Round 5: The Story (The Space Between)

“A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her.”
                                                        ~Oscar Wilde~



  Life #3 - The Space Between. Marcelle and I led two very different lifestyles while living outside of Brevard, but our interests, our way of life, and our passion for the outdoors were always comparable. However, we demonstrated that passion in our own, unique way. Remember, during the times that The Epic Worthlessness that is Man was engaging in the multiple shenanigans that accompanied the lifestyle, Marcelle was living her own dream even deeper in the vast wilderness of WNC. Her days were spent on trail dealing with the hoods of the woods, dodging falling branches while stuck deep in the forest during the epic WNC ice storms that seemed to only hit while she was on trail, and testing her wealth of classroom knowledge with students she grew to love and admire. I was always proud of Marcelle's accomplishments in WNC, and was always supportive of the career she had chosen, regardless of the fact that it took a majority of time away from our relationship..................remember what I just said.
   The space that existed between our two lives is where Marcelle and I would always find a way into one another's heart, and the adventures that were produced in that space were always epic. We tested each other to a far greater degree than we ever tested ourselves. We moved to Brevard in 2005 and both of us had spent the years prior to the move, building ourselves into top physical form through multiple nights of premier league soccer, weekends pushing rubber on the low water James (which will make you very strong, much-more-so than any high water summer will), and the constant challenge of pushing each other to be that much more complete. Marcelle and I had spent a lifetime playing a very high level of soccer, and we both had a fierce competitive streak within us. When we moved to Brevard, our fitness level combined with our fiery competitive streaks forced us to not only push each other in the adventures we chose, but also prevented either of us from backing down to the challenges of the other.................this mentality also produced a very intense relationship to be built between the two of us, but at times I question if it also tore us apart.
   

“Real learning comes about when the competitive spirit has ceased.”
~Jiddu Krishnamurti~


  There are once again hundreds of stories that could be told to exemplify this consistent competition that existed, but it was when we saw things eye to eye that we were always at our best. I stated in a previous post that Marcelle and I were a good hire for USA Raft because we came as a two for one deal. This was very important to our manager, because on weekends when Marcelle was off trail we were able to travel to Hot Springs together to make some extra cash guiding. Any rafting manager will tell you, it is a tremendous benefit to be able to make one phone call and secure two highly qualified raft guides at once for a trip. Due to this set up, it was not long before Marcelle and I were being selected for the top trips of the day, and we were selected for those trips by the top trip leaders of the company. One of those leaders was a man named T.J., and in all my years of guiding, paddling, and traveling, T.J. was probably the most colorful character to ever cross my path.
   When I first met T.J. he seemed to be a quiet, down to earth, veteran rivah guide in his mid 40's. He was a big man, standing around 6 foot 3, with a grey goatee and a Sean Connery style profile. He spent a solid 20 years guiding the Upper G during Gauley season, and possessed the stories to back that experience. He was knowledgeable on and off the rivah, an outstanding leader, and he loved to guide with Marcelle and I. We always secured private, three boat trips full of the kind of custy's that loved to tip. Seniority allowed T.J. to always have first dibs on trips, so he always chose the best. He also had first dibs on guides, in which he also chose the best, Marcelle and I. (yes, my ego is speaking. If I am sitting in the guide hole of a raft, it always will. I know what I do well) Our trips ran smooth as butter, every time. The key to a rivah trip is to push quickly and smoothly down rivah, all the while keeping custy's entertained so they don't notice the pace they are moving. Rookies have a habit of being slow, sticking their boats in the rocks, pinning, and sometimes flipping, producing a yard sale through every rapid......................in short, rookies suck, and slow trips down. I would always run the lead boat to set a pace, Marcelle would follow right behind me, and T.J. would bring up the rear in order to sweep up any carnage that we left behind. (which only happened when we wanted it to happen) This set up produced a record setting pace to our trips, allowing us to flip doubles on a daily basis and rake in some serious weekend cash. Marcelle, T.J. and I became experts at how to get it done quickly, smoothly, and we always left our custy's with smiles on their faces!
   You are probably asking yourself why T.J. was the most colorful character to ever cross my path during my whitewater adventures. Well, like me, T.J. possessed the complexity of his own double life. On one side, T.J. was as hardcore as they came, flipping boats on the rapids of the Gauley, partaking in late night moonshine fiasco's, and leading the next generation of dirt bag kayakers through endless whitewater adventures. On the other side, however, T.J. possessed a unique quality to his life that very few people ever have the courage to explore.
   T.J. owned the largest nightclub in Asheville, a three story boarded up mansion named Scandals. From the outside, you would have never known the spot contained some of the wildest debauchery this side of the French Broad. But once you entered, you were perplexed by the contents of this hidden fortress of seduction and depravity. Scandals drew every kind of party seeking miscreant hidden in WNC. Be it gay or straight, black or white, drag or authentic, everyone who entered Scandals was walking into a kaleidoscope of culture and alternative lifestyle. T.J. was a smart business man and knew that hiring employees from the drag and gay communities was not a wise idea considering the activities that commenced at the club. As T.J. put it, "Queens are full of too much drama." Due to this, the driving security force of Scandals consisted of out of work rivah guides and dirt bag kayaking bums. This was a genius business move on T.J.'s part, and led to very little trouble in the club.
   It was how T.J. came to own this kingdom of corruption that makes him so colorful. In the late eighties and throughout the nineties, T.J. traveled the world as one of the most famous Drag Queens of his era...........his name was Aurora Borealis.
   

Aurora Borealis during the height of his career in 1995

    

   Yes everyone, the picture above is a man, and not only that, it is a hard ass rivah guide who didn't fuck around when it came to pushin' rubber or keeping custy's in line. The first time I attended a night out at Scandals, I passed by a trophy case full of history of Aurora Borealis and his "days on the road". While looking over the contents of the case, I remember coming across the picture above, and not knowing who or what it was, turned to Marcelle and stated in a drunken stupor, "Look at her. She's hot."..................Marcelle went years without letting me live that one down, but in all honesty, how could I have known. The transformation is remarkable.


“It's a sort of piss-take on culture, because a drag queen is a clown - a parody of our society. It's a sarcastic spoof on culture, which allows us to laugh at ourselves - but in a way that is inclusive of everyone.”
                                                               ~RuPaul~

   Marcelle and I were not frequent visitors of Scandals. Not only did we live in the stix, but we also remained very diverse in our activities and travels during our days in WNC, so a night at Scandals was usually a planned date that included dinner in "the city" followed by the midnight show at the club. Marcelle loved Scandals and was always excited to see a show. It says a lot about a relationship when your date nights include drag shows. Because of our connection with the club, we were always invited to the VIP Lounge and Scandals always made sure we were shown a good time. (In re-reading that last sentence I realize it could mean a variety of things..........don't let your imaginations get the best of you. The VIP Lounge and Champagne Room are NOT the same thing, especially in the Drag Club.)
   I loved taking Marcelle to the shows because she loved the environment, and seeing her happy made me happy. I will never forget the one night my drag club experience got the best of me though. Marcelle and I and a few other friends were partaking in a rather wild night of shots before a midnight show that featured a Drag King. This was a concept that was new to me. A Drag King is exactly what you think it is...........a woman dressed up as a man. When she appeared on stage it was obvious that she had nailed the look.............black leather jacket, sideburns, and an over the top rugged manner that she flaunted to the colorfully divergent crowd. However, after a few minutes on stage I noticed that the featured king was returning to perform for Marcelle again and again, and the look that she/he was giving my girlfriend and future wife was not one that was making me feel inordinately pleased . You have to understand how confusing this was for me................I didn't know if I was supposed to kick his ass or encourage the charade in the hope that I could witness something undoubtedly unique. I mean, what is a man supposed to do when a drag king starts scoping out his own girlfriend. The situation was distressingly uncomfortable for me, so I retreated to the VIP room for a safety talk with one of the security guards and fellow boaters. For the remainder of the evening, I kept a very close eye on that cunning little miscreant, and made sure whenever she was close to Marcelle, so was I. I learned an important lesson that night that I carry with me to this day.....................if something seems a bit askew, it most likely is, so whatever you do trust in your own instincts and don't ever trust a Drag King. They just cross too many lines of peculiar irregularity for me..................but I was walking a fine line on this night. How would I ever explain to anyone that I was justified in engaging in a brawl with a woman dressed up as a man because he/she was propositioning my girlfriend? I couldn't. I just had to deal with it. I think that night scarred me for life.  

“Morals are nothing but a civilized society’s attempt to tame the beast called man.”
                                                 ~Mokokoma Mokhonoana~

   The late night experiences produced by Marcelle and I were small potatoes compared to the experiences we engaged in throughout the backwoods of WNC.  We utilized the time between 2005 and 2008 well, and immersed ourselves into the growing outdoor culture of the area.  In the Fall of 2005, after we first arrived in the Asheville area, we attended The Green Race.  For those of you who do not boat, The Green Race is the most revered competition in whitewater kayaking and the greatest show in sports.  Many accounts have been written describing The Green Race, so I will steal from others to explain this day in a nutshell................

  "No doubt the single most famous, most respected, and most competitive creek race on the planet, the annual Green Race remains a fabulous and homespun little affair held each Fall on the steepest section of Western North Carolina's Green River Narrows. Local boaters train here for much of the year due to the reliable flows, and people come from literally around the world to compete. More than five hundred friends and family members either hike or paddle in to watch and cheer on every racer, scattering themselves along the river's boulders and bedrock near the photogenic signature rapid called Gorilla -- a.k.a. "The Monkey" -- heart and soul of the entire run.
   Looming larger than life in any paddler's mind, the Green Race is -- save for a few individuals -- largely not about winning. It's more about having clean lines and a safe run, making a personal best time, beating (or losing to) a friend by a few seconds, and simply participating in such a unique event and the fine community that surrounds it all. And yet to date, in eighteen years, with perhaps several thousand people having navigated and portaged themselves down the Green in total, only 539 people have ever entered the race."
                                                          ~John Pilson~

**** Follow this link for a more detailed explanation of The Green Race.****

   The Green Race is special for any true kayaker, regardless of whether or not you have ever raced.   If you have attended or competed in the race then you know why.  It is a magical day, set in a magical place. However, in recent years, The Green Race has been infected by the same plague that infects the RVA boating community, or most any boating community for that matter..............the ignorance of the masses.  The sport of kayaking is growing, and unfortunately the increase in numbers brings an increase in stupidity.  These days the gorge is overcrowded on race day with spectators tearing down the mountainside, destroying the vegetation and trails as they descend into the gorge.  Worse yet, the race is quickly developing a reputation of being the greatest 'shit show' on earth, with many boaters entering the affair who are not skilled enough to race.  This small example on race day demonstrates a larger problem as a whole for the sport of kayaking............boaters running things they are not ready to run.  The competition aspect of the RVA paddling scene perpetuates this problem, creating scenes like the infamous Dumb Ass on the Log.................my conclusion.  Kayaking was never meant to become popular.  Its cloistered existence among extreme sports is what gives it so much charm.  As the numbers increase, the magic that makes our sport what it is will begin to fade............I can only hope that my theory here is wrong.

   Due to this problem, our attendance at The Green Race in 2005 now holds a special place in my heart.  Marcelle and I hiked into the gorge early on the morning of the race, and spent the day exploring the rapids of the Monster Mile, watching boater after boater descend the rivah that I idolized at the time.  I never thought I would become good enough to descend that rivah, but in 2007 I would prove myself wrong. 

   2005 was still early enough to allow the charm, homegrown feel, and originality of The Green Race to shine, and I soaked up every minute of the day.  My favorite paddler, Tommy Hilleke, a six time Green Race champion, won his last race of his career on that day, and I sat with Marcelle next to Gorilla, watching him boof into history.  Everything about the day was captivating...............the people, the forest, the rapids, the boaters, the community, and the archaic existence it still held.  I was proud that I was able to experience it with Marcelle, and was able to see the tail end of "the good ole days."  She and I truly loved the experience, and there is no one else in the world that I would have wanted to experience it with.  We returned to the race in 2006 but witnessed a scene that had changed entirely.  The crowds were thicker, the boaters were less skilled, and the feel of the day was just not there.  I swore after that day that I would never attend a Green Race again, content to hold the memory of the 2005 race forever in my heart. 

“Time ripens all things; no man is born wise.”
                      ~Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra~   

   The space between our two lives contained endless adventures that were only shared by Marcelle and I, and would have never meant so much if they hadn't been experienced together. We once hiked 27 miles of the Black Mountain Crest Trail and the nightmarish side trail in 24 hours, which included camping in consistent 60 mile per hour winds throughout the night, a 3.5 mile climb that changed in elevation by a little under 4000 feet, massive blow downs that we had to climb over and crawl through, and every conceivable weather pattern possible within a 24 hour period. I still remember to this day I have never felt weakness in my legs like I did on the final mile of that hike. T, the dog, literally attempted to give up on us at times. He simply sat under a tree in the pouring rain refusing to move..........and he was one tough dog. We traversed from the bottom of The Big East Fork to the top of Shining Rock in record time, climbing about 3500 feet in 3 miles. However, we did end up lost in the woods at one point, so we had to hike further than anticipated. That climb was one of the toughest hikes I have ever made, but the experience of reaching the top with Marcelle was triumphant. I paddled the Upper Green with Marcelle, watching her style Bayless Boof in a 10.5 foot Occee Canoe, and then carried the damn thing half a mile up the mountain after the run. I was determined to see her drop that rapid, and the pride I had at the time was unmatched. My girlfriend was a bad ass, but was also the sweetest, most caring woman I had or have ever met. Again, whether looking at it back then or today, there is no one I would have rather experienced any of these successes with, and I hold no regrets. It was on top of those ridge lines, deep in the gorges, and under those stars that I found my soul mate, and it was there that I discovered the love of my life.
   What happened to Marcelle and I in the end is in no way short of a tragedy, a tragedy that I induced. We created moments of perfection during our time together, and it is those moments I will always hold close to my heart. The perfection of those moments did not exist anymore so then when we found each other in the space between our two lives. As I write this story I continue to learn more and more about myself, and continue to understand why it is that this had to happen. The next few posts are going to be turning a corner, and there is some true heartbreak just around that corner. It saddens me to come to the end of this post, because the stories I have written lately contain some of the happiest times of my life...............not because we were young, wild, and free, and not because we were tearing through the backwoods of the WNC outdoor scene, but because we did it all with one another by our side, and we did it all together.

“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”
                                        ~Dr. Seuss~

   Damn, that one is hard to swallow. See ya on the rivah..............hopefully finding the reality of your dreams.         PEACE


To continue the adventure, click here..................The Defining Year  

Round 5: The Story (The Good Life)

"You can't change past history.  But, you can change the future's history by cleansing your soul today.  Forget, forgive, and love passionately."

                                                                    ~Majdi Rabah~

   In the Fall of 2005 Western North Carolina became our home.........and yes, it truly was home for me.  From the moment I arrived I knew that the decision was the right decision.  We lived southwest of Asheville, between the towns of Brevard, Hendersonville, and Etowah.  Marcelle and I found a nice little cabin on the side of a mountain tucked away between Dupont State Forest and Pisgah National Forest.  Our landlords lived on the top of the mountain and had a small pottery studio in a rustic barn close to our home.  It truly was heaven.  If you left our home and crossed the road, you could walk into the wilderness and continue straight for nearly 75 miles without coming across anything but National Forest.  We were surrounded by endless rivahs, waterfalls, mountain biking trails, hiking trails, The Art Loeb, The Balsams, Bent Creek, white squirrels (yes, they are white), Looking Glass Rock, The Pink Beds, bears, and every beautiful landscape you could ever imagine seeing in the mountains of WNC.  The Class III section of the Davidson was a five minute drive from the house.  If you took a walk down our country road, you were greeted by a friendly bull grazing in a sprawling mountain valley.  Our surroundings held a lifetime of adventure and beauty..........adventures and beauty that I was excited to share with the only woman I ever loved.


“I can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though I feel that here in this world there’s no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else; and I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more.”
~Franz Kafka~

I chose this quote after careful consideration.  If you had X'd out the outside world, all the people, the family bull shit, the Fourteenth Street Whore, my job, and every other distraction of life, I truly believe that there were moments when Marcelle and I were as close to perfect as two people could ever be together.  

  We knew no one, did not have jobs or job prospects when we left RVA, and only had a limited amount of money, but Marcelle and I were confident, and we believed that we could be successful in this paradise.  Within a few weeks we both had jobs and were both on our way to settling into our new home.  I took a job as a Case Manager for a small Mental Health Agency and was able to travel throughout the mountains from school to school working with at-risk youth in the classroom, at home, and in the community, as well as communicating with agencies to help develop these children into successful adults. (as well as developing their parents into successful parents)  Marcelle took a government job with an organization that has since been dissolved.  She worked as a Wilderness Field Instructor for Camp Woodson, a program which took adjudicated youth out of the juvenile detention centers and placed them in a thirty day rehabilitation program through outdoor therapy. This meant that Marcelle would be on trail weekly for anywhere between three and ten days, away from home the entire time.  This schedule is one of the original roots to the downfall of our marriage more than seven years later, but I will come back to that.  We were proud of our accomplishments because we were spending our lives helping others, in a place that we were both quickly growing to love.
   Throughout the first Fall, Winter, and Spring our weekends were spent doing exactly what we had come there to do.........explore the mountains.  We went on hiking trips, tromping through the snow and ice almost every weekend.  We explored the small towns of the area, paddled some, but mostly we spent time with each other.  We never even really met our "Asheville friends" until the following Spring, because we really didn't feel the need to seek out others...........we had each other.


"Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead."
                                                                                   ~Oscar Wilde~ 

   Marcelle loved to garden, and for those of you who know her family or have been to their home, you know why.  Marcelle grew up in a home that had a garden bigger than their house.  Gardening was important to her, and because of this, it was important to me.  So throughout the winter, I built her a garden next to our cabin.  I know what you are thinking..........how hard can it be to build a garden?  Well, in Western North Carolina it is pretty damn hard, because nothing is flat.  I spent the entire Winter and Spring cutting trees from deep in the woods and dragging them up the mountain to create a stair step garden dug into the side of the hills.  Everything I used was natural, and the only pieces of equipment used were a shovel and hand saw.  I built brick steps and a patio, and had multiple raised beds that produced flowers and veggies that looked as though they had been grown on steroids.  (I wish I had pictures of our garden, home, etc.  I hate to call Marcelle out here, but I have to.  When we were separated, Marcelle took all the photos of our past...........all of them.  I was left with only the photo archives in my computer, but a month after we separated my computer was stolen out of my car and I lost every picture I ever had from my past.  I spent months begging Marcelle for pictures, but never received any.  Every memory I ever had of Ashville now exists in my mind and my heart, and I was heartbroken when I lost all the pics.  I now understand why people grab their photo albums as their house burns down around them.  Nothing is more precious than the memories we hold...........anywho, back to the story)  When the garden was completed, it was bad ass!  It is one of the things I am most proud of about my marriage to Marcelle, because it was built out of love.  See, I am not much of a romantic, at least according to her.  She wanted love letters, unique and creative gestures that swept her off her feet, homemade Christmas and Birthday presents that took weeks to make, etc., etc., etc.  Instead, I did the only things I knew to do to be romantic.  During the first year of our time in WNC, I would buy her flowers every Friday at the little Farmers Market on my way home from work.  I did this every week.  In doing so, I learned something..........you can't do the same thing every week to show a woman how much you love them.  If you do, then what was once special becomes expectation.  I hate to say it, but chivalry in our society is dead.................and I have no doubt that women are the ones who killed it. (Chappelle)  If any woman reading this has a problem with what I just wrote, by all means, let me know, because I would LOVE to debate it with you.  Most likely, the only ones who have the balls (pun intended) to argue this one with me are the exact same women who killed chivalry in the first place.  Try appreciating things that are done for you, as opposed to bitching about the things that are not.  You may stop being so pissed off all the time..........my point is this.  The garden was my way of demonstrating to Marcelle how much I loved her.  I don't think she ever realized that, and that really hurt, but I still loved what I had built, because above all else, I had built it for her.


“His attentive treatment of her had nothing to do with the presumption that she was weak, and everything to do with the conviction that she was valuable.”
                                                                            ~Angela N. Blount~

That one is just for you Celle, and it is TRUTH.

   As Spring approached, our itch for whitewater grew and it was time to push some rubber.  We applied with USA Raft for guiding positions, and were hired by a really great guy named Nick.......plus, our addition to any rafting company was a no brainer.  We came with a good amount of experience, were a two for one deal, were both good people with great personalities, and fit in well with all the dirt bag boaters of the area.  It was the first time we had sought out a social circle in the community, and we found a good one.
   We trained on the French Broad and Nolichucky Rivahs, and because we had already been through plenty of whitewater training's and situations together already, we both stood out at the top of the class.........this made our jobs MUCH easier.  When you become a guide in WNC, your rookie season is spent paying your dues.  Rafting customers are broken down into three groups.    Camps (which are given to the rookies), groups of friends and companies, and families and business team building.  The rookies get all the camps for a certain reason..........they never tip and are usually full of shitty children who never listen.  The French Broad took it one step further however, because they had daily trips for the ADHD camp..........yes, we spent our days taking boats full of ADHD kids down whitewater rivahs.  (this is the hardest job I have ever had)  I was proud of myself because I only threw four children in the rivah on purpose throughout the entire summer..........but I did mistakenly refer to a child as a boy for an entire trip, only to find out afterwards that he was in fact a girl.  (I still feel bad about that)  The counselors even painted her fingernails so people would know she was a girl, but I just thought he was weird.  (As I said, I still feel bad about this)  I bring up this one particular camper because he/she was in fact the most difficult customer I have ever had in a boat (besides the one time I had to guide a midget, but I will get to that later).  When the little girl (who I thought was a boy) got into the boat she was off the chain and needed a serious dose of Adderall.........I take that back.  She probably needed something much stronger.  She seemed excited about the trip, but when we entered the first rapid she fell out immediately..........the first rapid is easy Class II.  By the fourth rapid she had fallen out three times and was now freakin' out in the boat making it impossible for me to continue the trip.  Our trip leader was an older guide named Marshall who was one of the hardest rivah guides I have ever come across.  He approached the boat and asked me what was wrong.  I explained the situation and then waited for my TL to respond with a solution.  He looked around the boat, paused for a moment, and then gave me the best solution I have ever heard from a TL.............He said very calmly and non-nonchalantly, "stick her in the guide hole under your feet, keep your foot on her so she doesn't come out again, and let's go dude!".......................this is why I love River Guides.  No time for bull shit, no time for excuses.  Marshall was my boss, so I did what any good employee would do.........listened to him.  I stuffed her in the corner of the guide hole and rested my foot on her and continued my trip.  I am proud to say that I have now guided a whitewater rivah with a kicking and screaming ADHD child under my foot while directing five other ADHD kids to safety.........if a man can do this then he can do almost anything.  


"I'd have a longer attention span if so many things weren't so shiny."
                                                        ~Me, and it's the truth.  Damn you shiny stuff~


   Once the rookies had enough of the ADHD camps they either quite (like all Team WAV kids would do), or they were promoted to the classier customers.  Marcelle and I were NOT quitters.  By the second half of our first summer we no longer needed to deal with the camps, kids, and bull shit.  Instead we were selected for smaller more personalized trips full of smiling families, great businesses with cool bosses that scheduled raft trips for their employees, and retired vacationers with too much money.  The biggest benefit to this was tips...........I once received a $500.00 tip from a boat full of Texas oil tycoons..............but then I pissed off Marcelle by spending half of it on beer and pot for all my fellow guides.............which made me very, very popular.  :)  The other added benefit to being promoted was that our boats were full of interesting people from all over the country who appreciated history, good ole' fashioned rivah stories, quality conversations, and peaceful quiet moments to soak up the glorious scenery that surrounded us every moment of every day.  
   Marcelle and I were very good guides...........I am proud to say that this was because of our experiences guiding low water trips on the James for the previous three seasons.  Buzz once forced me to guide a six person boat at 3.6 feet on the James.  All six participants were at least 250 pounds.  This is next to impossible.  The experience included them demonstrating their laziness to the point that I purposely drove the boat far left at Hollywood, trying to launch over the pin rocks with a 1500 pound boat.  This resulted in our raft going airborne and a forty five minute rescue mission of fat people floating down the James.  One of them even refused to get back in my boat........fine with me.  Less weight for me to deal with.  (Lou witnessed this entire incident, so you can ask him for an in depth description)  The point is, three seasons of low water guiding on The James will make you a very good rubber pusher.
   Both Marcelle and I became very respected by our fellow guides and began to thoroughly enjoy our time together on the rivah.  Additionally, it gave us more options on WNC paddling trips with friends, as well as advancing our knowledge and comfort level on our own expeditions.  I have taken a lot of rivah trips with a lot of people, but my two favorite paddling partners were and always will be Marcelle and Marlow.  I loved being deep in a gorge with that feisty and beautiful girl, and I will always cherish and miss those experiences.
   I, along with the rest of the world, am ADHD, so we shall continue this journey later on.  (I just got tired of writing.  I bet the little boy (I mean girl) that I stepped on would understand)  I have a million stories to be told from the rivah, and I want to tell them all, so be patient if you enjoy reading.  The ending will arrive at some point, but there will be many more tales of whitewater woes and excitement before we get there.  Fact is, I just love to write, even if I am not the best at it..........and to all the haters who only read in search of the gossip, I can't express this enough..........GO AWAY!  Happy Holidays everyone.  Be careful this weekend with the weather, although I am calling it right now.........no snow or ice for RVA, just shitty cold rain. That is why my ass will be in West By God, hopefully with a boat, some cross country skis, and nothing but time! 


"There's no such thing as bad weather, just soft people."

                                              ~Bill Bowerman~


That last quote is TRUTH.  Toughen up RVA!  See ya on the rivah..............hopefully without your foot on an ADHD little boy.......I mean girl.   PEACE



To keep reading the adventure, click here...........................The Healthy Double Life   

Round 5: The Story (Breakin' out for WNC)

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

     After Marcelle and I experienced our James Rivah flood stage rafting run (not sure the James has ever been rafted higher than 15 feet), I developed a new appreciation for our relationship and started picturing a future where I wasn't alone.  I had never considered a future that was spent with someone else by my side, and doing so changed my perspective on everything.  Marcelle went out and took control of the world, and was determined to get everything she could out of life, regardless of what challenges stood in her way.  Her will to succeed was attractive to me, and when combined with her stubbornness, determination, and take no prisoners attitude, she was one tough cookie.  I was happy that I was on her side of the fence, because Marcelle was not someone I wanted to stand in the way of.  She would have taken me out and then moved right on without thinking twice about it..................which seems to have happened anyway.
   Marcelle graduated in the Spring of 2004 and used her graduation money to apply for a post graduate program with Outward Bound.  She would be spending the entire summer in the mountains of Western North Carolina, with a majority of the time coming on trail training for a career in Wilderness Leadership.  I was going to miss her, but had my own summer planned guiding the James and working as the Director of Waterfront Operations for the Geara Woods Group.  Both of us were now pursuing our dreams, and we had the support of each other to strengthen our determination.
   Marcelle spent her summer completely drenched..............the summer of 2004 was a very wet summer in WNC, even more so than this past summer.  For all the boaters reading this, the North Fork of the French Broad ran for three months straight that summer, which is unheard of.  Marcelle and I wrote letters to each other, and every time I heard from her I remember her always saying, "Justin, you would not believe how much it rains here."...............hmmmmmm.  Non stop rain, six thousand foot mountains, and some of the most epic whitewater runs on the East Coast.  Yea, I knew where my future was taking me.


“We have to allow ourselves to be loved by the people who really love us, the people who really matter. Too much of the time, we are blinded by our own pursuits of people to love us, people that don't even matter, while all that time we waste and the people who do love us have to stand on the sidewalk and watch us beg in the streets! It's time to put an end to this. It's time for us to let ourselves be loved.”
                                                ~C. Joybell C.~

This is a powerful quote, with powerful truth.  If only I had found this quote long ago when the Fourteenth Street Whore entered my life.  

   The summer passed by and Marcelle returned home to RVA and Charlottesville, full of adventurous stories and a wealth of outdoor knowledge.................as well as a new found love for open boating.  I had spent my summer on the James, meeting new people, watching the community continue to grow, and advancing my whitewater knowledge and skills, both in a raft and a kayak.  I had become a strong part of the RVA boating community, but was reluctant to call the James and the people in the community home.  I was happy to have had Marcelle by my side, and to not have been sucked into the social train wreck that was beginning to take shape in the boating community, even ten years ago.  People cheated, were sneaky, and were manipulative.  Most of the girls in the boating community slept around, even if they had boyfriends.  Unfortunately a lot of the boaters who led the charge in this social dynamic still attempt to lead things today, and the lack of values, morals, and ethics continue to exist today, only at a much greater rate. (and yes, I am being a hypocrite, because eventually I fell into the trap as well)  Some created an environment that fuels this social dynamic, from opening bars to building the take out and so on.  The goal of the boating community was quickly becoming an escape from growing up and moving on with life.  Now you have 30+ year olds who are still partying with college girls and are still the exact same people they were ten years ago..................and unfortunately that brings with it some serious adult drama.  Drug Abuse, unfaithfulness, alcoholism, accusations of rape, accusations of money laundering through non-profit organizations (yea Jeff, I am referring to your bull shit accusations), bull shit high school like clicks of boaters, unsafe river practices, and people like the Fat Bastard seeing a way to take advantage of it all, etc., etc., etc.............this wasn't what adulthood was supposed to be.  In my mind, it was Marcelle and her independence and confidence to think for herself that represented adulthood to me, and I was excited that my kayaking career would be spent with her by my side, exploring the rivers and whitewater of the East Coast.  We would grow together as boaters, and would explore rivah after rivah, gorge after gorge, and would spend our life pursuing our love for the outdoors.  We would take our children down those rivahs, and escape the bull shit to create a life together on the rivah.  We would be the couple that passes by young boaters 30 years from now, still paddling and living the dream.  We would be the boaters that the youngsters would say, "I hope I have that one day.  I hope that I can find love on the rivah one day and experience it for my entire life."


“The biggest adventure you can ever take is to live the life of your dreams.”
~Oprah Winfrey~

   (I'm quoting Oprah just for you Marcelle)  Throughout the remainder of the year, she and I worked together at the Y while putting together a plan for the next chapter of our lives.  We had made the choice to pursue our dreams of the outdoor life, and we would do it together.  Neither of us had "real life" commitments holding us back, and the fact that we were following the dream together made it that much better, plus we were both ready to move on from Richmond and the developing scene.  Our destination was split between Durango, Colorado and Asheville, NC.  We visited Asheville during the year and began to look around.  Marcelle, having spent the past summer in and around the area, took the lead.  We decided together that Asheville was a great place to live, so we began planning our move the following year.
   The remainder of 2004 and 2005 were happy days for me.  I spent them falling in love with Marcelle.  I loved to spend time with her.  She made me feel safe, allowed me to believe in myself, and most importantly she made me feel loved.  I miss that the most about Marcelle..........the fact that she made me feel loved.  We had great times on the rivah for the entire year, worked as counselors and outdoor instructors for the Y, drove short buses together (long story, but one of my favorite memories of our times in RVA), and spent every moment we could together.


"There are two sorts of romantics:  those who love, and those who love the adventure of loving."

~Lesley Blanch~

   During the wintertime we spent our weekends living the paddling life, going to parties and hanging with the RVA paddling crew.  One of my favorite nights I ever spent in RVA with Marcelle happened on a cold January night.  Ben, Hunter, Matt, and a few other boys all lived together in an apartment on Monument Ave during that time.  On a night of one of their many parties, it snowed in RVA, resulting in a massive snowball fight between all the boaters in the streets of Monument Ave.  Marcelle lived in the fan, and after the party, she and I walked home together, late at night, as the snow fell around us.  I don't know why, but the memories of that walk are so clear in my mind.  I was happy to be with her, happy to share the experience with her, and happy that I found someone that I could truly love, and who truly loved me.
   When the summer of 2005 arrived, Marcelle and I ran private rafting trips for the YMCA through the RWC with insurance coverage from AW. (were there enough abbreviations in there for ya!)  I was proud of this project because it was the first time I had run my own outdoor program, and I created, managed, organized it myself.  Every Friday for the entire summer I led groups of YMCA teenagers down the rivah, and the experience for them and me was unique.  Most importantly, Marcelle worked as a guide, and I loved sharing with her the success that I had found in outdoor recreation.  We grew up together that summer, and as summer neared its end I knew I was ready to embark on the next chapter of my life.  At the end of the summer we found a beautiful little cabin in the mountains of Brevard, North Carolina.  We spent all of August traveling to Asheville, moving our lives, and creating a new home.........together.  I was so proud of Marcelle, our decisions, and our courage to break out and follow our dreams.   At the end of August 2005, Marcelle and I left RVA for the mountains of WNC, with a few thousand dollars, no set jobs, our boats, cars, and each other.  That was all we needed........each other.  Stay tuned, because the happiest days of my life are just ahead.


"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."
                                                        ~Lao Tzu~

Enjoy the rivah.........hopefully water is on the way.  PEACE


Continue the story here...........................The Life