“Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.”
~Gary Snyder~
Every man comes across a time in his life when he has to just say "Fuck It!". That time in my life came about last Wednesday when a judge looked me in the eyes and stated, "I don't think Outdoor Recreation is cutting it son. Maybe it is time to look for a new career." My perception of what our trusted Adjudicator of Justice said to me was, "Your ex-wife despises you and kayaking, and doesn't want you boating anymore. She wants you to be miserable, hate your life, and hand every penny you have over to her for the rest of your life, regardless of whether or not she ever lets you see your children again. This is her only way to even the score".............Now, she may have taken my kids, my house, all my money, my dignity, even the dog, but I will be damned if she was EVER going to take away boating..........................so there was only one thing left to do. Find a way to go Dirt Baggin'! And that is exactly what I did.
“Life has become immeasurably better since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously.”
~Hunter S. Thompson~
The story of how this weekend played out begins in my favorite little coffee shop in Downtown RVA last Thursday afternoon. I was re-evaluating the plan for my upcoming weekend after scrounging together far less cash over the course of the week then I had anticipated. Work had been postponed due to rain, and I was out of options for ways to make things work for the adventure. I had 40 bucks in my pocket and a gas tank that sat on empty. I was also apprised the day before of the fact that I owed 27,000 dollars to my ex-wife, plus another 1200+ a month. (no, that is not a misprint. Did I mention my ex-wife is rich and the system is broken) Those types of numbers will take the wind out of any mans sails, especially one who is living day to day. As I sat there feeling pathetically sorry for myself (which was doing me no good at all) a message popped up on Facebook from an old friend asking if I knew anyone that could teach him his roll...................fate seems to fall into my lap at the most dire of moments. I don't find these circumstances a coincidence. I informed him I was able to teach him and happened to be in RVA with no plans for the evening. An hour and a half later I was on the rivah, teaching kayaking, and doing what I loved, only this time it had a purpose..........to fund yet another Dirt Baggin' adventure. It delighted me to be on The James teaching again. My client learned his C to C roll in fifteen minutes, and was able to experience the magic and mystery of his first descent of the Lower James, cleaning the run under my instruction. THAT is what kayaking is all about and I was jubilant about the opportunity to assist another in discovering the enchantment that our sport brings to an adventurous soul.
I awoke Friday morning with a simple plan; find a way to make it to Lexington, Va. by 4:30pm, catch a ride with a group of nomadic Dirt Bags, and head for the deepest hollars of West By God........even if we were actually going to Western Maryland and Southern Pennsylvania. (in my mind it is all West By God) My only dilemma was that I still had very little cash, so I needed to find a way to come up with some more money............and quick. However, I am the king when it comes to ALWAYS finding a way, so I had faith that I would do exactly that...............find a way. I contacted some friends in Cville, and found that a fellow DB had plenty of small projects needing attention. I lined up an afternoon of work, filled my tank with forty bucks in gas, and was rambling up I-64 with my car, spirit of adventure, and PINK strapped on my roof, anticipating the opportunity to get wet.
“No, no! The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time.”
~Lewis Carroll~
Following a Friday afternoon of sweating it out under the sun and some much needed character building labor, I arrived at the parking lot of the Lexington, Va Wally World prepared for an EPIC weekend of whitewater boat riding. Before long my fellow Dirt Bag culprits arrived as well, ready to roll out for the hills of West By God and beyond. This was a true Dirt Bag Royals trip. Our car contained three colorful characters from the VA boating scene.......myself, my fellow Royal Krazy-C-Boater, and a new accomplice to our scene..........Ranger Dave. Ranger Dave was a man of safety, and was always looking out for the welfare of others on the adventures by providing the highest quality safety gear available. Be it during our travels from hollar to hollar, or on the rivah, we could always count on Ranger Dave to be there with his vast experience in the ways of quality safety meetings. That is why he was Ranger Dave. He was also one hell of a kayaker, and was popping his cherry on the rivah we were destined for, the mighty Upper Yough. In short, Ranger Dave was a TRUE Dirt Bag and a quality addition to the team.
Our destination was the small town of Friendsville, Maryland, and our chariot was a true Dirt Baggin' dream machine. After three hours of extensive safety talks, quality tunes, and plenty of paddle porn to occupy our foggy minds, the small borough of Friendsville, Maryland revealed it's existence nestled deep in the hills of the Maryland panhandle. We exited, stocked up on munchies and provisions, and headed up the winding pathway to our campground not far up the mountain and close to the Upper Yough put-in.
We planned to camp with a crew of truly EPIC open boaters from the Mid-Atlantic, the Full Gnarlz Crew. We quickly discovered that these boys of Open Boating were into some serious Dirt Bag like shenanigans, including mason jars of West By God goodness, late night debauchery, and 1am fireworks being tossed into the campfire. Of course these antics also resulted in our crew being labeled as "extremely inconsiderate" the next morning by the surrounding campsites (which would be very true), but then again, what else could be expected from a crew of rowdy, moonshine fueled Open Boating Dirt Bags...............Gnarlzfest 2014 was in full swing.
“I'm gonna party, see how intoxicated I can get and how many rules I can flaunt. That's my motto.”
~H.G. Bissinger~
The story of how this weekend played out begins in my favorite little coffee shop in Downtown RVA last Thursday afternoon. I was re-evaluating the plan for my upcoming weekend after scrounging together far less cash over the course of the week then I had anticipated. Work had been postponed due to rain, and I was out of options for ways to make things work for the adventure. I had 40 bucks in my pocket and a gas tank that sat on empty. I was also apprised the day before of the fact that I owed 27,000 dollars to my ex-wife, plus another 1200+ a month. (no, that is not a misprint. Did I mention my ex-wife is rich and the system is broken) Those types of numbers will take the wind out of any mans sails, especially one who is living day to day. As I sat there feeling pathetically sorry for myself (which was doing me no good at all) a message popped up on Facebook from an old friend asking if I knew anyone that could teach him his roll...................fate seems to fall into my lap at the most dire of moments. I don't find these circumstances a coincidence. I informed him I was able to teach him and happened to be in RVA with no plans for the evening. An hour and a half later I was on the rivah, teaching kayaking, and doing what I loved, only this time it had a purpose..........to fund yet another Dirt Baggin' adventure. It delighted me to be on The James teaching again. My client learned his C to C roll in fifteen minutes, and was able to experience the magic and mystery of his first descent of the Lower James, cleaning the run under my instruction. THAT is what kayaking is all about and I was jubilant about the opportunity to assist another in discovering the enchantment that our sport brings to an adventurous soul.
I awoke Friday morning with a simple plan; find a way to make it to Lexington, Va. by 4:30pm, catch a ride with a group of nomadic Dirt Bags, and head for the deepest hollars of West By God........even if we were actually going to Western Maryland and Southern Pennsylvania. (in my mind it is all West By God) My only dilemma was that I still had very little cash, so I needed to find a way to come up with some more money............and quick. However, I am the king when it comes to ALWAYS finding a way, so I had faith that I would do exactly that...............find a way. I contacted some friends in Cville, and found that a fellow DB had plenty of small projects needing attention. I lined up an afternoon of work, filled my tank with forty bucks in gas, and was rambling up I-64 with my car, spirit of adventure, and PINK strapped on my roof, anticipating the opportunity to get wet.
“No, no! The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time.”
~Lewis Carroll~
Following a Friday afternoon of sweating it out under the sun and some much needed character building labor, I arrived at the parking lot of the Lexington, Va Wally World prepared for an EPIC weekend of whitewater boat riding. Before long my fellow Dirt Bag culprits arrived as well, ready to roll out for the hills of West By God and beyond. This was a true Dirt Bag Royals trip. Our car contained three colorful characters from the VA boating scene.......myself, my fellow Royal Krazy-C-Boater, and a new accomplice to our scene..........Ranger Dave. Ranger Dave was a man of safety, and was always looking out for the welfare of others on the adventures by providing the highest quality safety gear available. Be it during our travels from hollar to hollar, or on the rivah, we could always count on Ranger Dave to be there with his vast experience in the ways of quality safety meetings. That is why he was Ranger Dave. He was also one hell of a kayaker, and was popping his cherry on the rivah we were destined for, the mighty Upper Yough. In short, Ranger Dave was a TRUE Dirt Bag and a quality addition to the team.
Our destination was the small town of Friendsville, Maryland, and our chariot was a true Dirt Baggin' dream machine. After three hours of extensive safety talks, quality tunes, and plenty of paddle porn to occupy our foggy minds, the small borough of Friendsville, Maryland revealed it's existence nestled deep in the hills of the Maryland panhandle. We exited, stocked up on munchies and provisions, and headed up the winding pathway to our campground not far up the mountain and close to the Upper Yough put-in.
We planned to camp with a crew of truly EPIC open boaters from the Mid-Atlantic, the Full Gnarlz Crew. We quickly discovered that these boys of Open Boating were into some serious Dirt Bag like shenanigans, including mason jars of West By God goodness, late night debauchery, and 1am fireworks being tossed into the campfire. Of course these antics also resulted in our crew being labeled as "extremely inconsiderate" the next morning by the surrounding campsites (which would be very true), but then again, what else could be expected from a crew of rowdy, moonshine fueled Open Boating Dirt Bags...............Gnarlzfest 2014 was in full swing.
“I'm gonna party, see how intoxicated I can get and how many rules I can flaunt. That's my motto.”
~H.G. Bissinger~
I awoke the next morning from a sound and peaceful sleep under the stars to the anticipation of a day of full on Class IV whitewater. There are so many variables about the Upper Yough that make it such a unique and memorable day of whitewater. For all the non boaters of The Island Chronicles, the Upper Yough is a dam controlled rivah on a release schedule. This means that there is a lake a few miles above the put-in that has been formed by a dam, in this case Deep Creek Lake. Water is released in the morning from the dam at a pre-determined flow to allow boaters the opportunity to paddle big water during the dry summer months. This is also true of the Green Rivah in WNC and the Gauley in central West By God. The water does not arrive at the put-in until 1pm on the Upper Yough, allowing boaters the opportunity to sleep in, cure the previous nights hangovers, as well as explore the town of Friendsville on Saturday mornings while running shuttle and waiting for the water to arrive. It is a slow morning, just like the town of Friendsville. This always warrants time to sit by the rivah and contemplate your thoughts in the hammock that dangles between two trees just outside of the local coffee shop. Many familiar boating faces usually end up at this spot, and the anticipation of the adventure that awaits us all is the subject of the morning conversation as we catch up with old friends. Friendsville truly provides a whitewater town unparalleled in it's peace, tranquility, and character, and for me it always provides a humble escape from the world.
~K. Martin Beckner
We turned up at the put-in before the water arrived, determined to get an early start and eddy hop our way down to National Falls so we could have a prime viewing spot for the carnage that was sure to ensue from the droves of Open Boaters who had partaken in the pilgrimage. The put-in of the Upper Yough is just another variable that makes this rivah so prodigious in our whitewater world. Dirt Bag shuttle vehicles line up in a grassy field by the rivah, each stacked with colorfully clad Kayaks, Open Boats, C-1's, Rafts, Squirt Boats, Wave Hoppers, long boats, play boats, and the occasional inflatable dinosaur...................we will come back to that last one. The sun is always shining bright in the early summer afternoon when at the put-in, and each and every boater there has paid their dues to get to this rivah. For some it is a harmonious jaunt down quality whitewater, while for others it is an epic day of first time Class IV-V creek boating. I have calmed my nerves many times here in the past with a barefoot game of Frisbee in the soft grass, an early siesta under the summer sun, or a quick safety meeting in the wooded grove on the banks of the rivah. The Upper Yough put-in is yet another quality variable on a rivah full of whitewater secrets.
We decided to keep our group small for the paddle down to Nationals, which is usually the safest and most efficient way to run the UY, or any whitewater rivah for that matter. Krazy, myself, and Ranger Dave plopped our boats down by the water after gearing up at the car. All around us, boaters were engaged in the pre-rivah process of blowing up airbags, packing the essentials, tightening boat screws, and working out logistics with one another. I slid my boat into the water, and began the calm, quiet paddle down the two miles of flat water that only further hides the mystery's of the Upper Yough Gorge. As I did, I felt the weight that hung heavy around my neck slowly release. The 27,000 bucks, the family dilemma, the thoughts of when I would see my boys, the bandwagon haters, the homelessness, the feeling of being hopelessly trapped............it all slid away for just that one day. All I needed to concern myself with now was the fact that I possessed a kayak, water, food, safety gear, and the skill and knowledge to traverse 7 miles of non-stop Class IV whitewater with true friends around me. It is what kayaking has bestowed upon me..................the ability to liberate myself from the nightmare that haunts me every moment of every day, and for that I am forever beholden to the sport we all cherish and hold dear to our hearts. Sometimes I think kayaking and the rivah lifestyle have saved my life.....................for all those who have been a part of that way of life, Thank You.
Stay tuned, because we are about to take a journey down one of the classic whitewater rivahs of the East, complete with a moving soiree of Dirt Bag Gradient Seekers, a hoard of Open Boating fanatics, and a not so successful ride through National's on an inflatable dinosaur...........told you we would come back to that one.
“I like geography best, he said, because your mountains & rivers know the secret. Pay no attention to boundaries.”
~Brian Andreas~
We decided to keep our group small for the paddle down to Nationals, which is usually the safest and most efficient way to run the UY, or any whitewater rivah for that matter. Krazy, myself, and Ranger Dave plopped our boats down by the water after gearing up at the car. All around us, boaters were engaged in the pre-rivah process of blowing up airbags, packing the essentials, tightening boat screws, and working out logistics with one another. I slid my boat into the water, and began the calm, quiet paddle down the two miles of flat water that only further hides the mystery's of the Upper Yough Gorge. As I did, I felt the weight that hung heavy around my neck slowly release. The 27,000 bucks, the family dilemma, the thoughts of when I would see my boys, the bandwagon haters, the homelessness, the feeling of being hopelessly trapped............it all slid away for just that one day. All I needed to concern myself with now was the fact that I possessed a kayak, water, food, safety gear, and the skill and knowledge to traverse 7 miles of non-stop Class IV whitewater with true friends around me. It is what kayaking has bestowed upon me..................the ability to liberate myself from the nightmare that haunts me every moment of every day, and for that I am forever beholden to the sport we all cherish and hold dear to our hearts. Sometimes I think kayaking and the rivah lifestyle have saved my life.....................for all those who have been a part of that way of life, Thank You.
Stay tuned, because we are about to take a journey down one of the classic whitewater rivahs of the East, complete with a moving soiree of Dirt Bag Gradient Seekers, a hoard of Open Boating fanatics, and a not so successful ride through National's on an inflatable dinosaur...........told you we would come back to that one.
~Brian Andreas~
See ya on the rivah..........hopefully letting the weight of the world fall away as we allow our souls to become lost on the rivah. PEACE
For an organized Table of Contents to The Island Chronicles, click here.
For an organized Table of Contents to The Island Chronicles, click here.
