- This is the conclusion to a four part story. Click here to access Part I, Part II, or Part III.
- For a Table of Contents to The Island Chronicles, please click here.
- Today's quotes will all be taken from the classic movie 'Dazed and Confused'. Why? Because this is my world and I can do whatever the hell I want in it, and because some kids at the take out yesterday made me feel super old when they told me they had no idea what 'Dazed and Confused' was....................fucking beaters.
"Behind every good man there is a woman.............and that woman was Martha Washington. And everyday George would come home and she would have a big fat bowl waiting for him when he came in the door. She was a hip, a hip, hip lady, man."
~Slater
The Virginia Dirt Bags awoke after sunrise on Sunday morning to foggy skies and cool summer temperatures. Our plans were as foggy as the weather, as they usually are on Sunday morning road trips. The previous nights rain had sent a bubble of water through the Yough Valley and the word around camp was that the bubble was a good one....................unfortunately it was a little too good. Lower Big Sandy was 7 feet and rising, the Top Yough was 1200 cfs and rising, the Upper Yough was 2.6 feet and rising, and our crew were all still in bed and doing anything but rising. Eventually we did pull our shit together, but unfortunately Big Sandy levels would have to wait until Monday when it dropped down to under 7 feet, and Krazy described the Top Yough at 1200cfs and rising as somewhat of a suicide mission. After running it at an optimal level of 600cfs the previous season, I trusted his advice and could see how an increase in water level could really crank things up in that tight and technical gorge.
Due to the finicky water levels, we chose to make the pilgrimage to Ohiopyle for the day. Rumors were that the Meadow Run slides which every boater passes when entering Ohiopyle were on the rise. The Full Gnarlz Nation and Boof Sisters were all headed north to see what kind of trouble could be found in Pennsylvania's greatest rivah town. We followed suit after changing plans 8 times and were in our Dirt Bag Dream Machine by 1030 am, with breakfast, coffee, and safety all packed for the road.
After an hour of meandering through the hills of Southwestern Pennsylvania, we descended the final decline into Ohiopyle, crossed the main road, and pulled directly into the parking lot of the Meadow Run slides. When I exited the car the sound of the slides were apparent immediately, which told us it was most likely at a runnable flow. We walked down the short trail and discovered a beautiful low angle, 300 foot slide of water cascading through the trees and dropping into a large swimming hole. There were multiple boaters present, but most were just standing around watching the scene unfold. After spending a few minutes analyzing the drop we determined that the level was at an elf stage, and the crux move had a high tendency to want to face plant boaters into the rock shelf. We reluctantly walked away to leave the move for the young bucks looking for some gnar, and decided a safety enriched lap on the Lower Yough would be just fine for a slow and lazy Sunday.
"Man, it's the same bullshit they tried to pull in my day. If it ain't that piece of paper, there's some other choice they're gonna try and make for you. You gotta do what Randall Pink Floyd wants to do man. Let me tell you this, the older you do get the more rules they're gonna try to get you to follow. You just gotta keep livin' man, L-I-V-I-N."
~Wooderson~
The Ohiopyle scene on a Sunday morning in the heart of the summer will make any true paddler smile. Everyone loves Ohiopyle. How could you not? The parking lot stair steps its way down the side of the ridge line across the street from the rivah, and every gradation is full of cars and trucks stacked with boats of all disciplines, tailgate gatherings full of happy paddlers of all skill levels, and an active put in scene of every kind of whitewater ritual imaginable, all taking place under a warm summer sun. Outfitter Guides stage humorous classes full of bewildered customers sitting in commercial rafts in the middle of a grassy park practicing the proper way to paddle a Class III rivah.................gotta love those custy's. Tourists line the decks overlooking the 30 foot Ohiopyle Falls, curiously watching the boating rituals that resemble a battalion of battle ready soldiers before an EPIC Gladiator style assault. The outfitter shops hum with business, and the restaurants and coffee shops of the quaint little town bustle with conversation and laughter. Yet another perfect rivah scene on another perfect Dirt Bag weekend.
Our crew of Dirt Bag Royals quietly engaged the Forest Ranger for our permission to hit the water, and then found our way down the trail to the rivah. We slid our boats into the Lower Yough with the back drop of Ohiopyle Falls to start the day. Before long we were playfully dancing our way down enjoyable Class II and III rapids, traversing the famous loop section of the LY to start the day. Our crew had added a fourth character to the mix, and he went by the name of Purebeater...........and quite the character he was.
Purebeater is new to the whitewater scene, but has quickly become an accepted beater in the world of the Virginia Dirt Bag Paddlers. He has a certain whit about him that always adds to the never ending ridiculing amongst our shit talking crew. He is fond of booty beers, but even more found of The Island Chronicles and DBP, so we decided to let him stick around................even with his endless barrage of trash talk, he is a quality addition to any squad of Dirt Bags.
We rounded the bend of the loop and dropped into Cucumber and another enjoyable day of quality whitewater. The Lower Yough is a great reprieve from the typical Upper Yough gnar. It is easy whitewater for Class IV-V boaters, but still carries a large amount of quality features, friendly surf waves, and remote and esoteric hardwood forests nestled deep in the hills of Southwestern Pennsylvania. The sun continued to shine and our crew disappeared into the depths of another whitewater rivah on another perfect day.
"Okay guys, one more thing, this summer when you're being inundated with all this American bicentennial Fourth Of July brouhaha, don't forget what you're celebrating, and that's the fact that a bunch of slave-owning, aristocratic, white males didn't want to pay their taxes."
We rounded the bend of the loop and dropped into Cucumber and another enjoyable day of quality whitewater. The Lower Yough is a great reprieve from the typical Upper Yough gnar. It is easy whitewater for Class IV-V boaters, but still carries a large amount of quality features, friendly surf waves, and remote and esoteric hardwood forests nestled deep in the hills of Southwestern Pennsylvania. The sun continued to shine and our crew disappeared into the depths of another whitewater rivah on another perfect day.
"Okay guys, one more thing, this summer when you're being inundated with all this American bicentennial Fourth Of July brouhaha, don't forget what you're celebrating, and that's the fact that a bunch of slave-owning, aristocratic, white males didn't want to pay their taxes."
~Ms. Ginny Stroud~
Gotta give it to Ms. Stroud. She drops some TRUTH right there.
On this day, my heart was heavy but my spirits were high. The Lower Yough held sentimental value for me. I hadn't paddled it in a decade, and the last time I did it was with Marcelle at the end of our rookie season of rivah guiding. It was on that trip that my relationship with Marcelle went from friends to much more than friends all those many years ago. I knew the day would hold a plethora of memories from my former life, however, I intended to honor those memories with another joyous day on the rivah.
Our crew completed the loop and then eddied out on rivah right in a small cove next to a 6 or 7 foot high ledge hidden behind a shrub of Mountain Laurel, creating a perfect outpost for an early afternoon safety meeting. Ranger Dave, Krazy, and myself climbed up to the ledge and hung our feet over the side, allowing the sun to beam down on us directly above a small eddy in the rapid. Once I was settled I realized I had forgotten my dry bag containing my food and water. Purebeater was still attempting to exit his Open Boat and I asked him to toss me my Dry Bag from out of my boat to save me the hassle of climbing back down the ledge . When we attempted to make the fifteen foot toss, he slipped and the bag arched high up in the air, failing to make the fifteen foot distance and landing in the eddy directly below me. It bobbed up and down, creeping closer to the eddy line where it would be swept down stream............this was a problem for me. Purebeater couldn't reach it from his position, and the bag was not within my reach. It contained everything important that I had remaining in the world..........my wallet with all my money, my cell phone and keys, my food and water, and most importantly the pictures of Marlow and Quint that I always keep with me. I had only a few seconds to devise a plan before it was carried downstream, but all I could manage to accomplish was screaming at the bag to stay in the eddy. I had to make a decision quickly, but the height of the ledge was a bit high for me, especially since the landing zone fell on to slick wet rocks just under the water. Finally I bit the bullet and made the decision to make the fall and hope for the best.
As I fell of the ledge, I misjudged my take off and fell sideways, pathetically flailing my arms through the air as I attempted to right myself before hitting the water....................it didn't work. I half belly flopped into the water hard, before sliding down the rock and bouncing off the slick rocks into the eddy, smacking my ass in the process. I now found myself laying in the water, holding my dry bag and wondering if I had just broken my hip. After a split second of self assessment I realized I was intact. When I looked up Krazy and Ranger Dave were literally rolling on the ground laughing at the WALLACE they had just witnessed...................what a couple of dick beaters! I will admit that even though it happened to me, I can imagine how amusing it must have looked to watch me flail through the air. It was an epic FAIL on my part, and their amusement about the situation was more than justified................but like always, I took my beating, dragged my ass out of the rivah, and enjoyed my snack that I had so gracefully saved from the depths of the Lower Yough. Once again I had proven that the WALLACE is strong within me.
~Clint~
The remainder of the day was spent styling easy Class III lines, and enjoying a peaceful float through picturesque pools surrounded by deeply forested landscapes. We fell into the normal rhythm that the rivah always provides, eventually pulling far ahead of the open boating crew we started the day with, and found ourselves isolated on the second half of the run following an extended surf session at Swimmer's Rapid. I have learned from previous experience that paddling easier rivahs with more advanced boaters usually leads to the group pulling far ahead and finishing the day much earlier. It was no different on this day. The conditioning and experience of our crew allowed us to style the LY in a very short time, and we were packed and on the road long before sunset approached from the west. The drive home was basically non-existent for me. I was passed out for most of the trip, and woke up confused as to how we were already back at the Wally World where our trip had begun two days earlier. I rose from my cave in the back seat, packed up my car, thanked the boys for an epic weekend of Dirt Baggin', and was headed east around 11pm.
After shaking the fog out of my eyes and regaining my composure I realized I had no clue where I was headed...........Cville, Beaverdam, or RVA. I also realized that I had no home at that moment and didn't really know where to go. (It was a temporary problem..........long story) Due to these factors I determined that the best course of action was to turn the situation into a positive and Dirt Bag it like a true DB King. I ascended Afton Mountain around midnight, exited onto the Blue Ridge Parkway, drove about 20 minutes down the road, and found a secluded overlook with a short trail down to a beautiful rock outcropping overlooking the Shenandoah Valley. Then I popped my cot out onto a flat surface, threw my sleeping bag down, curled up, and dozed off to sleep under brilliant stars and over the twinkling lights of the valley below..............I slept like a baby.
"You act like you're so oppressed. You guys are kings of the school. What are you bitching about?"
~Simone~
I arose just before the sun peaked out over the mountains to the east. I was packed up and on the road within 15 minutes. As I drove back towards the Interstate, snaking along the spine of the Blue Ridge Mountains, a thick fog began to rise off the ridges and the golden rays of sunshine began to break through the clouds in the east. When they did, the fog lit on fire, turning a brilliant orange and pink, revealing the lush green Rockfish Valley nestled deep within the Virginia landscape far below. The scene was truly breathtaking. I stopped at the first available overlook and just sat in the early morning silence, with a clear mind and a sense of true peace. The beauty that I witnessed in front of me truly captured my soul, and as I gazed out into the distance, a single tear rolled down my cheek. Part of that tear contained the pain of missing M and Q, who were somewhere out there beyond that valley, quietly sleeping warm and safe in their beds.
But my tear also contained happiness..............I was content with joy in my heart because of the beauty I was witnessing, and I was content because of the experiences of the weekend and the memories that were shared. That tear contained happiness because I knew that this life had allowed me to experience beauty that is unique in this modern world. I knew I was able to experience true freedom. That tear represented a perfect analogy for my current existence.............a unique contrast between the best of times and the worst of times. I do live with a heavy amount of pain deep within my heart, and it is present every moment of every day. But little by little, day by day, my heart fills back up with love..........love for my friends, love for the rivah, and love for life. Although the boys exist solely within my memories during these times, they also exist deep within my heart, and at that moment the love I was experiencing was love that can only come from the heart of a father. We truly live in a beautiful world with beautiful people, and slowly but surely, I am discovering that beauty again...................and one day I will share it with the two little people who will help me find my way home..........my sons.
~Don~
See ya on the rivah.............hopefully doing it the best I can while stuck in this place. PEACE
