very little knowledge of the depth of whitewater paddling.  Outfitters keep it simple, and I get that.  They want to crank out trips to the masses, and then party it up with the core group of Dirt Bag Guides that exist at every raft shop throughout the world.  When it comes to rafting, that business model works well.  After all, commercial rafting is nothing more than a daily circus moving down rivah...............always has been and always will.
   Ben was stuck in a dilemma....................he had to choose between Black Dog and the high quality, low number programming looking to be established, or the high quantity, low quality programming of an outfitter.  This decision was a simple one for Ben;  do you want to do it the right way, or do you want to cut corners.  Guess which one he chose?
   My problem is not with the choice Ben made, and it is not with the fact that he chose to shovel shit programming to the masses.  My problem is how Ben went about doing it.  He simply dropped Black Dog.  No reason, no respect, and no class.  He just dropped them, and betrayed a good man who had done nothing but follow an honest business model.  He betrayed a good man who had given Ben his start...............but most importantly he betrayed someone who was my friend, and someone I know for a fact exemplifies some of the finest character anyone in the RVA paddling community has ever seen.  And because that man did exhibit such fine character, Ben knew his betrayal would be quietly overlooked and he would be able to move forward without ever having to look behind him at the people he walked all over to get where he is today.  Ben knew that his betrayal would go silent.
   Unfortunately, that is not the extent of the damage caused by the ego of Be Moore.  Once the SUP program was started at Riverside, the bandwagon took off, and the masses flocked in closely in the hopes that they too could catch a ride on that wagon.  The quantity of the program increased, all while the quality was pushed deeper and deeper into the darkness.  Once the VCU crew caught on and the guides at riverside outnumbered the actual customers, the groupie mentality was complete, and Ben successfully had his following to stroke that ego he holds so dear.  The shit show of the James was born, and today it is more alive and well than ever before.
   But Ben wasn't done there.  See, before Riverside, Black Dog was the only SUP game in town.  So now not only had been bent over the one man that had given him his start, but he also created competition for Black Dog, and essentially put a second program on the RVA map in a town only big enough for one.  Ben screwed over Black Dog in every way imaginable, and he never once looked back, because he knew it was easier to simply ignore what he had done.  He knew it was easier to just pretend.  He knew that if he waited long enough, his perception of the situation would eventually become reality.  So now here we are in 2014, and sure enough, most have forgotten the history you just heard.  Most of the bandwagon wasn't even around during the time this story took place, so it was easy for Ben to recruit his masses.  After all, they were all clueless followers and would believe anything they were told.  I guess once again, perception truly is reality. 
   I am not telling this story to trash Ben, although I am well aware that it does.  Believe it or not, I personally have no disliking for Ben.  I have always liked him and always tried my best to exhibit respect and friendship towards him.  We were friends for ten years, and are both a deep part of the James Rivah history.  But I do not respect the professional decision Ben made, and I am no longer going to sit back and watch TRUTH in this community be overlooked.  
   I am not telling this story for me.  I am not seeking revenge for anything, and I do not want to see Ben suffer.  I am doing this because I once watched a good man get screwed over for no reason what-so-ever.  I watched the TRUTH of the paddling community forced out for the bandwagon bull shit that exists today.  The owner of Black Dog was smart.  He simply removed himself from the paddling community and went on doing his thing, as so many people in our community who represent TRUTH have done over the years, and that my friends is what is so heartbreaking.  Over the last ten years I have watched the best of our community be forced out one by one.  They simply didn't want to deal with the bull shit they saw forming.  They had to let go of their home, and the rivah they loved.  When we lost those people, we lost the TRUTH in our community."


   I am well aware that this story will not go over well amongst the masses and will probably give The IC an even worse reputation that it already has...............I don't care.  I am tired of watching my home rivah be turned into a fucking kindergarten class on a daily basis, so that the ego's of those I once called my friends can be stroked by the masses that have entered this shit show in the past five years.  The RVA community once held TRUTH, and during those days, the people had depth, the programs had quality, and the community had compassion.  Those days are gone, and it is people like Be Moore who killed them.  If you feel bad for Ben.............don't.  Ben is just the first in a long list of posers who will be called out this year, and something tells me they all know exactly who they are.........we can only hide the things we do for so long.  Trust me boys.  I learned that the hard way.  This post won't change a damn thing, because unfortunately the bandwagon is much more powerful than myself.  Ben will go on shoveling shit programming and bragging to me about the quantity of his so called SUP world, all while he overlooks the quality that it lacks.  But Ben will be fine, because once this story is published he will do what everyone on the bandwagon does when confronted with challenge...........tell a different version.  As you listen to that version, remember this;  I once wrote a post about The Fat Bastard that was even more critical than this one.  When I did, The Fat Bastard made sure to counter it with his own bull shit version, and in the end, most of the bandwagon ate that up as well.  I think we are all aware how that ugliness played out.  Remember that when you hear Ben's side, and remember how it ended for The Fat Bastard.
   To Ben, first I am sorry for what I have written.  I approached you last year and confronted you with the story that I just told, and you refused to deal with it or acknowledge it at all..............I get that.  It is what you have done all along and you hoped it would continue to work.  You just hoped it would go away.  Now it can.  I simply wanted to make sure that moving forward everyone in your world knew who you really were and how you got to this point.  Now that I have done that, you will get your wish.  The past will be forgotten.  But moving forward, I hope you remember this...............

   "A farmer probably makes descent money selling his manure back to the people, but at the end of the day he is still shoveling a pile of shit for a living."
                                                                         ~Anonymous~


   And now for the bandwagon....................it is very simple.  You preach HATE when dealing with me on a daily basis.  You demonize me, and point the finger claiming that I am broken, I preach hate to all, and I simply want to see others suffer.  Don't confuse HATE with TRUTH.  You are all young and completely fucking clueless.  It takes time to understand the full picture, so in the future know that you would be better off shutting your mouths, opening your eyes, and using the sense God gave you to seek out the TRUTH.  To help you understand this, I will give you an analogy.................watch squirt boaters.  They represent the most TRUTH there is in the paddling world.  You know why?  Because they don't only see what is happening on the surface.  They go deeper than that.  They see things three dimensionally, and in doing so they always find the TRUTH.


“A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.” 

                                               ~Mark Twain~    

See ya on the rivah..............and like I said before, hopefully trying to Be Moore than we ever were in the past.   TRUTH

                         
P.S.  I am on my way out of town until Monday with no internet or access to the playground of social media.  This will give y'all plenty of time to demonize me, bitch and whine, and create alternate conspiracy theories for when I return.  You have that choice, or you have the choice to fight this with silence.  Personally I would take the second option, because I can assure you that you do not want to go up against me.  I will conclude everything written today with an analysis and conclusion when I return, because believe it or not, I have a few more things to say.  Have a good weekend everyone!

Beatering...............It's what's for SUP'r

“There is nothing more frightful than ignorance in action.”
                  ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe~

   "SUPing sucks.".......................that about sums it up.  Not much more is needed to be said about the so-called-sport of Stand Up Paddle Boarding.  My motto for years has been that simple.  "SUPing sucks."  I would have gone into detail to explain myself in the past, but I figured why waste my breath.  People who SUP are experts at defending their own so-called "sport" because it is all they seem to do. Defend it.  Well, that and swim...........a lot.  So I wasn't going to be baited into pointless debates about why standing up while being swept down whitewater rapids is a really stupid idea.  Let me repeat.  I wasn't going to debate why trying to stand up while being swept down whitewater rapids is a really stupid idea.  Am I the only one who seems to understand how simple this conversation should be?................apparently I am.  So it looks like it is time to bring some HATE, Island Chronicles style.


"Just because a person can take a dump standing up doesn't mean they should do it for fun."
                            ~Justin Harris~

    I was simply going to put the above quote up and call it a day, seeing that it perfectly explains this entire post (and because it is the first time I have ever quoted myself in The IC), but let's look a bit closer at the "activity" that is SUP.  Hating on SUPing just to hate would not validate wasting space in The Island Chronicles.  I can do that in person at anytime.  But justifying why SUPing is not a sport in a logical and informative way does warrant the time and energy it takes to build The Island Chronicles.  As I have stated before, I was raised by a kindergarten teacher (which explains so much about what is wrong with me), and I was taught that everything in life should be organized and written out in concise, productive lists.............which is bull shit by the way.  (and on a side note, you do NOT learn everything you need to know about life in kindergarten)  However, I feel that the best way to inform you about why SUPing sucks would be by listing the ten most obvious reasons.  (there are A LOT more than just these 10)  Let us begin with the most simple and straight forward......................

1.  SUPing is stupid...........not the most profound or intellectual reason, but then again, SUPing is not a profound or intellectual activity.  The next nine reasons will strengthen and validate reason #1, but I feel this reason deserves to be first, because as I just stated, it truly is that simple.................SUPing is just stupid.

2.  Edging....................This is the fundamental argument of logic that I use to explain why the concept of whitewater SUPing is an impossible feet to accomplish.  Kayaks have edging that make them three dimensional and able to plane and catch water and current.  It is the edging and three dimensional cut of the boat design that allows it to turn on a dime, catch micro eddies, jet ferry at high speeds, and comfortably maneuver through tight whitewater puzzles.  Now look at the design of a whitewater raft.  A raft sits flat against the water and has no edging or ability to plane against current and water.  Because of this, when you turn a raft it continues to drift in the same direction until your custy's propel the boat in its new direction.  So simply put, a kayak, or hard boat, is designed with edges that allow it to cut into the water and turn tightly and smoothly.  A raft is designed with a flat bottom that does not carve into water and prevents it from turning tightly or smoothly.  Basically, paddling a kayak is the equivalent of driving a Porsche.  Paddling a raft is like driving a school bus.
   So edging equals agility, and flat equals slow and non agile.  Question..................does a SUP look three dimensional or flat to you?  I rest my case.

3.  Whitewater + Gravity + Standing Up = Beatering on the next level! ...............'Nough said.  Even if you are not associated with the whitewater, this example will make perfect sense to you.  It's just that simple of a concept.

4.  People who take up SUP are those who do not have the self discipline to learn the skills of REAL paddle sports....................This reason is simple to explain.  I could give a non-paddler a whitewater kayak and ask them to paddle in flat water, with a skirt on, without receiving any instruction.  Believe it or not, people have drowned this way before.  I could give a non-paddler an open boat and ask them to paddle some easy Class II and they would probably not make it more than ten feet before swimming.........why is this?  The answer is simple.  Kayaking and Open Boating require a developed skill that takes time to master and build upon.  There are no posers in kayaking, one of the things I love the most about the sport.  If you can't boat, we are going to know pretty quickly after hitting the water.  Point is, kayaking is not something you simply decide to start doing.............Now, what happens when you give a non-paddler a SUP and ask them to demonstrate their natural abilities on some Class II whitewater...........they pretty much look the same as someone who has been SUPing whitewater for years..........why?  Because it is not a skill based activity.  (I refuse to use the word "sport" here)  Anyone can jump on a board, man up, and eat shit.  But more importantly, anyone can train at SUPing for years, man up,  and eat shit as well.............guaranteed.


5.  SUPing is a trend.................and trendy people suck!  Trust me, I have lived most of my life in RVA.


6.  It's a step backwards in the progression of whitewater paddle sports.  This is my second fundamental argument of logic.  Over the last 50 years, whitewater paddling has seen a steady progression in the knowledge of the sport, the gear and designs involved, and the abilities of the paddlers.  This has allowed the pieces of whitewater being run to expand rapidly over a short amount of time.................enter new types of paddling mechanisms to test the waters further.  Many SUPrs claim that the Paddle Board is the future of whitewater and is innovative............I just laughed so hard I pee'd my pants.  In order to be the future of a sport, you must bring something new to the table, such as the The Anvil.  The following video will demonstrate what progression in whitewater looks like....................

   ..................dropping Gorilla on a rivah board is some serious whitewater progression and has earned the Anvil and the sport a respected place in the whitewater community.  Now, my question is this............When are we going to see a SUP drop Gorilla?  The answer...........NEVER!  And even if there ever is an attempted Gorilla drop on a SUP, the carnage that ensues will simply prove how pointless of an endeavor it truly was to begin with.  The following video is a perfect example of the results of attempts to creek on a SUP..........................SUP South Silver.
   I will give the guy making the attempt some credit.  He is one tough bastard.  He takes a serious beating falling over those waterfalls, and even gets his ass kicked by his own board.  He would probably make a killer Hollywood stunt man.  I also give him credit for proving how ridiculous creek SUPing actually is.  Again, it doesn't take a whitewater expert to see just how stupid this activity is.  The fact is, whitewater SUPing brings no positive progression to the sport of whitewater paddling.


7.  It is an embarrassment to the whitewater world..............but then again, I guess everyone needs the special kid in the crowd.  If whitewater sports were Simpsons characters, Bart would be kayaking, Lisa would be Open Boating, Homer would be rafting, the baby would be The Anvil, and SUP.........well, let's just say that Ralph always was one to focus on moral victories.................

8.  This reason will be brought to you in pictures.  I use to photograph whitewater, and when I did I spent an afternoon photographing a group of local boaters who attempted descents down the Class III Lower James.  Let me be clear about this..........................I only photographed whitewater SUP for ONE DAY.  These were the results.  (it should be noted that the guys in these pictures are good guys and probably did better than most would do.)

I put this in to show that sometimes even a blind squirrel finds a nut.......and because it is a sweet ass picture that I took.

  

9.  The haters will love this one....................I am 100% confident that I could begin to train in whitewater SUPing today and within three months be able to compete with the so called "best in the world" in regards to the activity.  I am confident in this because I am still a solid athlete, have an in-depth understanding of whitewater, and don't mind taking a beating on a daily basis................I have also stood on a SUP and competed in whitewater for exactly one day of my life.  I would post a pic of the results of that attempt here, but that would be just too easy.

10. “Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe.” 
                                                                           ~Albert Einstein~


  In conclusion, I have known one of the leading athletes in the sport of SUPing for over a decade now, and he is successfully operating a SUP whitewater program on the Upper and Lower stretches of the James Rivah here in RVA.  I have openly expressed my opinion to him many times about SUP, and he usually takes it pretty well.  Recently I was engaged in a conversation with him about this upcoming post and during the discussion he responded................

   " Tear it up man. You are an obvious authority on the suckiness of sup since you have to deal with the largest whitewater paddle boarding program in the world right on your home run."

     This is a true statement, and I am proud of him for his accomplishment and wish him all the best in his future endeavor.  But in regards to his response, I would just like to say this...........

   " I am sure the smartest kid on the short bus is proud of his accomplishment as well, but you don't see him running into the school to tell all the cool kids about it, now do you."  


   Go back to the flat water and know your role.  See ya on the rivah........... ..........hopefully trying to Be Moore than what we have all been in the past.   PEACE

   

One More Wave for RVA..........................

“When truth is replaced by silence,the silence is a lie.”
                         ~Yevgeny Yevtushenko~

   I would like to quickly follow up on last weeks post concerning The Fat Bastard and our wild and wonderful RVA boating community.  In regards to the unfortunate incident that occurred, I have 100% confidence in our legal and justice systems concerning the matter, and trust that the system will produce fair and balanced results in the end................whoooh!  That was really difficult to get out, but I did it.  

   I would also like to thank everyone for the support they have given The IC in recent weeks.  I may not care if anyone reads it, but when you do and then encourage me through sincerity and support, it definitely makes a brother feel proud.  There are lots of haters out there, so it is always vitally important to back those who speak their minds no matter what the outcome may be.  I simply want to write and boat, and as always the choice is yours to follow and support the decisions I make in regards to what I write.  For those who do, I am grateful to you.  

   There is also the other crowd, most notably, The Bandwagon.  Recently I have been hearing a lot of talk about how the Bandwagon crew has gone out of its way to contact people in the paddling community and outside of it who are openly supportive of my writing and The IC.  They have asked that friends and acquaintances of mine not share information with me regarding the RVA boating community, that they not openly support the writing that I deliver, and that they basically think the same way as the rest of the Fourteenth Street followers......................seriously fella's?  That's what the communist do.  Maybe we should start referring to the Fourteenth Street takeout as the North Korea of whitewater.  You can all wear the same drab paddling gear, and be outcast if you communicate with the "outsiders"..................I mean, there already is a barbwire fence surrounding the parking lot.  You are pretty much half way there.

   The fact is, when you are doing something as pathetic and desperate as openly attempting censorship, it shows where The Island Chronicles stands in its influence on you and your community.  Perhaps if you didn't walk around playing pretend, only noticing the things you want to notice, and attempting to force the paddling community into a certain narrow minded viewpoint..................similar to the behaviors of The Fat Bastard over the years............you wouldn't have to sneak around attempting to silence me through individual manipulation.  I want to paddle and I want to write.  And I will continue to do exactly that.  My advice to those bowdlerizing peddling bandwagon groupies who are trying to play the omniscient role in the VA paddling scene is simple.......................go paddling, enjoy the rivah, and give it up.  You may as well accept it.  I'm not going anywhere, until I make the decision to do so.  

“And to those who would choose the safety of inaction over the danger of taking a stand, I have this to say:
You bloody cowards. May you have the world that you deserve.”
~Mira Grant~

See ya on the rivah.......................and that rivah is The James for the next month.   PEACE             

Round 5: The Story (The Defining Year - Part II)

If you missed Part I of this story, feel free to read it by clicking here.   



"Men go back to the mountains, as they go back to sailing ships at sea, because in the mountains and on the sea they must face up, as did men of another age, to the challenge of nature. Modern man lives in a highly synthetic kind of existence. He specializes in this and that. Rarely does he test all his powers or find himself whole. But in the hills and on the water the character of a man comes out."
                                                        ~Abram T. Collier~
   

   As the summer of 2007 flowed along I began to gain a bit of clarity about the direction I wanted to drive my future.  I was heartbroken that I needed to start thinking about where I was going to take my life without Marcelle, but she was gone.  I wasn't left with much of a choice in that decision.  My "career" as a Case Manager was rolling along and my case files had narrowed to focusing on working with male teenage youth with behavioral and emotional problems as a result of severe sexual trauma during childhood.............the job was heavy to say the least, and I had to learn quickly how to detach myself emotionally and personally from my work.  After reading Case Files and the history's of abuse I will say this.....................there are some truly evil and terrible people in this world and they have no business walking this earth as human beings.  That is all I have to say about that.  
   My strength in my career was the connection and trust I was able to develop with my clients.  One of my biggest attributes to my job was my love and knowledge of outdoor recreation.  My job offered me the ability to develop my own therapeutic plans, and I always incorporated outdoor recreation of some sort into every clients weekly schedule, because the outdoors is healthy for everyone.............well, except for albino's.  They should stay out of the sun, but I didn't have any albino clients so it was cool.  My backyard was Pisgah National Forest and Dupont State Forest, so needless to say I had a vast amount of territory to explore during work hours.  One of my most beloved hikes to take clients on was the hike in to see the Green Narrows.  If you have never experienced this hike, it is simple to describe................

   "A nice leisurely to moderate 30 minute walk down into the Green Rivah Gamelands, following a beautiful cascading creek along the way, deep in a thick, hardwood forest.  After a mile and a half, the trail drops away, 1000 feet straight down to the gorge floor, and the inner guts of the Green Rivah Narrows reveal themselves.  Once to the bottom, a vigorous quarter mile trail takes you to Gorilla, the heart of the entire gorge."

Deep in the heart of the gorge, below Sunshine

   

The Monster Mile at a not so runnable flow........800%

   My logic and planning of this hike always held a deeper therapeutic value.  My clients were male teenagers, also known as the laziest human beings alive.  The trail is deceptive because it is an out and back hike.  As we descended into the constricted gash that rested on the southern side of the WNC plateau, full of energy and anticipation, I would conveniently forget to remind them that they would also need to hike out everything they were hiking in.  This revelation would usually dawn on them about the time I would say, "ok, time to head back up."  Then they would look at me and say, "You mean we gotta go back up that?"...............this question ranks right up there with the famous custy question, "Do we take out the same place we put in?"....................to answer that question for all those trying to figure it out right now.  "Yes.  The rivah goes in a circle."
   The hike out of the gorge is straight up, loose, and brutal as hell.  It can be accomplished in 10 minutes or an hour, depending on your level of fitness and will to just get it over with.  But the one thing that is true for all is that the only way out is up.  And it's going to hurt....................needless to say I put my skills as a role model and the foundation of trust I had built on the line in this "initiation" of sorts, and dealt with many different scenarios on the side of that damn mountain.  I witnessed emotional breakdowns, fits of anger, sheer and vile hatred toward me, threats of violence (which was never an actuality because they were too tired to strike out), and finally and most uniquely, one kid laid at the top of the trail for an hour, just staring at the sky. To this day that kid is convinced he suffered a heart attack. (They still all performed better than the Fourteenth Street Whore.  She whined like a little bitch the entire way up the mountain......seriously, it was pathetic.)  Every one of those little bastards made it though.  And once they did a level of respect developed between us, because I may have propelled them past their point of comfort, but I was right there beside them, and believed they could do it every step of the way.  I don't think that was something many of those boys had experienced before, and I will always be truly grateful for the experiences I created for them and for myself.  We gained respect for each other on those days, and I am sure it is a memory that will stay with them as firmly as it does with me.


“Being a role model is the most powerful form of educating...too often fathers neglect it because they get so caught up in making a living they forget to make a life.” 

                                                                                    ~John Wooden~

Quotes like that always remind me of the one thing I never really forget.

   When you do the right thing, and are awarded the creative freedom to pursue your passions as a therapeutic tool, productive things tend to happen.  The office started to show curiosity towards the hikes I took the boys on after the parents complemented my work on a consistent basis. (I also think they wanted to see exactly what I was doing for safety reasons.  No worries.  I was confident, and realized that there is always a sense of hesitation when introducing something new.)  The boys began to take their positive experiences home, which suggested that my work on the side of that damn mountain was paying off..............and thank God for that, because coaxing some of those boys out of that gorge was no easy task.  There were a few times I thought we might be sleeping out there.  I explained the process to my superiors and requested that I be allowed to test some of the higher level clients on more advanced outdoor activities.  Not only did they agree, but other Case Managers began bringing their own clients on hikes with me.  (which sometimes resulted in the clients almost killing each other, but you know what they say........you can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs.)  Before I knew it, the basic foundation of the dream I had created earlier that summer was now right at my doorstep, and in all honesty, I sort of fell in to it................I would say Island Magic here, but we are about 6 years too early.  I had developed my very first Outdoor Program.
   In the late summer of 2007 I embarked on my first professional kayaking trip by renting a duckie for a client at the NOC and navigating him down the Nantahala Rivah.................this was a very illustrious day for me, and foreshadowing of a unique and admirable opportunity that would come my way in the not so distant future of these memoirs.  The duckie trip was a celebrated achievement, and I even allowed my client to try out my kayak, which was not so much of a celebrated achievement.  I not only spent the remainder of my summer tromping through the woods, paddling down whitewater puzzles, and climbing out of deep gorges on my off days; I now spent EVERY day doing exactly that.  Life was moving forward..................and my heart was beginning to heal.


“You can love someone so much...But you can never love people as much as you can miss them.”
                                                                   ~John Green~

   Marcelle and I communicated frequently throughout the summer, but she never came to the house.  I always traveled to visit her.   Then one warm sunny afternoon in August she called me and told me she was in Mills River, just down the highway from our place, and wanted to know if she could come by.  She sounded cheerful and positive and I was excited to see her.  When she arrived I quickly concluded that she looked different.  It only took a second for me to realize she had altered her hair, which is something she had never done before.  I liked it, but I liked the way Celle was naturally as well.  That is one of the things I loved about Celle.  When she woke up she was just as beautiful as she always was................I can tell you from experience that is not always the case with a woman, but Marcelle was just that, naturally beautiful.  

   It is also my conclusion from multiple experiences in my past that when a woman alters her hair in a drastic way, it usually means she is going through a form of emotional or psychological discovery.............I am not even going to begin to try and figure it out.  But something is going on..........that I am sure of.  In this case, with a woman as passionate and colorfully creative as Marcelle, whatever it was was going to be big.  She greeted me with a hug and a kiss and came right in...................I was happy.  Marcelle had come home.

   We sat and talked and she told me she wanted to come back to the house but needed to modify some things about her life and needed one great adventure before the next chapter began.  She explained that she wanted to quite her job, sell her truck, and take a trip through Africa for six months............ok?  Then she informed me that when she returned she did not want to continue to live in Western North Carolina.  She explained that there were to many white people and not enough diversity, as well as an unbelievable amount of racism and narrow minded religious thinking.  (unfortunately this was all true.  We were not religious, but there were many local Western North Carolinians who felt the need to tells that we should be.  There were also rumors of active KKK's in many of the small towns.......WTF?)  She told me that she loved me and wanted to be with me but she knew how much I loved the mountains, and would support me if I made the decision to stay.  Then she told me that I needed to take some time to mull over my decision.  She had scheduled to depart on her trip in January of 2008.............needless to say this turned out to be a pretty heavy afternoon for me.  Looks like I had a little pondering to do.  I couldn't think of a better place to do it than on a rivah.

"The fact that you cannot kiss your elbow is enough to make you realize that some things seem so close, yet they are beyond your reach."

                                                                   ~Anonymous~  

   You just tried to kiss your elbow, didn't you?....................Summer rolled into Fall and our quaint little life fell back into a rhythm and routine.  We seemed to have developed a new appreciation for one another and our relationship was healthy and lively.  Marcelle continued her 3 and 4 day work weeks on trail, and I continued to expand my paddling capabilities crick by crick, and rivah by rivah.  As I embarked on each mission, a decision weighed heavily on my mind.  Would I stay, or would I go? 

    During my tenure at the Mental Health Agency, I spent a majority of my time traveling from school to school.  I met many teachers along the way, including a regular Green boater, who after multiple attempts to convince him of my skill, finally agreed to lead me down the Narrows...................so on a cold October morning close to Green Race time, I pulled my boat down to the waters edge, and slid my kayak into the Upper Green with my guide and a rookie boater embarking on his first Upper trip.  We set out with the intention of not stopping until we hit Fishtops.

Some of what lies between the put-in and the take-out.

   The trip was as mysterious, enchanting, and as magical as every Narrows boaters first time experience could be when running the Green Rivah Narrows.  Although I had descended into the gorge many times over the years by foot, entering it from above by boat was a truly euphoric adventure.  I doubt I am alone in sharing the following sentiment.....................the first time you descend the Green Rivah Narrows is an experience that can never be replicated again.  It truly is a one of a kind memory.
   Although my nerves were a bit shot after slipping through Frankenstein, styling the boof at Zwicks, and bombing Rapid Transit, when the end came all I could think about was getting back out and doing it again..................I literally obsessed about it non stop for the next week.  I was in another world.  It was as if I was suffering from Narrows fever, and the only cure was another run.  I was awarded that second run soon after, and then another, and then another.  In fact I received six helpings of the Green throughout the the Fall of that year................when I finished that sixth lap in early November, if you had told me it would be over four years before I had the opportunity to return to that mythical rivah, I would have told you that was absurd.................but in fact, that was the reality of my Narrows future.

Boofing Frankenstein on a perfect day

   I had envisioned monumental goals for myself and my kayaking career after that first run down the Green..............weekend laps on multiple higher water levels, knocking out the Big Three within a year, developing a core group of Dirt Bag gradient seekers to watch my back and experience the uniqueness that is the Green River Gorge as one cohesive unit.  I envisioned myself training for the Green Race and boofing into the greatest show on earth in my moment of whitewater perfection....................I conceptualized all of these things in my mind for the future, and I anticipated that Marcelle would be right there beside me.  The fact that those Green runs never happened is still one of the most heartbreaking lost dreams I will ever have.  Whenever I think about my brief tenure in the history that is the Green, a certain movie scene always resonates in my mind.............................................

    

        I was given the chance to paddle out into our whitewater ball field, and I was given my opportunity to kayak in the big leagues.  For that, I will always be grateful, even if it was just for a moment.  Moonlight Graham said it best, and for so long, up until I lost my children, my one wish was this........................

   "I would have liked to have boofed Gorilla on Race Day..........just once.  To have the chance to stare down the notch, lining up my boat for that one perfect angle, and squeeze through as the hoards screamed for an epic beat down, propelling me around the corner and onto the horizon line ahead.  Then as I shift my weight forward, dip my paddle blade into the water, and pull that ever so perfect golden stroke, launching me out and over the shoulders of the greatest whitewater gorilla on earth, I would look up, and for that one split second, as the whitewater world turned their eyes upon me, I would experience perfection in the sport that truly fills my soul.  That would have been my one wish."

Spanking the Monkey on the Narrows

   Some dreams were never meant to be fulfilled....................and that's passable, because the dream that took it's place was the most valuable dream a man could ever have.  Stay tuned, because the conclusion of this story is not far off.

"It's like coming this close to your dreams, and then watching them brush past like a stranger in a crowd."

                                               ~Moonlight Graham~

See ya on the rivah..................hopefully boofing into your next whitewater dream.   PEACE

 
 Click here to continue the story.........................Part III of The Defining Year