Rollin’ on the River

Old Friends, New Friends, and All That Rock ‘N Roll

Ohmygod, I am SO.  Fucking.  SORE!!!

And bruised.  I am fully, completely bruised.    Battered.   Mauled.   I’m as covered in bruises as I was in mosquito bites two weeks ago.

A bunch of us went canoeing before work one day this week.     It’s the easiest thing, you go to Front Street and the guy at the trading post has canoes and paddles and dry-bags and you pay him twenty dollars to drive you twenty minutes down the freeway and drop you off with the Canoes.   Then you paddle back to town – it’s only like a two hour paddle.    I’ve been here four years and never taken advantage of this.     Never had the time, and it’s…  It’s a Serious Goddamn River.      The Klondike is a river that Takes People.    Every year, it seems.   Locals as well as tourists.   Winter and summer.   Through the ice, under rapids, and down, and gone.

That being said, any joe who wants to can rent these canoes, and drunk people do this all the time.   Really, you wear your life jackets and don’t be dumb and you will be fine.  You might loose all your shit, but you’ll be fine.

Well, I AM fine – despite what my legs may look like.

We were having so much fun!   There were four canoes.  Nine people.   Lots of paddling experience  between us.   (with me it’s all kayak, but it still helps).    And we were all doing so well.    The swift, clear river was at a perfect level, it was fast and deep but not crazy deep,  and Richard in the stern of my boat was excellent at guiding me in what I should be doing.  I now know what it means to Draw!     Everything was green and lush and sunny, and there was a hell of a lot of laughing.     Bound and determined to not be a Lilly Dipper (not paddling my own weight)  I dug in so hard I could feel my shoulders bunching and straining and heating up, it was awesome.

Well, as we were headed around the last fast bend of the river, the 3-boy boat overturned.    We were in front of them – they got swept around just the wrong little bit, slammed the nose of the canoe into the bank, jolted the boys and crash-splash-under.    So of course, like IDIOTS,   Richard and I try and grab onto the bank to stop ourselves – to make sure they are o.k!    Which – yes – is a good idea, you would think.  Except that we were just as vulnerable to that sweeping, swirling, rushing torrent of water as THEY were, and trying to stop a canoe halfway around a sharp bend – is stupid.    This I know now.      We almost had ourselves stopped and one thing went wrong and that’s all it takes – the water rushed into our canoe so fast I can’t even remember it.

And this water

Is the coldest water you ever want to be in.   Ever.    It is hypothermia cold.   It’s knock all your wind out of you cold.  It’s atrophy your muscles in a matter of minutes cold.    This is a serious river.  

So I come up, gasping, and grab onto the willows and scrub on the steep bank, too steep to climb up,  stop my lighting-fast progress downstream.    Becka and Erica had managed to stop their canoe, and by dint of sheer bullish will the three of us dragged me half up the bank, half up the side of the canoe, up and over and into their boat.     But Richard is still in the river, and he’s clinging to the canoe, trying to stop IT from heading downstream.   And our canoe – now riding rather low in the water with three of us – is being swept sidewise straight at a log sticking out into the river.    They tried to stall the canoe on this log, but – bad idea – we bump up against it and immediately the force of the water tries to push us under the log and tips us, under and over, and the water rushes in and before I know it the canoe is flipping on top of me, and under the log.

I could feel it falling.  I could see it heading straight down onto my head, upside-down, scary-scary-scary-land.     But I’m good in the water.   I know how to maneuver  underwater without panicking.   So with a huge thrust I kicked myself out  from under the boat and the log,  surfacing again downstream, and collided solidly with another log sticking out into the river.      I wrapped my arms around it and – well – the idea was to haul myself up the log onto the bank.    But…  this river.    It was just so fast, and so cold.    So there I am, clinging to the log with my arms, my entire body being swept under it, downstream, pulling me harder than I can resist.  The water thundering against my back.  And I can feel the strength leaving my arms.   I can feel my lips slipping underneath the frigid, churning water.     Erica meanwhile was clinging to the same log, just out of reach.  I can remember her looking at me, her eyes wide, as  I gasped at her that I was going to let go, go under,  and then I did.    Took as big a gulp of air as I could and shoved myself down, let the current do the rest.

I surfaced just seconds later,  and right there was a patch of slow water, a shallow spot, and I kicked like the dickens for it.    Got there.  Broke free of the current and hauled myself onto the mud and logs.    My entire body was lobster red, and shaking.

We didn’t lose a single canoe.   Richard performed Festivus-quality Feats of Strength saving the canoe, the dry-bag, my wallet, our clothes.      We had everything strapped to the boats.     We lost three paddles, my running shoes (loose in the bottom of the boat)  and Brian’s favorite sweater.    And half a bag of Lay’s Salt and Pepper chips.

So really, nothing.    We overturned three canoes in three minutes.   And all we really lost were three paddles.      We all got back into our boats (with just enough extra paddles on board to get us all home)   and spent the rest of the short, now-easy journey down the river shivering, warming slowly, far less interested in any of it.    Nearly all of us had to work almost immediately after landing in town.    I had just enough time for a steaming hot, life-alteringly good shower.    I got to work and Jaq caught me staring at myself in the mirror just, y’know, making sure I was still alive.    My pupils were oddly dilated.

And now – my legs.

Are so battered, so bruised, I can hardly believe it.    The last time I was this bruised, I had fallen off a three-story balcony onto auditorium chairs.      And I really couldn’t tell you where and when it happened – which part of the scramble, which part of the swirl.     There is a foot-long purple and black exclamation point running from my left thigh to past my knee.    There is a deep violet thumb-print looking bruise on my right inner thigh.   My arms are bruised, my knees are bruised, and I have a very deep indigo rectangle just above my pubic bone.    they are astonishingly violent looking bruises.

But, y’know, the whole time we were really o.k.   There was not one of these moments that was truly a “This is It”  moment.     Uh-Oh moments, maybe.   But what it is, is the knowledge that this is such a serious river.  It is knowing that things can go terribly wrong.     And knowing that, in the Uh-Oh moment, where you are not truly in immediate peril, you are flooded with the Knowing that Peril is, truly, closer than you want it to be.   It is not knocking down your door, but it’s a close fucking neighbor.

I was shaken.   Not horribly.    I’d get in those canoes again.   I’d just… do it different.    I learned good lessons.   We all did.    And I have Adventure Trophy Bruises.    And a good story.   And  all of us are probably a little more bonded than we would have been had we gotten to town without event.

so that was… Tuesday?    Tuesday.    Wednesday I recovered, and went to Shipwrecks with Skye who is visiting from out of town.

Thing about this place, you stay here long enough and you always want to come back.

And then last night I went to the Pit with Dieter (ostensibly, though, knowing that he was going to peace out early most likely)   to see Amy’s band play.  I don’t know what they are called!   But Amy is our Diamond Tooth Gertie, and she has a set of pipes like you ain’t often heard.   Damn she is so amazing!   And so this is a fabulous thing, because this way you get to hear her singing the things she WANTS to sing!        She started out with some killer 90′s girl singer power ballads – Amanda Marshall!   Alanis Morisette!  Alicia Keys!     So rad!   It’s like being fifteen all over again!!   And then as the night progressed they moved into belted-out, unbelievable, dancy-as-all-hell covers of the Doobie Brothers and Loverboy and Tina Turner and Janis Joplin  - though 30 Rock has forever ruined “Piece of My Heart” .

I could not listen to the song without hearing the Jackie Jormp-Jomp version “Chunk of My Lung”

Lucky for me, I was stationed next to a rad guy who knew the episode, and sang along with me;   You know you’ve bought it, when life makes you sweet food… 

So I danced my ass off for hours.  It was amazing.   Rad Maria Sol was there and danced her ass off along with me.   Staff showed up.    The rad guy danced.   Everybody danced and danced and danced.

And afterwards, there was a bonfire by the river…   a crowded, sparkly, day-lit 2 a.m. bonfire full of hippies and music.   A guy with a push-broom mustache, a guitar, and a harmonica sang into the wee hours of the morning.   He looked like he had fallen straight out of 1967.     Red-gold sparks flew off the fire and into the bright sky.

Later on, there was a fully radical interlude in the wicked playground, in this two-story tower with a slide coming down from it.    I lost myself in kisses so fabulous I think I ceased to hear the rain, forgot there was a world.    All I remember having were lips, and a tongue.  The rest of my body vanished into the kisses.    It went on so long the following day arrived, breathless and grinning ear-to-ear at us.

I did not, I think, get to sleep until after eight in the morning.    Though I couldn’t promise anything about time after the campfire, and the river.

after all that smoke and all that rock ‘n roll