Round 5: The Story (The Complexity of the Double Life)

“A lot of people get so hung up on what they can't have that they don't think for a second about whether they really want it.”
                                                              ~Lionel Shriver~

   

   

   This is the first time I ever posted a quote in The Island Chronicles that I disagree with...........and trust me, I completely disagree with the quote above.  I posted it because for the longest time I did agree with it.  I thought we were all cursed to only crave what we couldn't have, regardless of whether it is what we really wanted.  This theory may have applied to The Fourteenth Street Whore, but that was about the only thing in my life it applied to.  Funny thing is, she is also the only truly negative thing that I have ever had enter my life, and I never even wanted her............Now I only disagree with the quote above because there are some of us that crave both sides of the fence, and I do mean two very healthy sides to life.  Some of us believe we can truly have our cake and eat it too, and make all of it work together in an orderly fashion.  I believed in the ability to make it all work, and the double life I started to lead in WNC was encouraging my confidence in that theory.  For half the week I was a calm pillar of the community; well put together, sleeping normal hours, reading books instead of watching cable, helping children in the school system (shit, I am still amazed they even let me in the school system), cleaning the kitchen at night as opposed to the next morning, gardening, buying flowers, sitting on a grassy hillside in the afternoon sun, talking about our future and dreams, and I did all of it with rainbows and butterflies floating all around the both of us..........now, if you are a man reading this you are probably saying, "Damn it Justin!  Shut the fuck up about the God damn love fest and talk about kick ass rivahs and epic WNC adventures."  Meanwhile, a lot of the women reading this are saying, "Ahhhhhh.  That sounds beautiful and is exactly how I always pictured happiness.  Just like the movies."....well, perception is reality folks!


“I would rather trust a woman's instinct than a man's reason.”
                                                         ~Stanley Baldwin~

Personally I wouldn't trust either one.

  My reality was I couldn't only see both sides of the fence, but I could live both very well, and not only did I do it well, but they were both acceptable, promising lives.  Knowing that I was going to have three days every week to be the pathetically irresponsible, immature, whitewater obsessed slob of a man that I knew I could be when no one was there to keep me in check made me work that much harder to be the perfectly loving, responsible, well groomed, saint of a man I knew I could be when someone was watching over me...........closely.

  So here we are again at a crux in this post when men and women are going to read what was just written and interpret it completely different.  I will try and explain......................every man out there knows that what I just wrote describes most of us perfectly. (unless you are a gay man.  In that case you are very clean and well groomed and every woman out there loves you and wishes their boyfriend or husband were just like you......well, almost)  So to explain I will ask a simple question to all the men out there.........What happens every time your wife leaves town for the weekend?................C'mon, you all know the answer.........you do whatever the fuck you want!!!!!!!......and don't even try to deny it.  You may sit on the couch with your hand down your pants playing Modern Warfare for 7 straight hours.  You may hit up a sunrise bong hit, pass back out until noon, then eat an entire package of bacon for breakfast while having a beer to start the day (and the beer is totally justified because after all, it is the afternoon).  You may do this for an entire Saturday, knowing that if she were there you would be doing anything but sitting on the couch for seven hours playing video games with your hand down your pants, taking sunrise bong hits and eating packages of bacon for breakfast with your first afternoon beer.  But this is only one example of just how pathetically worthless we, as men, can be when left unattended.  Whitewater obsession is another perfect example.  I once turned six laps on The James around 10 feet in one Saturday when Marcelle was out of town for the weekend, went home that evening, ate (on the couch with my hand down my pants I might add....well, I take that back.  My hand went down my pants AFTER I finished eating...........I'm pretty sure I ate bacon), and then I fell asleep.  When I awoke at midnight, I headed back out for my seventh lap..........solo.  Who does that?........then again, who lives on an Island as a fully grown adult just so they can kayak everyday.  We are men, and like it or not ladies, we are very good at being worthless and justifying every second of it.  And ladies, you are very good at trying to call us out for it.  Dave Chappelle stated it best........................................(****the first two and a half minutes of this video apply to what is being discussed, but the entire ten minutes is probably some of the most bluntly stated TRUTH I have ever heard spoken about the differences between women and men.  Be warned, the content is R-Rated and may be offensive, but then again, this is still The Island Chronicles, so fuck it!  ENJOY****)

    Told you Dave stated it best............"If it wasn't for a woman a man wouldn't buy a house.  He would be happy living in a cardboard box."  Well, I was happy living on an island, so that is probably true.  Plus, as I have stated before, I make one hell of a good homeless man.


“There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.”
                                                                          ~Ernest Hemingway~ 


   Given everything you have just learned about my perceptions of modern day man and my ability to push the limits, imagine me being given anywhere from three to ten days at a time to "get out all the bro" from my soul, and imagine having WNC as my playground to do it.  That is exactly what I did............and I did it for three years!  When Marcelle left town, I did what I had to do to keep my life in check, but did what I wanted to do every other moment.  This worked out well......so well in fact I would work the other side of the fence with the same reckless passion for Marcelle when she got off trail.  I prepared baths with flower petals and candles waiting for her when she returned home from a rough three days on trail in the middle of winter.............I would have the house spotless as she walked through the door..........I would plan dinners and weekend trips that I hoped she enjoyed..............I even tried to write her Legend of the Falls style love letters (which I pathetically failed at I might add) ................and I would always be rested up from my weekend of worthlessness and/or twelve hour sleep from an endless two days of boating, allowing me to be ready to do whatever she was ready to do.  We would go apple pickin', attend art exhibits, watch drag shows (I will come back to that one fellas), go on picnics, and take endless walks on country roads.  We picked flowers, I helped her with art projects, helped her pack her bags for returning to trail (this was always a complicated process), and we would always go to the town coffee shop to just sit and talk before strolling through the local Farmers Markets.  I loved all of this, don't get me wrong...........but now think about how to cram both the kayaking adventures and epic worthlessness that is man into a time frame that fit with the responsible, perfect, flower pickin' gentleman I had been groomed to be.  It works fine, as long as the two worlds are separated.  Now combine them, with no breaks, no separation, and just for kicks go ahead and throw in two kids......................See where I am going with all this?  Stay tuned, because this story contains lessons for us all.


“Men marry women with the hope they will never change. Women marry men with the hope they will change. Invariably they are both disappointed.”
                                                                                 ~Albert Einstein~

 

See ya on the rivah.......................hopefully your wife gave you permission.   PEACE


To find out just how different those two lives are, click here.............The Flower Pickin' Gentleman   

Round 5: The Story (Fifteen Foot Rookie Runs)

“I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sail my ship.” 
                            ~Louisa May Alcott~



   ..........to review.  It's February 2004, the rivah is sitting around 15 feet or about 60,000cfs, and an extremely determined and overly confident group of young paddlers are ready to tackle the mighty James at flood.  We put in at the Huguenot Bridge, which is the farthest point up the rivah any boater would put in for a whitewater paddle.  The first drop in the rivah, aside from Boshers Dam, is the Williams, or Z Dam just upstream of Pony Pasture.  The last significant whitewater in this section (and on the entire James for that matter) is at the 14th Street Bridge.  This section encompasses every drop of the RVA section of the James.  The group of kayakers, which included Zizza, Hunter, Ben, Matt, I think the little leprechaun, maybe Rand, and a few others I can't remember, all in kayaks, were looking to surf the rivah left side of Z Dam.  Marcelle and I were R-2ing a raft.  R-2ing is a team oriented way to paddle and there is no guide. It is well known among raft guides that there are many couples whose R-2 experiences have almost ended in break up, divorce, or only one of the two coming back from the trip.  (usually the woman)  R-2ing is not a popular way of paddling among couples.  Funny part about it was, Marcelle and I loved to R-2 together and we were able to always get along doing it.  Usually when couples paddle together and both are guides, there is one to many cooks in the kitchen...........but she and I were always smooth as silk.  
   It was an overcast winter day for paddling, and since we were late into winter, the rivah was bone chilling cold.  The high flows had turned the mighty James into a debris filled mess of chocolate milk, foam, brush, and logs.  We met up with a large group of paddlers and put on just upstream of the Huguenot Bridge.  Putting on at Huguenot is always nerve racking because your brain is trained to know if you are that high up the rivah then it is flooded and it is going to be a big day.  The Upper James at flood is surprisingly easy, even at super high water.  The rapids are for the most part washed out and everything turns into fast moving tongues of brown, and big, splashy waves through wide lines.  However, remember that whitewater is 70% psychological, so it took me six or seven years to learn the Upper James is perfectly safe at flood stage.  On this day, Marcelle and I were clueless rookies who just wanted to prove our toughness on the James.
   The Upper trip was only about twenty minutes long, and was for the most part uneventful, except for Z Dam.  As Marcelle and I approached the wave, we waited to drop in down the horizon line, but the wave kept getting bigger and bigger.  Eventually we heaved up over the massive wall of water, landing side ways and almost flipping in the out flow.  It is funny to think of that day as rookies because these days I would surf that wave in my kayak without even thinking about it, and it is a nice, smooth, friendly wave.  Ten years ago the wave seemed twenty feet high.  It is funny how whitewater gets smaller the further into your career you go.  Yet another part of the psychological component.  


“There are no facts, only interpretations.”
              ~Friedrich Nietzsche~

  As we approached the takeout for the upper, located at 42nd Street and Reedy creek, a smaller group of boaters began talking about running the Lower.  The Lower James at fifteen feet is, as stated from summer posts, massive, Class V whitewater, full of dangerous Dam drops, huge holes, and large piles of debris, some of which are located in bad spots.  The usual suspects in kayaks were ready for the undertaking, and the rafters started discussing a team for the expedition.  Marcelle and I looked at each other and I remember thinking, "whatever she decides.........I'm with her."  She asked my opinion, and I said "let's go for it.".  Our friend Dwayne, as well as Brian, were ready for the challenge as well.  We switched out people and gear to form one raft of Lower pioneers and set off with the kayakers for the mountains of water headed our way. 
   We approached the Lower section from the far rivah left side just above Hollywood cemetery to line up for a safe slot over the first dam named Grummans, knowing we would be pushed straight into Cemetery, a formidable name for a rapid.  It's name derives from the fact that Hollywood Cemetery overlooks the rapid, not because that is where it takes you if you screw up.  It is funny to re-tell this story because my mindset on the James is so different today.  Cemetery at fifteen feet in a kayak is big, but more than doable, and this is something I have learned over the years.  Cemetery in a raft at flood stage is massive for some reason, and some would say it is tougher than Hollywood.  (all the haters just hated) Looking at the story today is a very different mind set than thinking about the story when it happened.  I was a dumb ass rookie who thought I was the shit, and needed to be humbled.  Once I was humbled over the past decade, I became a much wiser paddler, approached the rivah differently, and everything began to slow down.  Then the environment became more controlled, and my mind was able to work situations out better.............now if I can just apply this to life.


"Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known."
                                                                        ~A. A. Milne~

   On this day however, our mind set was to charge as hard as possible and prove our worth in the whitewater world.  We entered the top of Cemetery without problem, which was good, because once we entered the rapid the water was going to take us where it wanted to go, regardless of what we did to stop it..  I remember thinking before we made the run that it was going to be similar to the Gauley..........I was wrong.  Cemetery at fifteen feet was much, much bigger, more powerful, and because the shore line is hundreds of yards away with 100 times the amount of debris filled, icy cold water raging around you, it is much more intimidating. We hit our line, but all of us were thrown from side to side in the raft as we charged wave after wave, hammering down rivah, just trying to get a paddle in the water.  The kayakers around us were battling their own lines, and Ben dumped sideways over a pour over hole in his boat, and began to window shade.  Window shading is exactly what it sounds like.  A boater loses control and dumps over a drop sideways, becoming caught in a hole.  When this happens, the backwash of the hole begins to roll the kayak over and over and over, like a window shade rolling up, until the boater either swims or regains control.  As we passed Ben's small debacle, Dwayne reached his paddle out of the raft and attempted to hook Ben out of the hole.  I don't remember if this worked, but it was a hell of a move to attempt.  Eventually Ben washed out and the group slipped through the jaws of Cemetery still intact........................however the most difficult lied just downstream.
   I have explained in previous posts that the bottom of the James, throughout the middle lines and around The Island contains the largest of our cities whitewater, along with Hollywood.  The dams, slots, islands strainers, and debris throughout these lines are what make up the heart of urban whitewater in this country, as well as plenty of hazards.  The best post to re read for an in depth description of the environment our group was about to enter is "Week 6:  Bring on the Floods".      
   We approached the lower drops of the James within five minutes of entering the torrent of water.  The rivah was moving so fast that had there been a swim at Cemetery, I am not sure we would have made it to shore before the next set of rapids..........but we had made it this far, and I had made it with Marcelle by my side.  She was a bad ass, no doubt.  Our plan was to cut through X's in the middle of the rivah, and continue working right until we reached the Southside takeout next to the Southern States Silos.  This route allowed us to hopefully avoid the most dangerous whitewater, however, a large dam and Second Break rapid stood between us and freedom.  
   We shot through X's with no issues and started working further right, preparing to set up for Second Break, the next rapid and the biggest of the day for us..  However, the James has a funny way of hiding her best secrets for only those high water adventure seekers.  Below the Manchester Bridge rests the stone pillars from the original bridge.  The bridge has been re-built many times, and a history of pillars can be seen throughout the rivah bed.  Some have fallen over, some are broken and decaying, and some still stand upright.  These pillars are normally a simple flat water float, but at high water, they begin to cause obstructions and un-for-seen holes.  Below these pillars there is a dam cutting diagonally upstream across the rivah toward the city.  At high water this dam becomes a deadly pour over spanning the entire rivah, and the only way out is to shoot Second Break through a 30 foot wide slot.  Pouring over the dam in a raft would be almost certainly a fatal mistake at fifteen feet.  If the dam did not swallow you up in the backwash at it's base, then you would be forced to swim 300 yards of large Class IV whitewater in freezing cold water full of debris.  Our goal was to avoid any of this from happening.  


“Do one thing every day that scares you.”
~Eleanor Roosevelt~

   As we approached the pillars we noticed a dip ahead of us in the rivah, but our attention was being paid to the entrance of Second Break downstream.  Marcelle and I were in the front of the boat, Brian sat behind Marcelle, and Dwayne was guiding.  The small dip snuck up on us in seconds, and when I looked down into the hole I knew we were in big trouble.  The hole was deep, very deep.  It was so deep in fact that I remember a dark shadow in the bottom of it.  Marcelle always described it as a mouth, because the crashing wave in front of the hole folded back on us like a giant mouth eating the raft..................the entire boat went airborne, and we didn't stand a chance.  Before I knew it I was under water, and the cold took my breath away.  Before I even surfaced I remember thinking................"Holy shit!  The dam is just downstream."  The kayakers had all worked right to line up Second Break and all they could do was watch, because we were headed straight where we didn't want to be, all swimming, gasping for air, holding onto an upside down raft.........we were screwed.
   The force of the water pushing downstream gave us about twenty to thirty seconds before we dumped over the worst part of the dam, followed by more flood stage whitewater.  In those twenty seconds however, perfection was witnessed within intense circumstances.  Four guides, all well trained, had a drastic situation which we had trained for many times over..........flip drills.  Rafts flip, and when they do they must be flipped back.  Usually this happens in a pool below a rapid, but we are experienced to do it in any environment.  I reached the raft first and immediately climbed up on top.  Dwayne followed right behind me, and Brian saw that he should position himself below the raft to push it up and over.  Rafts are not easy to flip, and we had one chance at it.  Dwayne and I stood up and hooked our paddles into the bail holes on the bottom of the floor.  We leaned back, grabbing our paddles and pulling hard.  Our momentum began to flip the raft over and we fell into the water, forcing the boat over within a matter of seconds.  Brian and Marcelle were below the raft, and their push forced it over on the first shot.  We all found ourselves back underwater momentarily, but now we had an upright raft.  Within seconds I hopped back in and began to grab Dwayne.  Once he was in I turned and saw Brian............................but no Marcelle.  The dam was now within ten seconds of us.  "Where the fuck is Celle!", I yelled.  Brian scurried around to the back of the boat and found her hanging to the outside, hiding behind the tube.  For a few seconds though, she was gone, and it made my stomach drop.  Brian helped whip Marcelle back in the boat and we began to re-organize.  Second Break now lay too far right.  We were not going to make it, and we were headed for the inevitable.........dropping over the dam at fifteen feet.  As it approached I looked to Dwayne and Brian for leadership.  They both looked a bit concerned about the unfolding situation.  
   Many boaters remember the giant log that used to straddle the dam above and to the left of Second Break.  In 2004, the log was there, and we were headed toward it.  As we approached, we realized the base of the log was forming a small eddy that acted as a landing pool for dropping over the dam.  The obvious line was to drop the dam just downstream of the log, using the eddy to avoid the backwash of the dam.  We began to drop, and as we did, we reached forward, grasping the eddy with our paddles, and digging through the aerated water for leverage to push the raft out of the hole, and avoid the deadly backwash we were doomed to be caught in......................it worked, and the eddy allowed us to escape our nightmare.  The log had saved us, and we were somehow below the dam, in an upright boat, with all paddlers accounted for.  


"With every mistake, we must surely be learning.” 
                                ~George Harrison~


   The irony of this story rests in the log which saved our lives.  The log washed off the dam sometime in the later half of the decade.  On my third day on The Island an exploration to the Western Tip brought me to a debris field.  At the top of the debris field rest the same log that had saved our lives that day.  I confirmed this with Dwayne, who agreed that it was the same log.  I find it ironic and bittersweet that our saviors final resting place was on The Island.  Every evening I would hike to the top of the Western Tip, and watch the sunset while sitting on the log...............and every evening I thought about Marcelle and that day on the James.
   After dropping over the dam we found ourselves weaving in and out of holes and pour overs, traversing our way down the south side of The Island............yes, we traveled right next to The Island a decade ago, on what is still one of the more intense days I have ever had on the rivah.  Little did I know that I would return to that same place a decade later, this time without Marcelle by my side.  Within minutes we were at the takeout, shivering, deer eyed, scared, and happy to be alive.  The entire adventure was over before it even dawned on us what had happened.  45 minutes, top to bottom, and we survived.
   I do not tell this story because it is yet another whitewater adventure in my life..................there have been many of those to tell.  I tell it because it is the day I fell in love with Marcelle.  The feeling I felt when I turned around and didn't see her in the boat was a feeling I had never felt before.  She had always been there, right beside me, all year long, and then for a moment she was gone, and it scared me.  I knew after that moment how important Marcelle was to me.  I no longer just watched my own back.................I watched hers as well.  Marcelle and I had explored the whitewater world for an entire year, stuck next to each other through thick and thin, and the loyalty showed at that moment.  I loved her, and I wanted to grow old with her.............and I wanted to spend my entire life on endless adventures with the one true love I ever had.......................this rivah haunts me with memories.     
   
   
“And who understands? Not me, because if I did I would forgive it all.”
                                           ~Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls~

See ya on the rivah...................once the rains come back.


Click here to continue the adventure.................................Breakin' out for WNC 

Week 13 - Part II - "The Great Brown's Island Goose Herd of 2013"

"Now that we're essentially an indoor species, walled off from the world of other life forms, we're divorced from the very domain that supports and sustains our lives." 

~Charles Cook~

  The second half of Week 13 can be defined in three words: STUPID CANADA GEESE.  You see, I have a very deep and intimate relationship with the Canada Geese of the James.  Throughout the first 10 years of my kayaking and rafting career I learned to despise the geese of the James.  Kayakers on the James have a long love hate relationship with Canada Geese.  You have to understand, these damn birds are not migrating through our little river anymore.  The showed up in the 90's when the river started becoming cleaner, and just never left.  They cannot be fully blamed for this.  We have created the perfect environment here in RVA for them.  The grasslands of the James provide them ample food next to a perfect water source (they love rapids and can clean a line as well as any kayaker.  Seriously, the geese run the rapids all the time), and the urban environment protects them from most natural predators.  Additionally, society's obsession with golf courses doesn't help either.  It confuses the geese into thinking they reached Canada. The area they used to migrate to in Northeastern Canada contains large grasslands and few trees next to small ponds.........just like a golf course.  (I love to golf, but golf courses are terrible for the environment, which is why I created the game of Island Golf.  It's probably the coolest way to ever play golf, kayaking is involved while playing, I have a nine hole course in my front yard, and yes, my country club is free to all.  The only membership requirement is that you can handle the Middle Lines in a kayak.....which means we have no Team WAV members.  They don't meet the membership requirements.  But Island Golf will have its own post to be introduced to the world.  This post is about the geese.)  Now, where was I?.......So the geese live full time here on the James.  They have been doing this for over twenty years, and every year their numbers grow.  Unfortunately, they are no longer just a part of the James.  They are a problem.  Below is an excerpt from Wikipedia about Canada Geese:

Canada Geese on Spokane River, Washington.

A flock flying in V formation.

   This species is native to North America. It breeds in Canada and the northern United States in a variety of habitats. Its nest is usually located in an elevated area near water such as streams, lakes, ponds and sometimes on a beaver lodge. Its eggs are laid in a shallow depression lined with plant material and down. The Great Lakes region maintains a very large population of Canada Geese.

By the early 20th century, over-hunting and loss of habitat in the late 19th century and early 20th century had resulted in a serious decline in the numbers of this bird in its native range. The Giant Canada Goose subspecies was believed to be extinct in the 1950s until, in 1962, a small flock was discovered wintering in Rochester, Minnesota, by Harold Hanson of the Illinois Natural History Survey.[11] In 1964, the Northern Prairie Wildlife Research Center was built near Jamestown. Its first director, Harvey K. Nelson, talked Forrest Lee into leaving Minnesota. Forrest Lee would head the center’s Canada Goose production and restoration program. Forrest soon had 64 pens with 64 breeding pairs of screened, high-quality birds. The project involved private, state and federal resources and relied on the expertise and cooperation of many individuals. By the end of 1981, more than 6,000 giant Canada Geese had been released at 83 sites in 26 counties in North Dakota. [12] With improved game laws and habitat recreation and preservation programs, their populations have recovered in most of their range, although some local populations, especially of the subspecies occidentals, may still be declining.

In recent years, Canada Goose populations in some areas have grown substantially, so much so that many consider them pests for their droppings, bacteria in their droppings, noise, and confrontational behavior. This problem is partially due to the removal of natural predators and an abundance of safe, man-made bodies of water near food sources, such as those found on golf courses, in public parks and beaches, and in planned communities. Due in part to the interbreeding of various migratory subspecies with the introduced non-migratory Giant subspecies, Canada Geese are frequently a year-around feature of such urban environments.

Contrary to its normal migration routine, large flocks of Canada Geese have established permanent residence in Esquimalt, British Columbia, on Chesapeake Bay, in Virginia's James River regions, and in the Triangle area of North Carolina (Raleigh, Durham, Chapel Hill), and nearby Hillsborough. Some Canada Geese have taken up permanent residence as far south as Florida, in places such as retention ponds in apartment complexes. Large resident populations of Canada Geese are also present in much of the San Francisco Bay Area in Northern California.
   
   I find it fascinating that our river environment was used in the Wikipedia definition as an example of the over population of the Canada Goose.  I truly believe that I could not be a better expert on the daily problem of Canada Geese in the James.  They have a severe impact on both my personal and professional life.
   When I moved to The Island, I certainly was not alone.  I recorded 36 Canada Goose nests when I first arrived.  The following is an exert from my journal from the first few weeks on The Island:

April 13, 2013 ~ Journal Entry ~ Day 12

   "I woke up this morning to the extra loud racket of goose battles.  When I looked out of my tent window I observed two large male geese entangled in a heated battle for territorial rights directly in the middle of my camp.  They had their necks wrapped around one another, and were attempting to swat one another with their wings.  (if you have never observed a goose battle, they are extremely violent) I found it ironic that they were both battling for territory right in the middle of my territory.  This could not continue, because on this island, I am king.........and the geese know it.  I gave one loud yell and they both scampered off, still fighting each other as they went.  
   Don't get me wrong.......I love the geese, as long as they are kept in check.  When I first arrived on the island, I had an extremely bad impression of them due to my previous encounters with them while kayaking.  My original plan was to rid the island of the geese and all of their eggs, especially after a conversation I had with the legend......Ralph White.  The James has provided the perfect habitat for the geese to overpopulate" (already explained above).....................
   "Once I settled into the island, I realized the geese were able to adjust to my presence well, and we quickly co-habited.  Although they are obnoxiously loud, poop everywhere, are territorial as hell, and have severe attitude problems, they are actually harmless. (their bite does not hurt.  It tickles)  They have grown a lot on me since being out here.  They give me plenty of company, provide lots of entertainment, and are funny as hell at times.
   However, the attribute I respect the most about the geese are their attention to family.  Each one has an unbreakable commitment to raise and protect their young at all costs.  Yesterday I saw a mother goose and a father goose lead five little goslings over the rocks and into the river.  The father goose led the way, with the five little ones following right behind in a perfect line like a little kindergarten class.  The mother goose brought up the rear, helping the ones that lagged behind.  They were a family, and it showed that they stuck together, through thick and thin.
   I have begun to name the mother geese, mostly after ex-girlfriends.  When I first came to the island I tried to move a nest for camp.  The mother goose was having none of it, and she is still the only goose on the island to back me down.  Out of respect, I named her Marcelle.  Marcelle is an amazing mother and would do anything to protect our boys (including manipulating herself into believing they shouldn't be allowed to see their father) and she always could back me down in a fight."

   As the weeks and months passed by on The Island, the geese continued to fascinate me.  I watched a gosling hatch straight out of its egg one afternoon, (it was a moving experience, especially with the turmoil and fight for my own boys) and witnessed two geese fight off a red tailed hawk trying to pick off their goslings.  I also unfortunately witnessed a hawk snatch up a gosling and eat it alive one day just above my camp in a tree.  It was disturbing and brutal, especially hearing the screams of the gosling as it died, but it is also a part of nature, and needs to happen more to control the growth of the species.
   Skip forward to late June.  My job at Venture Richmond requires me to assist in the care and maintenance of Brown's Island.  The Island is covered in Bermuda Grass, which grows laterally and makes brown's Island look like a golf course most of the summer.  Due to the high water we have witnessed throughout the summer, the geese retreated to Brown's Island to feed of the Bermuda grass and take shelter in the canal.  This is a huge problem for us and for the island.  Their poop covers the canal dock and the sidewalks and we power wash on almost a daily basis.

As you can see, we are not talking about a little bit of poop here.  At the end of June, the geese begin their molting season.  This is when they loose their feathers and grow new ones.  During this time, they are unable to fly, which encourages them even more to seek shelter in the canal and on the island.  D.J. has dealt with the problem every year for a long time, and he is very good at being patient with them, but due to the abnormal weather and water levels this summer, the problem was exasperated.  So we decided that a goose heard was in order, and it would be "The Great Brown's Island Goose Heard of 2013".........long story short, the geese kicked our asses.  We began by taking two john boats and pushing the flock up the upper canal and onto Browns Island.  Then we slowly walked 70 to 100 geese across Browns Island and into the James.  From there I attempted to use my kayak to force them all into Pipeline Rapid and down river, away from Brown's Island.  We then built goose fences around Brown's Island to keep them out.  By the end of the day, the island was goose free.......................by 11pm that evening, every one of those little fuckers found their way back onto the island and were sitting there staring at me, as if to say "Fuck You!  We are way smarter than you think."...................so in the end, the geese won and we apparently suck at our job.  However, the experience taught me a few very important lessons.

1.  Don't fuck with nature, because in the end nature always wins.

2.  Geese have brains the size of a pea, which makes us complete morons, because they beat us.

3.  I no longer love the geese.  I hate them once again.

4.  I have one of the coolest and most unique jobs in all of RVA.

5.  The entire experience was funny as shit!

In the end I feel the experience was yet another unique lesson taught to me throughout my experiences of The Island Life, and I am grateful to D.J., Venture, and all those who support what I am doing, plus, as you can see below, I made some new friends.  

"If a group of beings from another planet were to land on Earth - beings who considered themselves as superior to you as you feel yourself to be to other animals - would you concede them the rights over you that you assume over other animals."

                                                                                             ~George Bernard Shaw~ 

Now there is a quote that will make you think......fo' sho'!  See ya on the rivah......be nice to the geese........and the homeless.  :)    PEACE