But on to the real adventures, since there have been several! My first was discovering immediately after unpacking my life into my new apartment that my car had a broken axle, but AAA and a guy named Earl got me through that one pretty quick, and for much less moolah than I'd anticipated. As Erin said, we've been doing a lot of biking, which is still new to me but my wrists are no longer sore from braking compulsively after every ride anymore (just the long ones...). Although the folks at RMBL initially struck me as rather chubber-esque (sorry Erin!), I realized the error of my judgement (or maybe found the exceptions?) and warmed up to them pretty fast. Since the majority of the 7 other people in my office are approaching or past 30, in serious relationships or married with small children, the RMBLites are still kinda the only friends I've made, and have a refreshing intellectual side that isn't as common in town, where the predominant inclinations are to have a lot of fun, never grow up (this includes a lot of flair, which I do appreciate), and drink impressive quantities of beer.
The 4th also featured the wonderful CB parade, in which all of the RMBLites wear veratrim (not skunk cabbage, but I don't know the difference) leaves and proceed to be first to get sprayed by the CB fire department in the town-wide water fight. Deciding that I'd rather be a fake biologist than a lonely wallflower, I donned some leaves myself and joined the masses of chanting scientists. Luckily, beer was provided:
This week featured three great rides with Erin, one of which the famous 401 again, and today we finally summited our first CO peak. At a modest 12805' it wasn't quite the 14er we'd hoped for last weekend, but we were pleased nonetheless and had a fun (and buggy...) little adventure coming down a slightly more creative route..who said there were actual trails out here anyway? We got great views all around, including our first glimpse of Snowmass (the big one behind me in this picture!).
My other adventure this week was on Tuesday when I hit the road and drove over Cottonwood Pass--also the continental divide-- to meet Ellen at the Arkansas river in Buena Vista (usually pronounced boona vesta, or some such silly variation) to do some paddling. Levels are getting pretty low at least by CO standards--as in, the Numbers were at around 700 cfs as opposed to over 2000--so after taking a look at the rapids on the way up, we decided to go for it and do the famous class IV run. We put on in high spirits, enjoying the clear water and sunshine. The first drop, supposedly the most technical, was kinda creeky and definitely required some attention. The first incident hit about halfway through when Ellen got caught by one of the squirrely holes and proceeded to attempt to roll up on top of a rock. Blame the loose outfitting, not boating in 3 weeks, or both--we had our first swim, but Ellen executed it with impressive grace, never more than 5 feet from her boat and making it very easy for me to help her self-rescue. After some roll practice we proceeded on to a series of awesome rapids, which seemed to be the perfect balance of difficulty and fun--we both agreed that this level was just fine for us. Near the middle of the run, I started having a little too much fun punching holes and found a real winner that gave me a thorough thrashing. Despite my best efforts to hang loose and flush out, every time I rolled up I found myself surfing straight back into the sucker via the oh-so-convenient eddy I flushed into. I pulled my skirt, floundered around, and managed to reclaim my paddle and start walking downstream. I'm still amazed at Ellen's boat wrangling skills--as I walked my sorry, hyperventilating self down the river she successfully got my boat into an eddy and was waiting peacefully for me when I caught up. I noticed on my (perfect SRT technique) whitewater swim across the river that the hole had gotten the better of my right shoulder, but it was at a very tolerable level of pain so after a little breather to calm down we pressed on again.
At this point I was quite leery of even the tiniest holes, following Ellen rather tentatively. As we approached a horizon line with some ominous spray coming up from the unseen rapid below, I think we both realized that we probably should have at least eddied out to try and boat scout, but as the thought crossed my mind I saw Ellen going for it, skirting a big hole before entering a melee of foam. As I dropped in I saw her get flipped and soon after got a little roll practice of my own. Coming up (bow pointing upstream, oy vey) I saw that the loose hips of the all-star had failed Ellen again and seeing that she was well on her way to a nice looking rock, I mustered what gumption I had to get after the little red boat. Unfortunately, my boat chasing experience up until then was pretty much limited to Fartlands, and the gnarkansas is, well, not fartlands in terms of difficulty or familiarity. With the friendly, armada-bolstered cushion of Ledyard now decidedly yanked out from under my ass, I kept up the chase for a while. My thoughts alternated between fiery determination--OOH THERE IT IS C'MON GIT IN THE EDDY--and verging on freaking out--SH@$MONKEYS HANG ON, FRICKINF@#K EDDY OUT, SCOUT THAT RAPID! I came close to getting it a couple times, but always relented when I realized I had to turn my attention to the upcoming whitewater. I passed a spot that looked suspiciously like our takeout (it later proved not to be), worried about going too much further. Still a little shaken up by my swim and my own brush with the series of holes that had gotten Ellen, I soon got to the point where I was uncomfortably far from my partner, alone and quickly approaching "really freaked out" on an unfamiliar and rather demanding river. With a sinking feeling of failure I eddied out and pulled my boat up on shore, thinking that the car was just up the road and that we'd hop in and catch up to Ellen's boat, which really wasn't moving very quickly. Sadly this was not the case, and we ended up walking for a good 20 minutes, Ellen barefoot and I carrying my boat (and down to one contact after the right one ripped in half...whoops!). Unfortunately the only people who drove by were some old people from Arizona and a van for a spa company. By the time we reached Ellen's car, further pursuit was out of the question. We kept our eyes peeled on our way back to the put in for my car, and back in BV talked to some folks in the play park, none of whom had seen it come through.
As we reviewed the day, we realized a few things--first and foremost, while Ledyard has unquestionably provided us with a great learning environment to boat in, it has also sheltered us from what boating in the real world is like. That is, we didn't have the numbers or experience of a full Ledyard trip, both of which we're accustomed to relying on and which would have been quite helpful. We also learned that even when you're having fun and slaying rapids, it's ALWAYS a good idea--rather, a necessary one--to slow down, eddy out, and assess what lies ahead, especially when you don't know what it is! Despite the saga that our day evolved into, we both felt like the level of difficulty was one that we were comfortable running, but agreed that we got into trouble when we started to get overconfident and disregard the challenge that it was. Given that, we humbly took the river gods' slap on the wrist--thankful it was just that and not more of a punch in the face--and did our best to make it up to them, ostensibly through the consumption of multiple booty beers but also by absorbing the lessons learned.
After reporting the missing boat, we sought out the local liquor store. I managed to find a single can of bud light and Ellen, trooper that she is, went all out and got a true 24-oz man can of PBR, which she proceeded to drink in just 3 bouts of booty-draining gusto (1.5 of which I accompanied her for). We stocked up on gas and snakes before parting ways and heading for home.
Lo and behold, the next morning Ellen heard from the Arkansas river rangers, who had found the stray boat which is now awaiting her return in BV. Moral of the story: be safe, be careful, and drink your booty beers!
Hope everyone's still having good summers, and for goodness' sake come to CB, it's obviously where all the fun is at, AND I have a couch for you to sleep on!
-Laura
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