Saturday was Cellarmaster Max's birthday and he was going to float. He likes to toss my blog phrases back in my face sometimes so we were invited with the acknowledgement that it would mean "giving up a magical unicorn butterfly day." Tyler RSVP'd a firm yes for both of us but then his mom said she was coming into town that day and he opted to go for a ride rather than risk being on the river until dusk. But I was committed. My pride was involved. I didn't even flake when some acquaintances said they were riding the Big Hole Crest. Nope. Floating.
Good job Subaru Pic courtesy of Andrea |
Our motley flotilla arranged a shuttle and put in: one driftboat, one raft, two creek boats, one whitewater canoe, and four inner tubes. As my competent friends fiddled with straps and coolers, the bizarre realization dawned on me: I've never been on any sort of watercraft on a river. Yeah, I've paddled and SUP'd and waterskied on lakes before but I've never even tubed on the French Broad, preferring to mock the tubers from shore. My parents were California river rats in the long ago and my dad got into whitewater in WNC but when he suggested teaching me to roll a kayak I heard "trapped upside down underwater" and never again considered river sports.
Could not have asked for a nicer day |
The whole gang! Pic courtesy of Ashley |
And I thought about rudimentary bike skills and how applicable they are to other sports. I don't know shit about boating but I know how to look forward, take a dynamic stance, widen my knees and arms, and engage my core. I consciously hit oncoming rapids on the perpendicular and pumped over waves like they were bumps on a trail. Do kayakers call it pumping? Probably not. But I started riding the water like singletrack with better form than I usually have on the bike (familiarity breeds laziness) and suddenly I was having a blast! I started figuring out which paddle motions were more effective and chasing down the little white riffles that meant interesting water. I kayaked the rest of the way while everyone else got chilly in their boats and I was sad to see the Hwy 22 bridge that indicated the take-out. We had traveled fifteen miles and somehow it was already almost 7:00.
Appropriate Pic courtesy of Andrea |
Hammock life Pic courtesy of Andrea |
No comments:
Post a Comment