For a Table of Contents to The Island Chronicles, please click here.
Part II: WALLACE at Wood's, Goat Testicles, and The Mexican Brown
Part II: WALLACE at Wood's, Goat Testicles, and The Mexican Brown
~Renton; Trainspotting~
Deep in the heart of the West By God wilderness, far away from the cities and politics and bureaucracy of the world, a group of everyday Dirt Bag Paddlers convened around a small squirt boating cabin in the heart of the Gauley wilderness, confabulating the viewpoints of the Dirt Bag World, deliberating the available lines of Pillow and Lost Paddle, and embodying the TRUTH of the whitewater lifestyle. We were rejoicing in the successes of Day 1 of our Whitewater Jihad. We already traveled from the suburbs of western DC to the hollars of the Savage, knocked out two laps of whitewater, and then continued on to the depths of the Gauley Gorge, all in a span of fifteen hours. Now we prepared for an introductory day on the Gauley, one in which Lil' Rook would be baptized in the waters of the grand daddy of them all. She exhibited quite the confidence when demonstrating her excitement for the following day. My experiences with whitewater allowed me to see through this deceptive facade......the TRUTH was, Lil' Rook was completely clueless about the undertaking she was about to have, and I knew she needed to have someone ease it in for her gently................I don't think that came out correctly. Anywho, as we regaled throughout the night, I made the decision to have our group descend the Lower Gauley as opposed to the Upper to assist Lil' Rook in her sanctification of the West By God TRUTH. Now I just needed to figure out a way to tell the group. Egos run rampant within the whitewater world, as The IC has discussed before, and I knew egos would play a part in my decision to stick with the Lower Gauley, but I didn't care. Lil' Rook was NOT ready for the Upper.
As we continued to feast on the plentiful delights of our safety session, I decided to talk with Lil Rook about running the Lower, however, I quickly discovered that she was nowhere to be found...............the disappearance of Lil' Rook would become a re-occurring theme for the week. Given our conversation from the previous night, it did not take long for me to put two and two together and figure out what was happening. Once she returned to the assemblage I carefully observed her behaviors. In a short amount of time I concluded that she was whacked out of her skull on heroin..........I wasn't the only one in the room to make this conclusion. I decided to keep the escalating situation to myself for the sanctity of the group. However, I grew more and more concerned about the position she had placed me in, seeing that I had now rolled through three states with heroin in my car.
Of course Lil Rook had assured me that she was on detoxification medicine and would never be holding any of the Mexican Brown while riding shotgun. It was at this point that I made a conclusion that would stick with me for the remainder of my tenure with Lil Rook...............she was a fucking junkie liar and had no intentions of kicking her habit. However, I wasn't going to let this small bump in the road dictate the outcome of our Whitewater Jihad. I settled in for the evening, continued to examine the subject of rivah safety, and lionized the successes of Day 1.
“Good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment.”
~Rita Mae Brown~
The following morning our group of Dirt Bag Miscreants departed The Cabin later than our scheduled plans, which helped seal our fate to the Lower Gauley for the day. It takes the water time to reach the Lower, so truly hungover paddlers always have a second option for a missed run on the Upper. We devoured our first of many Hico Exxon breakfasts, and found ourselves on the West By God back roads by noon setting our shuttle. The Lower Gauley is a long shuttle, and for some reason it often results in unique encounters with West By God locals (like gun totting crazed hillbilly's and the occasional bull)...........this day was no different.
We exited the take out from Swiss after dropping the car and headed up the road, but we were quickly halted by construction workers stating that the road would be closed for the next 20 to 30 minutes for tree trimming. Considering there was only one way in and one way out, we found this to be a bit of a problem. Behind our car sat a truck with two rare paddling characters..............West By God locals. It is not common for the locals of the area to paddle, but when they do, they are usually some of the more colorful characters you will ever encounter on the rivah.............these two were definitely that.
We hopped out of our cars to talk with our fellow hard boaters, and one introduced himself as "Bear"............a West By God local paddler named Bear?............EPIC. Whatever you are picturing Bear to look like, that is how he looked, because he truly exemplified his name properly. After a few minutes of conversation, we all became impatient. That was the point that Bear decided to take matters into his own hands. He hopped back in his truck, whistled for us to follow him, and turned around to find an "alternative route". This left me with a decision to make..............continue to wait for the road to clear, or follow a West By God local named Bear on his own "alternative route" through no name back roads.........as always, I chose the riskier option. Within a matter of minutes, I found myself driving down a thin layer of gravel between the actual railroad tracks and a straight drop off into the depths of the Gauley. This alternative route was working out just fine for a while. However, the thin layer of gravel that paved our way was quickly becoming more and more narrow, squeezing my non four wheel drive Mercury Sable into a rather tight slot between the rails of the actual tracks and a very lose and collapsing rivah bank dropping straight into the Gauley.................needless to say this was a sketchy situation. I decided to persevere and stick it out. Eventually I cut it so close that I almost popped a tire on the side of the rail while simultaneously putting my opposite tire halfway over the edge of the drop off. I dealt with Lil Rook on one side of the car yelling at me to go further right, and John Denver on the other side of the car yelling at me to go further left.................needless to say the situation was rather stressful. In the end, I barely squeezed it out, but successfully developed a slow leak in my tire that took a month to fix...................figures.
“I had been afraid of the awful presence of the river, which was the soul of the river, but through her I learned that my spirit shared in the spirit of all things.”
~Rudolfo Anaya~
We exited the take out from Swiss after dropping the car and headed up the road, but we were quickly halted by construction workers stating that the road would be closed for the next 20 to 30 minutes for tree trimming. Considering there was only one way in and one way out, we found this to be a bit of a problem. Behind our car sat a truck with two rare paddling characters..............West By God locals. It is not common for the locals of the area to paddle, but when they do, they are usually some of the more colorful characters you will ever encounter on the rivah.............these two were definitely that.
We hopped out of our cars to talk with our fellow hard boaters, and one introduced himself as "Bear"............a West By God local paddler named Bear?............EPIC. Whatever you are picturing Bear to look like, that is how he looked, because he truly exemplified his name properly. After a few minutes of conversation, we all became impatient. That was the point that Bear decided to take matters into his own hands. He hopped back in his truck, whistled for us to follow him, and turned around to find an "alternative route". This left me with a decision to make..............continue to wait for the road to clear, or follow a West By God local named Bear on his own "alternative route" through no name back roads.........as always, I chose the riskier option. Within a matter of minutes, I found myself driving down a thin layer of gravel between the actual railroad tracks and a straight drop off into the depths of the Gauley. This alternative route was working out just fine for a while. However, the thin layer of gravel that paved our way was quickly becoming more and more narrow, squeezing my non four wheel drive Mercury Sable into a rather tight slot between the rails of the actual tracks and a very lose and collapsing rivah bank dropping straight into the Gauley.................needless to say this was a sketchy situation. I decided to persevere and stick it out. Eventually I cut it so close that I almost popped a tire on the side of the rail while simultaneously putting my opposite tire halfway over the edge of the drop off. I dealt with Lil Rook on one side of the car yelling at me to go further right, and John Denver on the other side of the car yelling at me to go further left.................needless to say the situation was rather stressful. In the end, I barely squeezed it out, but successfully developed a slow leak in my tire that took a month to fix...................figures.
“I had been afraid of the awful presence of the river, which was the soul of the river, but through her I learned that my spirit shared in the spirit of all things.”
~Rudolfo Anaya~
We finally put on the Middle Gauley mid afternoon, however, I mistakenly put us on at Masons Branch, increasing our paddling trip even further.............these things tend to happen after a late night at the cabin. The upside to this mistake was that we were able to run Woods Ferry, an easy but large rapid with a strange but viscous slot hole at its exit. In retrospect.........Shredder Aaron and Lil' Rook probably wish we had put in below Woods Ferry, because once again this dynamic duo delivered a WALLACE worthy performance to start the afternoon.
The final move in Woods Ferry requires passing to the right side of a large, boat muchin' hole and then darting quickly left to avoid broaching on a broad flat rock that collects a large amount of water. The character of this feature tends to sit lethargic boats on top of it, before dumping them over the left side into an extremely deep slot known for folding rafts in half and spitting them out into a yard sale of gear and bodies..................that pretty much describes exactly what happened to Lil' Rook and Shredder Aaron. I pulled into the eddy directly beside the slot, knowing that the rapid produced a descent amount of carnage and I could be rewarded with some early entertainment from a front row seat. This vantage point gave me the perfect view as I witnessed Lil' Rook actually become folded up inside the Shredder as it taco'd, before being violently flung deep into the pocket of the slot.....................WELCOME TO THE GAULEY LITTLE GIRL!
We assisted in scraping up the carnage of Woods Ferry, working our way down rivah, and stomping out Backender, before finding ourselves in the pool above Koontz Flume, one of the largest rapids of the Lower. I looked at Lil' Rook and told her to enjoy the ride, because she was about to experience REAL whitewater. We dropped into the main flow, styling the wide line between two boat munching holes and slipping into the pool below the rapid. I glanced at Lil' Rook after the run, asking her how she enjoyed the ride. She responded that Koontz was A LOT bigger than she thought it would be. Her eyes were rather wide when she made the statement...........exactly as I had thought. Like I stated earlier, she was NOT ready for the Upper Gauley, regardless of what she thought. Rookies are always a lot more bark than they are bite...........ALWAYS!
We continued down rivah for the remainder of the late day run with no further WALLACE worthy performances. I did notice that Lil' Rook was rather quiet throughout the ride with Shredder Aaron. It dawned on me at the end of the day that her rather sluggish performance throughout the day was most likely due to the large amount of heroin she had injected into her body the night before and the following morning....................yes, Lil' Rook was shooting up before putting onto the Gauley. This ride truly had become a game of Fear and Loathing in West By God.
My observations also allowed me to conclude that Shredder Aaron, based on the look on his face, was over his shotgun riding junkie. What I did not pick up on was the fact that Lil' Rook spent the day nodding out in Aaron's Shredder. This piece of information is what really transitioned my thinking from "how do I help this girl" to "how much of a liability is this girl"..............but I made a decision and was determined to stick it out and allow the beauty of whitewater to save a lost soul. We completed our run close to dark and after accomplishing the rather lengthy shuttle ride without any further delays or shenanigans, we were headed back to the cabin very late. Shredder Aaron decided to take the long way home, becoming terribly lost in Summersville and failing to locate the Hico Exxon for close to 2 hours. I am still not sure how it is possible to get lost in a town with only one road, but at that point I was exhausted and ready to crash hard for the night.................and that was exactly what I did.
“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”
~Edgar Allan Poe~
We assisted in scraping up the carnage of Woods Ferry, working our way down rivah, and stomping out Backender, before finding ourselves in the pool above Koontz Flume, one of the largest rapids of the Lower. I looked at Lil' Rook and told her to enjoy the ride, because she was about to experience REAL whitewater. We dropped into the main flow, styling the wide line between two boat munching holes and slipping into the pool below the rapid. I glanced at Lil' Rook after the run, asking her how she enjoyed the ride. She responded that Koontz was A LOT bigger than she thought it would be. Her eyes were rather wide when she made the statement...........exactly as I had thought. Like I stated earlier, she was NOT ready for the Upper Gauley, regardless of what she thought. Rookies are always a lot more bark than they are bite...........ALWAYS!
We continued down rivah for the remainder of the late day run with no further WALLACE worthy performances. I did notice that Lil' Rook was rather quiet throughout the ride with Shredder Aaron. It dawned on me at the end of the day that her rather sluggish performance throughout the day was most likely due to the large amount of heroin she had injected into her body the night before and the following morning....................yes, Lil' Rook was shooting up before putting onto the Gauley. This ride truly had become a game of Fear and Loathing in West By God.
My observations also allowed me to conclude that Shredder Aaron, based on the look on his face, was over his shotgun riding junkie. What I did not pick up on was the fact that Lil' Rook spent the day nodding out in Aaron's Shredder. This piece of information is what really transitioned my thinking from "how do I help this girl" to "how much of a liability is this girl"..............but I made a decision and was determined to stick it out and allow the beauty of whitewater to save a lost soul. We completed our run close to dark and after accomplishing the rather lengthy shuttle ride without any further delays or shenanigans, we were headed back to the cabin very late. Shredder Aaron decided to take the long way home, becoming terribly lost in Summersville and failing to locate the Hico Exxon for close to 2 hours. I am still not sure how it is possible to get lost in a town with only one road, but at that point I was exhausted and ready to crash hard for the night.................and that was exactly what I did.
“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”
~Edgar Allan Poe~
We awoke on Day 3 prepared for an afternoon of travel and reorganization for the upcoming week. Our original plan was to drop John Denver with a friend who would head back north, while Lil' Rook and I headed East, straight to RVA for a few days of James Rivah paddling and for an instructional kayaking class to allow me the opportunity to replenish my funds. However, Lil' Rook insisted on heading North towards her hometown. One of my pet peeves while on road trips is changing the itinerary mid trip..................apparently Lil' Rook missed that memo because she constantly attempted to change the plan. It did not take me long to conclude that she was out of smack and beginning to withdraw. My original thoughts were to take her strung out ass to RVA anyway and make her deal with the withdrawals, however, I folded quickly to her continuous whining and decided to head North, taking John Denver home as well. Before leaving The Cabin that morning both John Denver and Shredder Aaron took me for a walk and safety session behind the cabin while the remainder of the crew packed up. On the safety walk both gave me their opinions of the situation and how I should handle the remainder of the trip...................both agreed it was a very bad idea to keep Lil Rook as my sidekick. John Denver had direct experience dealing with friends hooked on heroin, and stated that a junkie can never be trusted and will eventually fuck everyone over in order to get their fix................Shredder Aaron agreed. Both friends left me with plenty to contemplate on the ride North.
Our Dirt Bag caravan crept out of the depths of the Gauley Gorge toward the rewards of breakfast at the Hico Exxon................again. When we pulled into the parking lot there was a rather strange situation developing. A goat was standing in the middle of the parking lot............a REAL goat, just standing there, in the middle of a gas station parking lot. It was the strangest sight, but then again, this is West By God. One of my favorite Exxon employees, Chrystal, had strapped a belt around the goats neck and was attempting to persuade the little girl to go home...................the goat was having none of it and refusing to move. Our crew jumped right out and offered to help solve the developing situation...........after all, I was experienced in dealing with farm animals of all types (long story) and who wouldn't want to walk a goat home.............so that is EXACTLY what we did. We walked the goat home. We were told it was pregnant and it did look like it was about to drop a litter in the middle of the parking lot. However, we came to find out that not only was it not pregnant, but it also possessed a pair of testicles, making it very difficult for baby goats to be created within...........turns out the poor little guy had simply eaten too much and was extremely bloated.........so bloated in fact he was having trouble moving. We attempted to push him up a steep hill, resulting in a strong amount of LOSING on our part and on the goats part. Eventually we walked our new friend all the way down and around the hill before managing to get him home. His owner was very thankful for his return, and we were content seeing that we had completed our good deed for the day and helped save a bloated, apathetic, ornery billy goat...................WINNING!
"This was to be my final hit, but let's be clear about this. There's final hits and final hits. What kind was this to be?"
 |
| Me, John Denver and some goat testicles |
"This was to be my final hit, but let's be clear about this. There's final hits and final hits. What kind was this to be?"
~Renton; Trainspotting~
After our ritualistic morning breakfast at Exxon, our group parted ways, ending the first leg of our journey, the infamous Whitewater Jihad. John Denver, Lil' Rook, and myself all headed North for rest, recuperation, and unfortunately a hidden re-up. We returned to Lil Rooks house late in the afternoon and John Denver split faster than green grass through a goose. Lil' Rook slept the entire car ride back and admitted that she was starting to feel sick from withdrawing. I didn't feel sorry for her in the least, but I promised myself I would help her out any way I could.
Over the course of the evening she slowly became sicker and sicker and simply laid on the floor trying to rest while I watched TV. She admitted that she did not have any detox medicine, but her father had helped set her up for an appointment with a doctor on Friday and she would be able to medicate herself if she could hold out until then.............it became quickly evident what was going to happen. She was going to be buying more smack. I also realized that this once again put me in a very unfair position seeing that I was her driver for the journey.
As the night wore on Lil' Rook sweated, moaned, curled up in a fetal position, and basically mimicked the same behaviors as someone with the Noro Virus. I sat there observing and pondering why anyone would ever want to put something in their body that not only destroyed their soul the way it was exhibiting, but also devastated their life. Lil' Rook had left a trail of destruction behind her in every place she had been, including her summer outfitter. It was a sad and unfortunate display by someone so young and with so much potential. That night I viewed Lil' Rook as a victim, not of the drug and not of the system, but a victim of herself. She was destroying everything she ever had the opportunity to be, and she didn't even have the will to want to change.
Around 4am the phone rang and Lil' Rook picked it up. Within 30 seconds she was off the phone, demonstrating life for the first time in hours, and asking me for a ride...................now putting me in the exact position that I feared being caught in. Think about it. What would you do? Let's just say I am not cut out for the tough love standpoint in parenting. I resent Lil' Rook for a lot of the positions she placed me in over the two weeks of our journey, but none more than the position she cornered me in that night. What's done is done, but I certainly gained valuable experience from the situation and will NEVER be manipulated in that manner again.
The next two days were full of an immense amount of bull shit, manipulation, 12 hour heroin binges, and a much needed break from Lil' Rook and her smack head antics. We traveled back to RVA and I attempted to give her a private kayak lesson on a low water James. The lesson started out rough, but once Lil' Rook ran a rapid or two, the smile returned to her face, her personality blossomed, and the girl I knew existed inside her started to show. Never underestimate the power of kayaking. She gave me a big hug when we parted ways at the takeout, and she was given a 24 hour pass to do whatever she wanted without me having to know. I spent the time visiting friends and resupplying my funds, which were scraping by throughout the journey.
“When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw.”
~Nelson Mandela~
After our ritualistic morning breakfast at Exxon, our group parted ways, ending the first leg of our journey, the infamous Whitewater Jihad. John Denver, Lil' Rook, and myself all headed North for rest, recuperation, and unfortunately a hidden re-up. We returned to Lil Rooks house late in the afternoon and John Denver split faster than green grass through a goose. Lil' Rook slept the entire car ride back and admitted that she was starting to feel sick from withdrawing. I didn't feel sorry for her in the least, but I promised myself I would help her out any way I could.
Over the course of the evening she slowly became sicker and sicker and simply laid on the floor trying to rest while I watched TV. She admitted that she did not have any detox medicine, but her father had helped set her up for an appointment with a doctor on Friday and she would be able to medicate herself if she could hold out until then.............it became quickly evident what was going to happen. She was going to be buying more smack. I also realized that this once again put me in a very unfair position seeing that I was her driver for the journey.
As the night wore on Lil' Rook sweated, moaned, curled up in a fetal position, and basically mimicked the same behaviors as someone with the Noro Virus. I sat there observing and pondering why anyone would ever want to put something in their body that not only destroyed their soul the way it was exhibiting, but also devastated their life. Lil' Rook had left a trail of destruction behind her in every place she had been, including her summer outfitter. It was a sad and unfortunate display by someone so young and with so much potential. That night I viewed Lil' Rook as a victim, not of the drug and not of the system, but a victim of herself. She was destroying everything she ever had the opportunity to be, and she didn't even have the will to want to change.
Around 4am the phone rang and Lil' Rook picked it up. Within 30 seconds she was off the phone, demonstrating life for the first time in hours, and asking me for a ride...................now putting me in the exact position that I feared being caught in. Think about it. What would you do? Let's just say I am not cut out for the tough love standpoint in parenting. I resent Lil' Rook for a lot of the positions she placed me in over the two weeks of our journey, but none more than the position she cornered me in that night. What's done is done, but I certainly gained valuable experience from the situation and will NEVER be manipulated in that manner again.
The next two days were full of an immense amount of bull shit, manipulation, 12 hour heroin binges, and a much needed break from Lil' Rook and her smack head antics. We traveled back to RVA and I attempted to give her a private kayak lesson on a low water James. The lesson started out rough, but once Lil' Rook ran a rapid or two, the smile returned to her face, her personality blossomed, and the girl I knew existed inside her started to show. Never underestimate the power of kayaking. She gave me a big hug when we parted ways at the takeout, and she was given a 24 hour pass to do whatever she wanted without me having to know. I spent the time visiting friends and resupplying my funds, which were scraping by throughout the journey.
“When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw.”
~Nelson Mandela~
Day 6.................ahhh yes, the famous Day 6! Day 6 is one of those days that for the most part falls under the category "never happened" as far as The Island Chronicles are concerned. I started the day sitting at the infamous Fourteenth Street Takeout early in the morning, waiting for Lil' Rook to be delivered back to me for Round 2 of our whitewater pilgrimage. Lil Rook and I had discussed the situation together and agreed that we were both at our limit of bailing on the agreement, but we also concluded that we both had something to gain..................she needed help, as well as the fact that she had been given an immense opportunity as a Rookie paddler that does not come along very often. I needed her company for the drive, her money for gas, and her friendship for the journey. We had enjoyed a lot of moments together over the course of the first week, as well as dealing with a lot of disagreements. So after serious contemplation, and the promise that she was attending her doctors appointment and would take detox medicine, we both agreed to give the situation a second attempt. We did what we do best, which was develop a plan of action.
Our starting point was RVA early in the morning with half a tank of gas, very little money, not much food, and a 1pm doctors appointment for Lil Rook near DC. Our end of the day goal and ultimate destination was Piney Mountain Campground near the put in to the Upper Yough in far Western Maryland, hopefully with a pocket full of cash, plenty of food, and no warrants out for our arrest.........................our plan was a success. That is about all I can say. The day involved a military base that I discussed safety on, myself completely freaking out with paranoia, a shady ass Walmart Parking Lot, a goat eating Lil Rooks hair, Lil' Rook exhibiting some serious street smarts and proving that at times she was a bad ass little bitch, and a grand in cash. By midnight that night we found ourselves sleeping soundly at Piney Mountain Campground, ready for a week of truly EPIC adventures. If you have enjoyed the story to this point, then get ready, because this tail is about to hit overdrive................DBP is about to enter the Thunderdome, and shit truly hits the fan!
~Ansel Adams~
See ya on the rivah.................with a bit more wisdom than I had before. TRUTH
