Week Fourteen Part II "Craziest week yet!....Absinthe induced fires, High Water, Strippers, and River Rescues"

*****Below is Part II to Week Fourteen.  This is the omitted story of the river rescue.  If you have not read Week Fourteen Part I, you might want to do that before reading this.......and you should also read "The Dumb Ass on the Log".  It plays a part as well.  Enjoy!*****

Part II - "The River Rescue and The Great James Debate"

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."
"I don't much care where –"
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go.”
                                                                           

                                                                             ~Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland~

   That quote describes my entire existence until I can find a way back to the life I once had..........which means every new horizon line I see will be bringing new adventures, and new and colorful people.  So while I am living this existence that is judged, mocked, and ridiculed by all the haters, I will most likely discover more about this world then any of them could ever hope to throughout their entire lives.........point is, "HATE ON HATERS!"

   Any who.............Week Fourteen continued with the same bizarre, yet highly enlightening experiences that it started with.  By Tuesday I had already cruised Pipeline at 8+ feet with a six year old (on that note, all James River Outfitters abandon Pipeline over seven and a half feet because it is just "too big".  C'mon guys. A six year old did it with a smile on her face the whole time.  Give the people what they want.......the ride of their life!...............I know I tried to give them that last summer, and it was four feet.  Mother Nature made it easy for you guys this year.)  I had also met a ton of new people, had been taken to dinner by a group of beautiful, bikini clad women and a motocross racer with an A Team van, had late night Absinthe hits on The Island with new friends, and run "The Middle Lines Work Out Program" seven times in four days.  I had fulfilled an entire weeks worth of adventure into half a week.
   Then Tuesday came and things got even wilder.  I paddled off the island later in the morning and met a friend for lunch, which involved a pretty intense conversation.  After lunch I met with a financial planner. Why a financial planner wanted to meet with a homeless kayaker living on an island I do not know?.....but I went with it.  I was happy that I did, because I received some valuable advice and had a bit of reality dropped on my ass...........basically, I'm screwed and need to work my ass off for the next 73 years.  Oh well.  I finally reached work around 2 pm that afternoon (My boss was so happy with me.....again, sarcasm).  We headed up to Brown's Island to finish some work and meet up with a city official about some projects on the island.
     

“Too many times we stand aside and let the waters slip away, till what we put off till tomorrow has now become today.  So don't you sit upon the shoreline and say you're satisfied.  Choose to chance the rapids and dare to dance the tide.”

                                                                     ~Anonymous~

   We had only been on Brown's Island for about five minutes before the Fire Department, Police, and River Rescue arrived at the boat ramp and came walking up to us.  My boss happens to somehow know every firefighter and cop in the city and had the 'situation assessment' in 30 seconds.  They had not located the victims, but said they received a call that there were distressed swimmers somewhere above Pipeline.  We headed down to the bottom of the island and started searching the river bank for the problem.  My boss had walked ahead of me and located the victims near the entrance to Pipeline rapid.  He then turned around and gave me a strange look.  I came up on the scene, looked out in the river, and saw Randbo......yes, Randbo (this is what happens when you allow someone to name their own character in a story), a fellow boater, standing on a pile of logs with one female.  They were stable, but in a precarious position.  The river was about seven and a half feet, and neither were wearing a PFD.  The reason the situation was so strange was that we both knew Randbo, and both knew that he was a competent boater.  It was one of those situations where things looked different than they really were. A competent boater would never end up in a situation like the one Randbo was in without something strange having happened.  

  All I could do was look out at Randbo and yell, "What the fuck dude!?!"  He just looked back at me and shook his head and told me to get a PFD to him.  Unfortunately I knew that with the arrival of the Fire Dept. I was not allowed to be involved in the rescue for liability reasons (plus I didn't have a kayak), so all I could do was sit and watch. Although Randbo.........yes, Randbo, and the victim were safe, they were in a rather unfortunate spot.  They were located in the batch of trees that separate the left side entrance to Pipeline from the entrance that takes you towards the tree slot boof.  From this position there is swift water on both sides with very small eddies that are few and far between, making rescue difficult.  Additionally, the location is at the top of a rapid that is about 300 yards long.  It would be a rough swim for someone who was not wearing a PFD and is not accustom to swimming Class III-IV whitewater............actually, it would be a rough swim for ANYONE not wearing a PFD.
   The rescue took quite a bit of time and was difficult given the circumstances.  The River Rescue Squad used jet boat rafts to push through the current, but at times the force of the water was stronger than the boat. The lack of larger eddies just added to the difficulty.  Eventually River Rescue made a successful recovery of both the victim and Rambo.....I mean Randbo.  I spoke with him after the rescue was made to get the entire story about the circumstances of the situation.  Randbo had been walking his dog on the pipe at Pipeline and had seen three distressed swimmers above Pipeline being swept down into the top of the rapid.  He was able to rescue two of the victims himself by swimming them across the channel to the river left shore.  He stated that the third victim freaked out a bit when her turn came, so he decided to call river rescue.  Rand was correct with everything he did in the situation because he has a decade of experience on the river.  If you do not have that amount of experience, then do not ever attempt to save someone in swift water.  Call River Rescue or find a kayaker........quick.
   Over the last five years, I have been involved with numerous river rescues, both on my own and involving The River Rescue Squad.  I have also participated in numerous trainings with the fire department concerning swift water training on The James.........................................anyone who is in our paddling community knows that I am in a tough position right now.  How do I write the following constructive criticism bluntly, honestly, and with conviction, (like all other posts), but without upsetting anyone?  It is a tough question to answer, but here goes my attempt.  I pray this comes across well..................  

“It is better to offer no excuse than a bad one.”
                                                        ~George Washington~

   The James River is a unique anomaly in the whitewater paddling world.  We possess the best urban whitewater anywhere in the United States.  This has created two important factors that play into the amount of activity and problems we have on The James.  First, we have a large and close culture of boaters in this town.  There is A LOT of whitewater skill in RVA, and every year it grows.  This creates a lot of knowledge and experience on the rivah.  We also have a large paddling population and only one rivah.........this creates waaaaaayyyyy too many cooks in one kitchen, and everyone seems to have their own recipe about how to bake up a solution to the dilemma of River Rescue.  

   Second, we have created an extremely beautiful and well maintained Park System (Thanks Ralph and Nathan) that draws thousands of people to the banks of our rivah every year, giving the general public direct access to dangerous whitewater........................no offense, but the general public is incredibly stupid. Example #1:  Last summer I watched a man take an inflatable pool chair down Hollywood with his eight year old daughter sitting on his lap.  No helmets, no PFD's, no common sense.  The end result was myself and a fellow boater picking both the man and daughter out of the logs below the main drop, all while the daughter was screaming and clawing into my arm because she was so scared.  While I was dealing with that, my fellow paddler was bitching out the father like no other..............and rightfully so I might add.  If you do stupid shit you should be made to feel stupid, especially when your stupidity endangers a child.
Example #2:  Go to Belle Isle on a busy weekend and watch the crowd.  Within half an hour you WILL see someone do something stupid involving the rivah........guaranteed.  Additionally, the stupid person is most likely drunk.  This will help you understand Example #2....actually this IS Example #2.     

   Due to these circumstances, there is a culture clash on The James.  You have the general population that uses the rivah for hiking, walking, biking, sun bathing, and swimming.  Then you have the paddling community.......the most knowledgeable rivah group in RVA..........finally, you have River Rescue trying to keep all of us safe.  Given these circumstances one thing is for sure..........River Rescue is in a tough spot.
   If you asked most paddlers about their opinion of River Rescue in RVA it would be negative and critical.......that's fucked up.  Before I go on, I will call myself out and say that at times in the past decade I have been very critical of River Rescue.  (I am no longer like that, but in all fairness I am about to put myself in the same group this is all going to fall on in this blog.)  I now support them 100 percent and think given the circumstances they do a phenomenal job.  Here is why:.................

Undated Journal Entry

   "................Paddlers who criticize River Rescue should think about this..........Imagine going to the Fire Department and receiving one days worth of training on how to be a firefighter.  Then on the day after your training, you are handed a hose by a firefighter and told to go into a burning building and save an entire family.  The whole time you are in the burning building, the fire department is going to stand outside, and criticize every move you make...........that is pretty much the equivalent of what we as paddlers do to River Rescue all the time...........THAT"S FUCKED UP!!!!!  I don't know about you, but I would not feel comfortable saving people from a burning building with a hose and a prayer........I would be more worried about my own ass.  (sorry, I don't like fire.......I like water.  I will save you there, but I run from fire...........and bears.  Bears will kill you.....actually, that is a joke.  Don't run from bears.  If you do then bears will kill you.......seriously.)  
   For this reason I do not blame any Firefighter who is scared shitless when they have to make a river rescue, because I can guarantee I would be scared inside that burning building.  (which is why I would probably run)  Firefighters have a tough job because they need to have talents in so many different areas."

   Based on the situation that I witnessed at Pipeline combined with my past experiences with River Rescue, safety on the James, the knowledge of paddlers, etc., I had one question that continued to resonate in my mind...........................If River Rescue had responded to the scene of "The Dumb Ass on The Log" and been forced to attempt a river rescue in Hollywood at fifteen feet, would they have been successful?..................every paddler in this town already knows the answer to this question...........NO.  I need to make it clear that I do not enjoy using honesty and bluntness to answer that question, but it is the truth.
   I bring that point up for a reason.  Hollywood at Fifteen+ feet is an extremely deadly environment, and as I have stated before , if you are going to paddle The James at that level, you damn well better know what you are doing.  River Rescue does not have the experience to make those rescues, but more importantly, based on my observations in the past, there is the possibility one of them could drown during the rescue.  If that were to happen, the paddling community should ask this question.......Who would that death fall on?  Not the firefighters, they are heroes.  Not the city.  The don't take responsibility for shit! (ex. Baseball Field....dumb asses).............It would fall on the kayaking community.  And if it fell on us we would justify that asshole Curt Autry stating that the rivah should be closed down over twelve feet, but more importantly, we would have a heavy weight to bear as a community, with little or no voice about our home away from (or in my case my home at my home.......or something like that).

"Great leadership does not mean running away from reality. Sometimes the hard truths might just demoralize the company, but at other times sharing difficulties can inspire people to take action that will make the situation better."
                                                    ~John Kotter~ 
   What can we do about it?  Well, we can continue doing what we have been doing and talk about all these great things we can do, and then have a big meeting about it, and then have another meeting with the heads of all the little organizations.....oooh, it could be at Legend's.  That would make us really cool.  Then we could get the outfitters involved, and then have another meeting about that.(are you starting to get my point........eventually I think they actually did go rafting last summer........right boys?)...................or we can actually identify the people who can "get shit done" and allow them to do the things we all know they are capable of doing (The Fat Bastard of Fourteenth Street does NOT fall under this category).  The fact is we as a paddling community will never be as strong as we could be with a rift between ourselves and River Rescue.  The situation that I described above is a time bomb ticking.  Every year we get better at kayaking, which means every year the risk factor is stepped up a little more.  In a previous post I discussed river levels.  The James has not seen a 20+ foot flood in 16.7 years.  We average one every 5 years (give or take).  We are overdue for that 20+ footer, and I know there are plenty of boaters in this town just drooling at the chance to run the Lower at that level................unfortunately a lot of those paddlers are dumb ass college kids encouraged through Team WAV to run shit they are not ready for.  (Example #1.....go read "The Dumb Ass on the Log".  Team WAV was involved in that debacle.)  This is one example of what will lead to this recipe becoming an unfortunate reality.
   I don't have the answers to the question of exactly what to do about the situation.  That is not my job.  My job is to call it out so that hopefully the kayaking community will start talking about it (instead of talking about the crazy dude living on an island........what's with that guy?)  Hopefully the people who have the ability to make an impact can come to the table, instead of the ones just looking for the notoriety of being involved.  I think the community has already done a good job of exemplifying the results of that path.  As far as I am concerned, there is only one person in this town who can link the two groups together............and he is the only one who has actually produced results.  Some of you guys should stop running your mouths long enough to see what is actually being accomplished.  If everyone were on that page, we wouldn't need to hear about "Dumb Asses on a Log"............now would we?

"Leadership is action, not position."
                                   ~Donald H. McGannon

Pray For Rain.  See ya on the rivah................hopefully not on a log.  (sorry, I couldn't help it)


      
 
           

     

The Great Mental Health Med Debate

"It's better to feel pain than nothing at all.  The opposite of love's indifference."
                                        ~The Lumineers~

   About two years ago I went to the doctor and told him life sucked.  He responded by using his wealth of medical knowledge and 10 years of medical school to solve the problem.................he gave me a pill. (thank God for degrees, otherwise, how the hell would we know who can give us our pills)  I went back three months later and told him "the shit didn't work", so he gave me a bigger pill.  Then I went back six months later and told him "the bigger shit didn't work", so he gave me the biggest pill..............I didn't bother going back to him again.  I decided instead to start thinking for myself.  My conclusion was that ever since I started taking the pill the doc gave me I felt like someone else, acted like someone else, and lacked any emotional connections with anyone.  I call it the "I don't give a fuck pill."..............because that is what it does.  The doctor also gave me the "get shit done pill", medically known as Adderall, but we will get to that little blue beast later...........long story short, thanks for the speed doc!
   The reason I begin with this story is because something in my life, and more importantly, inside myself, has changed in the past two weeks.  I decide to cold turkey the "I don't give a shit pill."  40mg of Celexa, just dropped out of my system all at once.  I was told this was not a good idea, and the little doctor inside my computer told me through Google that I was going to feel like shit..........he was right. (because everything that Google says is the truth....otherwise they wouldn't allow us to see it.......right?)  It was harder than I thought it would be, but I used kayaking, work, and friends to get through the situation.  (Thank you to everyone involved) After about two weeks of constantly feeling like I had the flu and seriously screwy sleeping patterns I am starting to actually feel like a human being again..........I am actually able to feel anything again.  It's very strange.................I also couldn't feel my fingers or toes for about a week.  That was strange too.
   A good friend who helped me get through the withdrawals put it best.  He said, "you got duped by Big Drug America."  I agree with him 100%.  Anyone who reads this site regularly knows that my one true vice (besides beautiful, half naked strippers of course) does not happen to be legal.  Let me rephrase, that.........my one true vice does not happen to be legal in Virginia.  (don't even get me started on that). Because of it's problems with our laws, I have a bit of experience in illegal drug dealing.  I also have plenty of experience in going to the doctor and being given a prescription, otherwise known as legal drug dealing. My point is this:  THEY ARE THE EXACT SAME!!!  My second point is this:  OUR SYSTEM IS A FUCKING JOKE!!!
   The last two years have been a spiraling black hole of destroyed friendships, broken family ties,  failed relationships, and resentments towards people who loved me........those were the results of that wonderful little pill.  Now, here is the part where you learn how much of an asshole I am...................I do not take any of it back, and yes, I am that stubborn.  I truly believe that everything happened for a reason, and that the true colors of the people around me were reveled through the experience.  The list of cut ties in my life is long, and I do not ever plan on mending any of them. But more importantly, the list of new friendships in my life is longer.......and that is my future.
   The cool part about all of it is that there were so many people who stood by my side, no matter how bad it got, and dealt with my bull shit in stride.  That is friendship, and I am indebted to you all for life.  Thank you. (and to the haters, trust me when I say this. There are many on that side who still have close ties to me.  They are just smart enough to keep it to themselves.  They know you expect them to choose.........seriously boys, that's fucked up.)    
   There have been a lot of people who told me I have been writing with a different style the past few weeks. I wouldn't have noticed.  When I sit down I simply write about what is on my mind, and I allow however I feel at the time to dictate what I decide to say.  I am not doing this to call people out constantly, prove a point, or even tell a good story here or there.  Those are all just bonuses.  I am doing this because I realized that I have to get it out before I move on......................it is that simple.  It doesn't seem fair that everyone else gets to talk about it and tell their versions of the story, but the one person who it actually happened to doesn't get to tell his side.  Remember..........everyone's perception is their own reality.  That goes for us all.
   I am grateful for a few things along the way.  First, I convinced myself that I could have a successful relationship with a 20 year old home wrecking whore during the ride........what a fucking joke that was.  But I did date her, and she is not a nice person.  However, I am grateful that the entire time I did date her I was taking those little pills.  It helped me "not give a shit" about her constant bull shit and whining, and it never gave her the opportunity to have the real me.  I mean, she chased me for years, and then when she finally got me I became a different person and was a real asshole.  You may have gotten the best of me in a lot of ways FSW, but the one thing you NEVER had was the real me.  For that I am truly grateful, because the real me ROCKS, and Marcelle was the ONLY girl who ever deserved that part of me.
   Second, I am grateful for the ones who never left.  There are so many, and you are not only my friends.  You are my family as well.  Thank you.
   Finally, I am grateful for the ones I have met along the way.  I have made A LOT of new friendships that I value more than any I have ever had before.  It is a pretty cool experience and helps me look forward to the future.

"Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism."
              ~Carl Jung~

    This post is not going to do anything to solve the med debate.  We are a country addicted to pills.  They are everywhere, in every form.  I don't know how I am not dead.  In 2010 I was The Sports and Aquatics Director for the Y, raised two boys, one of which was a baby,  assisted in building a private outdoor camp, led the kayaking element and all equipment inventory on weekends, had a night job cleaning a pool near my home, played on two soccer teams twice on week nights and once on weekends, and kayaked as much as possible, as well as traveling to kayak..................the only way a human being can accomplish that is if they are on speed!  Sad thing was, I pulled it off for so long people didn't even notice when I started collapsing.  The point is, pills are dangerous.  I don't care if you are swiping them from a shady back door dealer, or are walking into CVS with your little piece of paper.  It is all the same. The people bad mouthing marijuana are probably all popping pills as they do it....................so shame on you.  Its a fucking weed.  It grows in the dirt.  You are going to go out of your way to screw money out of the poor by making that illegal, and then turn around and mass produce synthetic drugs, legalize them, and then have a man that is friends with you hand out prescriptions like they are candy.  That is fucked up and is yet another reason I hate the system. Only poor people are arrested for marijuana but everyone smokes it.  It makes no sense to me.  Then in "rehab", the poor people are convinced they need pills to be happy.  That is even more fucked up!
   Anyway, this post derailed from its original objective, but I don't care.  It is somewhat of the beginnings of my story, so now you have a bit of a background about what is coming, because the bulk of the story begins in 2010 when things started getting crazy.  Before I go, think about one thing.  If you are a healthy, young adult and you wake up in the morning and put a pill in your mouth to go about your day, ask yourself this question......what would my day be like without it?  More importantly, what would I be like without it?  If the answer is something other than who you already are, then you are bull shitting yourself as badly as I bullshitted myself.  Feelings can suck, especially when bad shit happens to us in our lives.  But feelings can also be wonderful.  Watching the birth of your sons, falling in love, scoring the winning goal, styling a perfect waterfall, walking alone through a forest, climbing a mountain, mountain biking, surfing, reading a great book, discovering a new way to live, solo boating at midnight under a full moon, dropping Gorilla, walking into Lane Stadium on a Thursday night...............or looking into your own children's eyes after a long absence: These are the reasons I stopped putting that shit in my body.  I don't just want to be there anymore.  I want to be a part of it all.  I want to feel everything the world has to offer, so bring it on!

"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."
                                                                                                            ~Henry David Thoreau~ 

Pray for Rain!  See ya on the rivah.....................PEACE
          

Week Fourteen - The Conclusion of "Adventures in a Strip Club"

"Have you ever wondered if those dollar bills in your wallet might have once been in a strippers butt? You're wondering now..."

                                          ~Anonymous -but whomever said it is a genius~

   Saturday came and I was blurry eyed, a little bit hungover (I had four beers.  How sad is that), and not in the mood to paddle...........but the water was still up so I had no choice.  Problem was, all I could think about were strippers.  What can I say, my brain is easily poisoned.  Seriously, I ran the Poop Shoot and missed my line because I was thinking about the strippers.  After a quick workout on "The Middle Lines" (record time - 48 minutes, even with carnage at The Poop Shoot), I drove out to an anonymous friends house to hang for the evening.  My friend is a big part of this story, so we will call him "The Man" for the sake of the story, and because he is a stern Republican (get it).  He IS the man in my opinion, and this story will explain why.

   I arrived at The Mans house for a night of chilling and low key conversation........but again, all I could think about was strippers.  After watching some TV (which for some reason no longer interests me after being on The Island) I asked him if he wanted to go out for the evening.  The Man is entrenched deeply in the pits of domestication, with the wife, kid, house in the suburbs, dog, two cats, his own company, and stress......lots of it, at least according to him.  Getting this kind of a person to go out after 8pm once they hit their 30's is an impossible task.  His wife and daughter were out of town, and he is not poor by any means, so the excuses were pathetic and weak.  I decided that I would tempt him with stories of the previous night, and although he was intrigued, he wasn't biting.  So I decided to go to Plan B...........feed him half a bottle of Crown Royal and then ask again, "would you like to go to the Strip Club?"  Once the bottle was finished the answer was a very confident "HELL YES!", so away we went.

   Obviously I was the DD, and by the time we got there, I was worried about The Man's ability to properly function inside the club, but he is notorious for rallying better than anyone.  I promised him we wouldn't need to spend that much money, which was important since he knew I was broke.  He is used to nights being on him, which is not always fair.  We do however, always have a great time in whatever we do, so there was no telling where this night would lead us.  After arriving, we were greeted by my new friends and had a seat in the corner, engaging ourselves in conversations with beautiful, half naked women.  The night was early, and it was slow, so we had plenty of friends to talk to.  After a while, The Man leaned over and told me that since I had never had a lap dance I was going to be experiencing one tonight.............obviously the Crown Royal was kicking in.  I told him I was all good, and would rather he receive a lap dance and enjoy his escape from the depths of domestication.  

   Then I met Kendall......obviously that is not her real name, but I didn't care.  Kendall was absolutely beautiful, innocent looking (which made her even more attractive), and came over and sat right next to me when I was alone.  I found this interesting because I am pretty sure she was reading me perfectly, and new that out of every girl in the place, I found her to be a cut above the rest.  We spoke for a few minutes, and then I turned to The Man and subtly asked, "Is that lap dance offer still on the table?"  He laughed and said "yea.  Sure buddy."  Then he got up and staggered across the room.  Kendall asked me if he was ok, and I simply stated, "He is drunk as shit."  After a minute or two I realized I needed to indeed check to see if he was ok.  I thought he had gone to the bathroom, but when I stepped into the other room, I found that he was at the ATM.

   Now, there is something very important you need to know about The Man.  When he is sober, he is the tightest person I have ever seen with money.  When he is drunk, shit is going to go down, no matter the cost. Knowing this about him, I hurried over to the ATM and said, "dude, it is only 65 bucks for a lap dance, so take it easy."

   "Too late bro!  I got out 500.....lets go get some strippers!!!!"

   Quote of the night if you ask me, maybe the year. (by the way, his justification for this was that the ATM charged him 30 bucks in service fees, so he wanted to make it worth the surcharge.  That is how the mind works on Crown Royal)  Before I knew what was happening I was handed a wad of 20's and told to summon the strippers.  I followed directions, but I was cut off by my friend from The Canal on the way back across the room.  Now, it is important to remember that in the last post I stated she "could work a room better than Governor McDonnell's wife at a fundraiser in her own home?"  Well, she could work a clueless man with a wad of cash in his hand just as well.  Before long, she had worked out some sort of deal so that both The Man and I had a two for one. (still not sure what that means)  We were then both taken away to another floor.............on the way up the stairs I understood what it is like for rafting customers walking down the trail on their way to the river.  I was excited, curious, confused, a little frightened, and totally at the mercy of Kendall.
   This is the part where I disappoint everyone and let you know of rule #2 at the club........what happens in the Champagne Room stays in the Champagne Room.  But I will tell you that Chris Rock is right.......there is no sex in the Champagne Room.  There is however plenty of other shit going on in there. As I exited my newly discovered favorite room on earth I tallied up the things that I had learned............
1.  I have nothing to compare this too, but I am pretty sure Kendall is amazing at her job.
2.  I am also pretty sure that Kendall is my next ex-wife.  (seriously, no one marries a stripper for life)
3.  The Man is and always will be The Man (you hear that you stubborn SOB!)
4.  I had broken Rule #1.........although I have no soul, I had fallen in love with a stripper. (Thanks T-Pain)        

   The remainder of the night was a complete blur of amazingly beautiful women, funny ass conversations with strippers about stripping, and an even more in-depth knowledge of the social dynamics of a strip club.  Thank you to all the girls at the club for displaying your amazing talents. (seriously, some of those girls can do things on a pole I thought to have been impossible.........somehow that came out wrong.)  But in all seriousness, you ladies have some unique talents and I feel you are underpaid for the services you provide.  (God I hope they read this)
   The next day was rather blurry again.  Can't figure out why that would be.........I remember waking up in the apartment above the strip club where myself, The Man, The Dude, and half the work force of Rougue had ended the night with a lengthy conversation about safety on the river.  Hey, what can I say.......strippers are all about river safety.  There was supposed to be a scheduled raft trip in the afternoon with a boat full of strippers the next day (just for the shock and awe aspect.............it would have given you haters plenty to talk about for the next week), however I learned one more important rule..............anything scheduled before 5pm that involves strippers only has a 50% chance of happening.  Also, the river was still just below nine feet, so things were pumping.  Due to this, the haters at Fourteenth Street can now look forward to a boat full of strippers cruising down the river later on this month.
   The Man once again rallied like a champion though, and we decided to end the craziest week of my year with an R-2 trip down the James at 8.5 feet.  I was hurting at this point, and my guiding skills showed it.  I styled it through Hollywood, almost killed The Man trying to surf X's, missed the ferry after 2nd Break (which I have NEVER missed before), and barely missed the hole at Third Drop.  My ego is about to speak..........when I am fucking up that bad guiding a raft, you know it was a good night.  There could not have been a better conclusion to the week.

~Quote~

'There is a strip club in California named Plan B.  When the owner was asked, "why did you name your club Plan B?", he responded, "going out and picking up a woman to get naked for you is Plan A.......if that fails, go to Plan B."  That strip club owner is a genius.'   



    I want to conclude with one very important note................I am experiencing life in my own way right now, and that is a good thing.  But every moment of every experience is paralleled with a gaping hole that exists in my soul.  At times, I question whether I even have a soul anymore.  All the beautiful strippers, endless whitewater, late nights with the boys, bikini clad beach girls, or Absinthe induced bonfires will never overshadow the pain I feel every moment of every day missing my boys.  I have not forgotten and I am not giving up.  There have been a lot of terrible things said to me lately by a lot of fucked in the head butt hurt people concerning my children. Things like "how does it feel to know your kids call another man daddy" and "you are a degenerate piece of shit that deserves to have your children taken (followed by being spit in the face with dip spit).  I don't know why anyone would do something like that, but I know I have this ability to type words that generate an extreme amount of emotion and rage from people.  I want the people that say those things to know this.........it hurts, badly.  You are both fathers and you are both extremely butt hurt assholes.  I do not know why.  But I do know this.  If the tables were turned and you were in my shoes, no amount of anger or rage could ever allow me to attack you about your children.  I just know that I could never bring myself to do it.  THAT is why I will finish what I have started.  I have also heard that the rumor is that I gave up on my children.  This is as far from the truth as possible, but on this note I feel no need to explain myself............I will simply say "Fuck you!"
   If you are ever curious to know what it feels like to be in my shoes, listen carefully to the following words and watch the video........closely.  Hopefully my boys find their own smiles from the backseat, and remember boys, keep your head up.  Daddy loves you.

   Keep praying for rain.  It's only half time.  Rivers coming up and the weather gods haven't abandoned us yet.  Enjoy the weekend and I will see ya on the rivah........PEACE! 

Week Fourteen Part III "Craziest week yet!....Absinthe induced fires, High Water, Strippers, and River Rescues"

*****I have chosen to skip over Part II of Week 14 due to my struggles to write the post correctly.  It involves a river rescue and individuals who's feelings I care about.  I will tell the story, but it will have to wait until I feel it has been written honestly, respectfully, and with conviction.  Enjoy Part III.  It's surprising, and pretty damn funny.*****


Part III - My Social Education from a Stripper.....I mean Exotic Dancer


“Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.”
                                               ~Dr. Seuss~

I'm really trying to believe in this one guys......I promise, I am.

   Tuesday was just one of those weird days where you get to the end and wonder how the hell so many abnormal things happened in 12 hours. (Part II)  I decided that due to the amount of 'experiences' I already had for the week, it was best to use Hump Day as an Island day.  It turned out to be a good day for it, because it rained throughout the day.  I slept, and slept a lot.  I have not slept like I did on this day in a long time.  The weather helped, but I do not sleep during the day very often at all.  It was almost like a mid-summer hibernation.  I did complete one entire lap of "The Middle Lines" and hit a few rounds at Pipeline.......but for the most part I slept.  It was like being in a kayaking dream for an entire day.  Rain, kayaking, wilderness, and sleep.  I know every true paddler out there can imagine how cool of an experience this was.   

   On Wednesday evening I decided to paddle to The Marina and walk to dinner.  I walked back pretty late and Gator'd my boat to Brown's Island, then geared up and walked up The Canal.  While on my way up I ran into a nice girl and her dog, and started talking with her.  We had a lot in common, talked for a while, and then I explained why I was dressed in kayaking gear holding a paddle, but did not have a boat.  (it was a pretty awkward conversation until I explained myself)  We hung out for a while, talked a lot about river safety and safety meetings (she was very interested in knowing a lot about safety on the rivah), and then exchanged contact info and went on our way.

   On Thursday evening I decided to DD some of the boys to Legend's for a night out.  There were lots of beers, lots of funny ass conversations, and some late night puking........but everyone survived and I took my DD duties seriously.....which is pretty easy considering I don't really drink.  Due to the late night debauchery, I assumed Friday morning would be a slow day of work.  I was wrong.  We were there right on time and had a full on day............rallying like champions!  I was impressed.  :)  

   The most interesting part about Thursday evening was that I decided to call the girl from the Canal to see if she wanted to hang out with us.  She was nice and said that she would love to, but was working.  It had never dawned on me to ask her what she did.  Then the following conversation took place........

Canal Walk Girl - "You should come by and visit me at work."

Me - "O.k.  Where do you work?"

Canal Walk Girl - "Well, have you ever heard of a club called Rouge?"

Me -  "Uhhhhhhhhhhh?......Uhhhhhhhhhh?

Canal Walk Girl - (laughing), "It's ok Justin.  You can say something."

Me -  "Uhhhhhhhhhh?....not really sure what to say."

(at this point I put my hand over the phone, looked at my friends, and mouthed the words, "She is a Fucking Stripper!")

Canal Walk Girl - "Why don't you come by tomorrow night early and say hi.  I promise you that I won't bite."

Me - "......................damn it"

(I didn't really say that.  I was just thinking it)

   What is so interesting about this conversation and the situation I now found myself in is that I had never actually been to a strip club, and I swear I am not lying about this.  There were a few private strippers at bachelor parties, but in all honesty, those chicks kind of scared me.  (I am pretty sure the last one I experienced was on Meth.)  But this was different.  I met this nice young lady on The Canal Walk while she was walking her dog in Umbros and a T-shirt.  (I have a confession to make. She reminded me of Marcelle)  The last thing I ever would have thought was she was a stripper.........which meant I was judging strippers based on stereotypes, which made me a fucking hypocrite.  That isn't really fair to strippers, because as my friend put it to me..........."strippers are people too bro." (This is true)

   So on Friday after the day ended I took my daily walk to the coffee shop and talked with Lindy.  (Believe it or not, I considered inviting Lindy to the Strip Club, but was afraid the experience might kill him)  Then I cruised up the road around 7pm to have yet another first time experience.........a visit to a strip club. 

“If someone is able to show me that what I think or do is not right, I will happily change, for I seek the truth, by which no one was ever truly harmed. It is the person who continues in his self-deception and ignorance who is harmed.” 

                                                         ~Marcus Aurelius, Meditations~

   So the situation was set.  I walked into my first strip club, alone, at 7pm, on a Friday, with seven bucks, and I had just taken a safety break............this was not a good situation for me.  As soon as I entered I realized I was in WAY over my head.  For those of you you have never entered a strip club at 7pm on a Friday, let me paint you a picture.  There are about 30 girls, all standing around looking very beautiful.......and naked, with nothing to do, and maybe two crusty old dudes creepin' everyone out.....................and me, looking like a deer in headlights. (and probably also looking like a crusty old dude creepin' everyone out)  I had no fucking clue what to do, and my friend was nowhere to be seen.  I was screwed.

   I decided the best thing to do was get a beer, so I ordered the cheapest beer they had, the People's Beer of RVA.  I figured I was safe with that.  "Five dollars", the bartender responded.  Damn it.  Now I have two dollars and have been here three minutes.  I felt like Dave Chappelle in Half Baked when he tried to go out on a date without letting the girl know he was broke.  I figured my safest bet was to retreat into the corner and pray I could just hide in the shadows and wait until I saw friendly forces arrive.  

   After about half an hour of not fitting in at all and looking confused, bewildered, impressed, shocked, scared shitless, and probably a bit creepy, a nice young lady approached me who wasn't trying to take the two bucks I had left in my pocket.  (I was now guarding these two dollars with my life)  She sat down and talked with me for a moment.  The conversation went something like this...........

Me - "Ummmmm, do you know (name omitted for anonymity)?"

Nice Stripper - "yea, but she doesn't come in until nine."

Me - "Seriously?"

Nice Stripper - "yea.  why?"

Me - "Welllllllll, believe it or not I had never been in a strip club until about half an hour ago and I have no clue what to do.  I am meeting her here" 

Nice Stripper - "That explains why you look so clueless."

Me - "Thanks"

   She took pity on me and we talked for a while, and I found her to be very intriguing.  You see, I grew up playing soccer and I was a goalkeeper.  Anyone who knows soccer, knows that goalkeepers are weird, crazy, usually agro as hell, and unpredictable.  These traits also describe every woman I have ever been attracted too.  I asked her how she had become a stripper, all while appreciating the athletic talents of the girls on stage.  (I was multitasking)  She said she had played soccer and had torn her ACL, and when it healed she started dancing and found it to be athletic and fun.  Then I asked her what position she played..........yep, you guessed it, "Goalkeeper".  As I have stated before, I don't go looking for this shit, it simply falls into my lap.  (No pun intended......lap dance....get it.)

   Eventually, one of my friends friends (we will call him "The Dude".......yes Lebowski fans, I did that) came into the club to track me down.  He approached me, asked me if I was Justin, and I said yes.  He then said (The Canal Girl) was upstairs and that I was in the wrong place..............figures.  I followed him upstairs and was happy that I was still alive exiting the club.  After some time hanging out in her apartment (yes, she lived above the club, which was actually very cool.....I will explain later), The Dude talked me into a 'cheap' night downstairs at the club.
   The next six hours of my life were spent being given an in-depth social education on the dynamics of a strip club.  I was fascinated.  Some of these girls can work a room better than Governor McDonnells wife at a private fundraiser in her own home.  They were good, and the girl I had met on the Canal Walk was by far the best.  It was impressive.
   My conclusions from the night were as follow:
1.  Stripping and Raft Guiding are pretty much the same -  A good guide is going to create the environment for their clients, and give them every emotion possible on a trip.  They should be excited, scared, determined, worried, happy, relaxed, and appreciative of the environment around them.  A good stripper is going to create an environment as well.  Half the guys in there were nothing more than lonely old dudes who wanted someone to talk to.  They knew they were not going home with these girls, but they also knew that outside of the club these girls would never even bother to have a conversation with them.  They go home feeling self confident and satisfied with their social manhood...........and they probably have a massive case of blue balls as well. Additionally, strippers and river guides both work for tips.....strippers just make a shitload more money than we do.  (On that note, for all the butt hurt women reading this blog right now and turning their noses up at strippers.......those girls make a lot more money than you, and they probably have better social skills as well, so get the fuck over yourselves.  You're not that special.........strippers are.)
2.  Most of the girls working there were hot.....really hot.  I stated earlier that I was a hypocrite for judging strippers, which is true.  Another stereotype I had about them was that they all looked like meth'd out trailer trash.  (if you are reading this and live in a trailer..........my bad.  But if you are reading this and are meth'd out........get help.  If you are both meth'd out and living in a trailer, try not to blow anything up......and get help.)
3.  I had a fucking awesome time!  The girls didn't care that I was a broke homeless man living on an island.  I straight up told them about my situation, and not a single one of them judged me for it.  Plus, they kept talking to me knowing I was broke.  They were all nice as can be, and we had the same conversations that I would have had in a bar.............only with hot, naked girls.  How could I have not had a good time.
4.  This is by far the most important rule.............DON'T FALL IN LOVE WITH THE STRIPPERS!  For me, this was going to be a challenge.  If there is one weakness in my life, it's beautiful, half naked women.............I doubt I am alone in this.

   I had such a great time, I decided that a second visit on Saturday night was needed, only this time the experience turned out to be much different...........................................(To Be Continued)



“I was a hip kid. When I saw Bambi it was the midnight show.”
~George Carlin~

Pray for Rain.  See ya on the rivah......or at the strip club.  PEACE!






 



 

Fourteenth Street Bull Shit Drama

*****This post actually has nothing to do with anything negative involving Fourteenth Street or the bull shit going on there.  It is nothing more than a sociological experiment .  I have led you astray to prove a point.  You have already clicked on it and can't take it back, so you may as well just participate.  The following is a listing of the hits recorded for each post since I began this project. They are listed from the most popular down, as well as showing the number of readers for each.  All negative post involving bull shit are in red, all Island posts are in black.  I assumed that by titling this post what I titled it, you were more likely to click on it based on the number below.  Yea, I'm twisted like that............................  

"Welcome to the Jungle" -                                         16,790
"Dumb Ass on a Log" -                                              13,110
"I'm Being Called Out a lot these Days"                    12,700 
"Seriously?.....Fourteenth Street Lacks Soul"           12,228
"The Minus Days and Week 1"                                  12,160
"Editorial II:  Where the hell am I going..."              12,060
"The Fourteenth Street Hate Club"                          11,860
"Final Words on Last Weeks Flood Post"                11,770
"Week II:  All about the Whitewater"                       11,660
"Week Four:  RVA History"                                      9,167       


   The numbers decline dramatically from here and are all over the place.  After tracking this for the last three months, one thing is certain.  I am heartbroken and disappointed in humanity.  I have written a total of 23 posts, and 6 have been negative.  All six are on the list above.........WHAT THE FUCK PEOPLE!!!!!!!  This is a blunt, in your face perspective of what the public is attracted to.  I am not being critical.  I know it is like a car accident. You just can't turn away, although you know you don't want to see it.  What bugs me is that no one really cares if I live on an island or not.  I built my audience based on all the bull shit.  A friend of mine told me that he was sick and tired of going out and hearing the paddling crew bitch non stop about what I write.  He said he always asked them the same question....."Why the hell are you reading it?"  He said most people never really gave an answer.  They just kind of changed the course of the conversation.  I know there are plenty of people who love reading about The Island, which I plan to continue to write.  But it appears the driving force of the blog comes from either the haters, or the people who love drama.  Fact is, most of those people would probably deny that they do read it, like the ones who are reading this post now.  
   The second thing that I am finding sickening is the consistency in which the top posts are receiving hits.  The numbers at the bottom of the list are all over the place.  Week Five only received 1700 hits, and that is one of my favorite weeks.  It is about paddling Reedy Creek, and has the only video on the entire blog.  The point is, people are consistently following the bull shit story, but are not following The Island story.  It's a following of bull shit.............which really sucks.
   Third, now that I started the Bull Shit story, I have to finish it, and worst of all, the numbers are getting worse.  Keep in mind, that a lot of those posts that are at the top have only been on the blog for a week or so.  That is scary.  So I am going to make a promise to the public that I made to a friend as well.  I am going to vomit all the bull shit out of my system by the end of August.  The story of "The Fourteenth Street Whore", "The Fat Bastard of Fourteenth Street", "The Teacher"........he is probably going to get off if he stays quiet, and finally, the most important story and the one I fear writing........the story of Marcelle, and more importantly the story about me, and what I did, because I can assure you, if you think I hate on others, wait until I unload on myself.  (That just didn't come out right)
   Anyway, I want everyone at Fourteenth Street to know one thing..........I'm tired.  I'm tired of the fight, and I am tired of being disappointed.  Don't get me wrong........this is not me backing down or giving in.  I WILL finish what I started.  But I don't like it, and I never did.  I'm just too stubborn to give in and the way I see it, I have come this far, so I might as well finish what I started.
   With that being said, I will address what happened on Saturday at the takeout later on this week.  Once again, I am in need of explaining myself, but I will say right now..........I fucked up Saturday, and paid for my mistake.  Do me a favor, if you are reading this and you haven't read some of the posts about The Island, go do it.  The project is really cool and deserves the attention it could be getting.  Thanks everyone.  Pray for rain this week........See ya on the rivah.  PEACE



 HERE IS A NICELY ADDED RANT....................................
   Additionally, the choice to read what you read and make an opinion on whatever you have a problem with is exactly that...........a choice.  It is a choice that you have the freedom to make, just like the choices I make on how to portray our paddling community.  I have used blunt, honest, no bull shit facts to explain certain situations, and I have no regrets about the topics I chose to write about or the information contained in them, nor will I regret anything I write in the future.  I can't help it if you decide to read a post and then become upset with the viewpoint.  And more importantly, I certainly will not take blame for you then clicking and reading the next post, knowing you will probably disagree with that as well.  Am I using the kayaking community as an example of social inequalities in our society?......yes.  Do I think they are an accurate population to represent a larger social group?..........hell no!!  We are whitewater kayakers.  We are all fucking crazy, and the better at boating we become, the crazier we all are.  We love to run waterfalls, style giant rapids, and video ourselves doing it.  We all have MASSIVE egos, and every year the egos, the skill levels, and the number of boaters all grow larger.  It is about as far away from a social norm as you can possibly get.........................which is what makes it so damn fun sometimes.  So to all the haters out there.  Do me a favor and lighten the hell up........................it's not that bad.  And remember, it's YOUR choice whether you decide to read it.   PEACE

Week Fourteen Part I - "Craziest week yet!....Absenthe induced fires, High Water, Strippers, and River Rescues" Part I - The Early Week

"The soul is healed by being with children."
~English Proverb~

   Week Fourteen represented my ability to demonstrate what I had found a way to do in Week 12.............to just say "Fuck It!"  The week started with the raft trip to The Island on July 3rd with Lindy to see the fireworks, the same day as "The Great Belle Island Goose Herd".  Needless to say, I was exhausted on July Fourth, so I am glad it was a holiday.  I have already written about the firework adventures with Lindy in "Seriously???....Fourteenth Street truly DOES lack a Soul.", so feel free to catch up on it there.  July Fourth was spent kayaking, working on The Island with my chainsaw, and I unfortunately enjoyed the experience of losing my wallet and having my car break down within ten minutes of each other...........what a lovely experience THAT was!.......(yes people, that was sarcasm).  Friday, July Fifth made up for all the craziness because I was able to take my friends Matt and Liz, as well as a friend of theirs, on a raft trip, but more importantly, I was also able to take their six year old daughter Ava down the river.  This day meant a lot to me, for many obvious reasons.  First, it was spent with true and loyal friends.  I love so many things about Matt and Liz, but none more than their ability to never make a single judgment about me for my situation or the choices I have made.  They have stood by me through thick and thin, and have always made me feel like an equal.  I am guessing that is what Lindy meant when he told me why he loved The Island experience so much.  It means a lot to people to be seen for the positive qualities they possess within themselves and not the mistakes they have made in life..........it helps us all to move forward and away from the ugliness in our past.
   Second, Ava is probably the coolest kid I have ever met (aside from M and Q.......they are equally as cool).  I was not nervous about her safety on the trip, but I was on a very heightened alert to the fact that I had a young child in the boat.  I planned on very conservative lines.  Matt and Liz had been on the trip before at a similar water level and had agreed that Ava was ready......and ready she was.  There was no fear, no hesitation.  Just pure excitement, adventure, and fun.  She seemed to love every minute, never showed any signs of fear in the whitewater, and had a lovable, adventurous spirit about her the entire day.  The river was a pushy 8 feet (meaning that there was a bubble of water upstream of us and the river was on the rise and being pushed faster.  When this happens the river is pushier than when it is at 8 feet and receding.  Many river junkies will probably disagree with me on this theory, but I have enough experience to know that 8 feet on the rise is much more dangerous than 8 feet on the decline.  It is a much more unpredictable environment)  The trip was timed perfectly and the river rose to 11 feet by that evening, but Ava styled everything, including Pipeline at 8+ feet.  Her presence on the rivah made me think about M and Q and the excitement they will have when they return to the James.  There is something magical about watching a child experience a paddling trip on any rivah.  You can see in their eyes the happiness that paddling brings and know that you are giving that child a memory that will last forever.  I still remember my first paddling trips that my cousin took me on growing up.  Had it not been for those trips, I doubt I ever would have become a kayaker.........Thanks Bryan!  The experiences that Marlow and Quint had early on before things collapsed will hopefully remain in their hearts until we can experience them again.

Marlow paddling the Lower with daddy for the first time

Quint using a kayak for its sole purpose.....to have fun

“To be heroic is to be courageous enough to die for something; to be inspirational is to be crazy enough to live a little.”
                                                    ~Criss Jami, Venus in Arms~

   This is the point that life started to get very interesting, so there is a bit of a change in some of the stories that follow.  First, not everything in this blog is PG-13......some is rated R, and the following weeks follow a lot of that rated R trend.  Second, if you like me because you think I am an upstanding person who is squeaky clean..........DON'T keep reading, because you will be highly disappointed.  Third, the only things omitted are things that have legal ramifications to anyone involved, so just go with the story that is told.  The omitted points are not taking away from any of it.  Fourth, Marcelle would only use these stories against me if she, like Fourteenth Street, truly does lack a soul...........hear that Marcelle?

   So, let us begin.  I spent all of Saturday and Sunday solo paddling the Middle Lines between 9 and 11 feet, and recorded a lot of GoPro footage along the way.  I also completed small projects on The Island.  Between the two days, I completed the "Middle Lines Workout Program" five times.  I enjoyed the isolation of the weekend and the mid summer high water excursions.  The Middle Lines at 9 to 12 feet are just about perfect.  Things are nice and fluffy, with strong lines, but are still safe enough for me to handle solo.  I have paddled them higher, but definitely felt the nerves being out there alone.  At 9 to 12 feet, I am good to go. This truly has been a magical summer for any RVA paddler.  

   On Monday, I paddled into work early, cruising through Pipeline around nine feet on my way to the marina.  If you had told me five years ago that one day I would paddle straight to my job in the middle of July on a nine foot James I would have thought you were insane.  But it was a reality, and is just another experience from this summer that I will store away with all my memories of the James.   

  After work I drove the Gator (worlds best shuttle vehicle) up to Brown's Island to drop off my boat, then paddled over for yet another afternoon "Middle Lines" routine.  After about an hour of endless lines and boofs, I decided I wanted to get some dinner in Shockhoe Bottom, so I paddled down Pipeline alone.  It was overcast and windy, so when I arrived at the bottom of Pipeline I was surprised by what I found.  A lot of people have been hanging out on the beaches below Pipeline rapids during the past few summers, and any boater can tell you that the characters who occupy these beaches can be somewhat colorful with strong personalities.  I was pleasantly surprised to paddle up to the beach and find that the only occupants on this day to be lovely, bikini clad ladies.  It just so happened that I was out of water and thirsty, so I was in need of some sympathy and H2O.  What I received was rum and coke, and some very colorful attitude.  After about half an hour of highly amusing conversation, and Chrissy's attempt to throw me back out into the river where I came from, I was invited to dinner.......I think mostly out of sympathy for the fact I lived on an island.  But whatever, I will take it.  We had a nice dinner and I was able to meet some new friends.  I guy named Chris joined the scene for dinner, and he was a welcome addition to the group.  He was a motocross racer from the Northern Neck and traveled in a van that had a striking resemblance to the original A Team van.........how could you not like this guy.  We decided that the night needed to continue, so an impromptu sunset raft trip to The Island was in order.  After a brief visit to Fourteenth Street, some lovely encounters with fellow paddlers, and a quick safety meeting in the A Team Van (which was awesome!), we were on our way across the James as the sun set in the western sky and the skyline guarded our lines from the north.  The evening was spent with good conversation, a great bottle of Absinthe (the real stuff.......not that fake shit!), and some beautiful views of RVA and our rivah!  Thanks to Jean, Chrissy, Whitney, and Chris for all the fun that night.  There are very few people in this world who would be willing to jump in a raft for a night time paddle trip with someone they barely know, but you guys took a chance, and it paid off for everyone.  The paddle out through Pipeline was a 2 am raft ride around 8 feet, which just put an explanation point on the night!  My favorite thing about The Island is the amount of new and interesting people it has allowed my to meet and become friends with.  You guys were awesome on this night and I had a blast!

   Little did I know, this would be my most normal night of the entire week........................(To be continued)     

“Never fear quarrels, but seek hazardous adventures.”
                                  ~Alexandre Dumas~

See ya on the rivah.................PEACE

  

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

       


    

"I'm being called out A LOT these days......here is why"

"I do not agree with what you have to say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it."
                         ~Voltaire~

   There are a lot of people in this town who care about me........I have no clue why.  The more hate I write, the more people pay attention.  Am I pissed off?......yep.  Tired of putting up with peoples shit?......yep.  Do I think the system is a failure in every way possible?........absolutely!  It is for these reasons that I do write what I write, and I figure if I am going to do this, then I should do it bluntly, honestly, and with serious conviction.  Problem is, I am holding back.........A LOT!
   The main message that people have for me is the same over and over again........."why do you want to create this persona through your blog that you are a ruthless, cold-hearted asshole, when in reality you are a nice person who is actually trying to help others everyday and do the right thing."  The answer to that question is simple.  The person that I am outside of this blog is one that cares about the feelings of others, feels bad when I hurt someone, has an overwhelming feeling of guilt at what I did to destroy my beautiful family, and would do anything to help a TRUE and LOYAL friend.  That person has spent years being taken advantage of, walked all over, manipulated, and has a heart that is broken wide open.  I spent years working my ass off to improve an entire community (Petersburg), do the right thing for my children and family, help others learn to kayak, work hard to help organizations grow (yea River City, I am referring to you), and to be a good person.  In the end none of it mattered, in the least.  I lost everything, and once I no longer had anything to offer the world, the world turned its back on me.
   The person that speaks through this blog is tough as nails, a complete asshole, and does his best to not give a flying fuck what anyone else says, thinks, or does to hurt him.  Fact is, that person does not get fucked with, does not get walked all over, does not have to deal with biting his tongue when he sees others doing things to hurt people, and is the kind of person that people fear.  I mean, the Fat Bastard of Fourteenth Street runs like a little bitch when he sees me coming........and he should.  He should be scared shitless of me.  The person who writes this blog becomes more open minded everyday, stronger everyday, and has more self confidence than he ever had before.  Fact is, in this world, in this modern age, it is the ruthless asshole that comes out on top.  It is the sad and terrible world that has become a reality, but I can assure you, I am quickly learning how to be that ruthless asshole, and the longer people try to ignore it, the more ruthless I become.  This is the facts of the world we live in.

"The realization that friendship is greater than love doesn't come when you have real and honest friends.  You realize it when someone whom you always thought as a friend stabs you in the back. When I friend breaks your trust it hurts more than a lover abandoning you and then you realize that friendship is indeed greater than love.......While you are still figuring out the depth of your emotional connectivity, the ones who say they would never leave you, have already left.  Unfaithful love does break a heart, but an unworthy friend bruises your soul."
                                                                                                       ~ Srishti Raj~   

See ya on the rivah!.........low water.  There are no logs.  PEACE
     

Week 13 - Part I - "Lessons of Society"

“Don't gain the world & lose your soul, wisdom is better than silver or gold.”
         ~Bob Marley~

   Week 13 helped to remind me of why I was doing what I was doing.........to simplify my life and find peace within myself.  I took a solo trip to the Eastern Shore of Maryland to hang with some good people, escape the craziness of RVA for a short time, and try to find some inner peace and quietness.  I found it in the form of flat water kayaking and swims in a private heated pool...........yes, believe it or not, I found true inspiration and inner peace by paddling the Chesapeake Bay.  No rapids, no noise, no whitewater, or rocks, or boofs, or danger, or risk. Just calm strokes across open water with a quiet wind and beautiful sunset.  I truly found peace in escaping to the bay.

   I also saw some of the biggest houses I have ever seen.  I think the people on the Eastern Shore are doing all right for themselves.  I crashed with a couple who were wonderful and real people (thanks Ruthie and Andy!), and who had done pretty well for themselves. Hanging in a 2 million dollar home for a weekend after living on an island for 100 days is quite the change, and it gives a good perspective to a lot about this crazy society we live in.
   First, we all live pretty much the same.  Some do it in a box, some in a tent.  Others do it in a five thousand square foot mansion on a bay.  Some do it in a Yurt.  Some do it in a house boat.  The point is, we are all just living and trying to survive as comfortable as possible.  I just happen to be the kind of person who doesn't need much to be comfortable.  This isn't something that just happened after I lost my family.  My old friends used to rag on me for always looking homeless. (mainly because I love wearing sweatpants. Seriously people, sweat pants are awesome!) They did this during my marriage, when I had a house, wife, kids, and a career.  So I figure it didn't surprise anyone when I actually decided to become homeless.  I just don't see the point in having a home if there isn't a wife or kids to share it with.  I don't see the point of having much of anything if I don't have anyone to share it with.  My favorite book is "Into the Wild".  Christopher McCandless understood so many things that most people would never even acknowledge in their own lives. But still, after all those experiences, the last lesson he learned before dying was tragic.  His final thoughts were, "Happiness isn't real unless shared."  My message here is important, and it is directed at every young husband and father out there that struggles with understanding their place in this world.  I know it is tough fellas. I know you feel owned and operated and that your true spirit as a man has been stripped away and the spirit of adventure that exists inside us all is gone forever.  But remember this very important lesson..........the grass is always greener on the other side.  Complete happiness doesn't exist when you are alone.  It just doesn't.  That is the one fact I am sure I have learned through this experience.
   Second, comfort is all relative.  Human beings have an uncanny ability to adapt to their surroundings.  I am reading the "The Longest Walk" by Slavomir Rawicz.  It is about a group of polish war prisoners who escape from a camp in Northern Siberia during World War II..  Over the course of a year and a half they travel through Northern Siberia during the dead of winter, cross the Mongolian Desert, climb over the Himalayas, and drop into the freedom of India. Read this book and you will never complain about anything in your life again.  These people went through hell beyond anything we could ever possibly imagine.  They could have given up, but they didn't.  They adapted to the situation, and found the will to survive.  The point is, they adapted to hell and dealt with it.  If they can adapt to what they had to endure, then I can't complain about a little rain, humidity, and temps in the 90's........and the rest of us certainly shouldn't be complaining about the discomforts I hear people complain about. Remember, we have the choice to live however we choose, and I for one would prefer to do it my own way. If that means enduring some discomfort and couch surfing on nights that the heat is too bad, or the storms are raging, then I have no problem with that.  It is what it is.........plus, I have really great friends.  We live in a country where even the homeless have more than most in other countries.  We have no reason to complain about anything.
   Third, the amount of money a person has, or doesn't have, shouldn't dictate the level of respect they receive from society, and in this country, in this day and age, it does.  I can prove this. In my last post I wrote about a homeless man named Lindy.  Many days after work I walk from the Marina to the coffee shop along the Canal Walk.  When I do I make sure to say hello to anyone passing by and look them in the eyes.  They always say hello back to me.  On some of those days, I meet Lindy and walk with him to the coffee shop.  When I do, I find that people pass by us and look away or look down.  That is the reality of Lindy's world, and it's fucked up.  We as a society should be ashamed of ourselves.  I for one will NEVER pass by a homeless man again without saying hello and asking him if he is ok.  I am not criticizing anyone here.  Before this experience, I probably would have been guilty of the exact same thing.  That is why I feel grateful for what I am going through.  It is teaching me lessons I need to learn.  It is teaching me how to be a better person, and it is teaching me that money is pure evil.  Yes, it is necessary, but so is war.  That doesn't mean we have to like it.
 
“We all look back at some time or other and wonder why we didn't listen to our instincts. Why did we hesitate? Why did we lose our dreams?”
~Diane Griffith, Chasing Dreams in Lefkas~

   My instincts never told me that settling down, buying a house, sitting in a cubicle, and doing the same thing again and again and again, day after day, was want I was meant to do.  I have stated in previous posts that I am making this up as I go along.  I have a plan, I have a job, and I have the basic foundation needed for life. But not knowing what is going to happen next is inspiring.  I have considered hitting the road, and it may happen at some point.  But for now, The Island and this life is where my instincts have led me, and I found a small dream that I will now make a simple reality.  

   Listen to your own instincts, your own heart, and go find your dreams.  See ya on the rivah!  PEACE