A Pirate Looks At 30

Well, welcome back...I guess. That last post did not go in my favor. My faithful readers turned on me and voted with Mrs. Yak. She won. No Jeep. I'm really going to have to break down and buy a car, though. Do you realize how long it has been since I have been kayaking? September. TWO months! $300 for a roof rack for our car, and I've used it once!

I Need Your Help! did prove a few things, though. Number 1: My Grandmother will ALWAYS vote in my favor. If I were to title a post, "Should I kill Everybody Who Voted Against Me?" I would be able to count on her to vote, "Yes, do you need to borrow a rifle?"

Number 2: Uncle Pink and my brother have come to the conclusion that I am a "Tree huggin' Hippie." I believe that was their words. Sheesh. I'm no Tree Hugger! Granola, maybe. To prove I'm not a "Tree Huggin' Hippie," my wife shaves her legs. So, there!

To rub salt in an open wound, my uncle told me about his Jeep Cherokee after voting against me getting a Wrangler. Yeah, well...Your name is Uncle PINK!! (In my Uncles defense, this is a really cool nickname because he happens to share a surname with Pink Floyd. To show his excellent taste in music, he and I share a fascination of Pink Floyd.) And, yes, I know Pink Floyd is the name of a band, not a person.

Have you noticed my profile mentions something about talking my wife into getting a bigger boat? Since everybody but me seems to think it's a bad idea to get a Jeep, I have begun negotiations with her about getting a boat. Surprisingly enough, a nice boat can be had for $5000-my intended down payment for a Jeep. Click on "Buy Me A Boat" in the links and do your own search for sailboats with a max price of $5000. Most of the boats will come up in the range of 25 to 30 feet long. That's a nice chunk of real estate for getting me to my dream destination-the Caribbean!

The negotiations began tonight. It went like this:
Me: Instead of getting a Jeep, can we get a boat?
Wife: Blank stare.
Me: I was planning on putting $5000 down on a Jeep. I was figuring I could use that money to buy a boat.
Wife: Where are we going to keep it?
Me: In the water at a marina.
Wife: How much will that cost?
Me: I looked into it last summer, but I don't really remember.
Wife: Well, we need to see how much insurance and slip fees will be.
End of negotiation.

That is what I have been researching tonight. Insurance will remain unknown until I pick out a boat. Evidently, insurance companies won't give a quote unless you have the specifics on a boat. So I moved on to slip fees. I found a really fancy marina in the Chesapeake Bay and decided to check it out. For $230 a month, you get a slip with electricity, water, and cable T.V. Electricity is metered at the dock and paid by the boat owner monthly. The same for water and T.V., but I wouldn't need either of those. The catch, 230 times 12 equals $2760. That has to be paid upfront.

Those prices are for a 30' boat. Marinas charge by the foot. There are some smaller marinas on the Chesapeake that don't charge nearly as much. I'm pretty sure I can find a marina that will charge less than $5 a foot per month. All I need is something to tie to and electricity to keep the batteries charged. I don't care if they have a pool.

I came across a few interesting things tonight while searching for boats and marinas. When I saw this one, I laughed so hard I thought I might wake up the day-walkers upstairs. The tag for that website is "Really Cool Amphibious Vehicles." Really cool is NOT what I was thinking while laughing at them.

On the other hand, this is really cool. A luxury submarine! To hell with sailboats, I'm getting one of these! It's 213' long with four decks. Notice, though, there aren't any photos of their submarines. That's a dead ringer they have never built one. I don't know if I trust a company that can't afford to build a prototype, or even a model, of their product that purportedly dives to 1000' for days at a time. I'll wait until Richard Branson gets one. Maybe his will go on the market at a reasonable price a few years later.

I also found a cruising boat that resembled the Enterprise. The bow was a huge bubble mostly encapsulated with a large, darkly tinted window. Nestled inside the bubble was an extremely Trekie bridge. I didn't bother bookmarking that one, it was so ridiculous. At least they had working models to take pictures of in action.

I'm having another birthday this week. This will be the 28th since that ominous Thanksgiving day in 1978. Thursday will mark my 4th Thanksgiving birthday, counting the actual day of birth. As I was typing that, I think I figured out why my grandfather sometimes calls me "turkey."

If this quarter century goes as quickly as the previous, I'll be done with this world in what seems like a couple of weeks. I've enjoyed my twenties and I'm not looking forward to my thirties. But then again, I enjoyed my teens. My twenties blew that teenie bopper crap right out of the water! I don't know if I'll be able to hold on tight enough if my thirties blast my twenties.

In my teens, I went to a fairly cool high school. I was fortunate enough to get out of school every now and then to travel all over the place. In what turned out to be a one sided deal, I fell in love for the first time. I took my first flying lessons, then blew all my flying lesson money on my first love. As hard as I tried not to, I graduated high school, got dumped by my first love, got drunk for the first time, ran out of money for flying lessons, then started college without any direction on what I wanted to do with my life. So I followed the direction of my elders, turned twenty, and decided to do something other than go to college. I could always go back later, right?

I farted around for a year, turned twenty one, got drunk for the second time, then joined the Coast Guard. Graduated bootcamp on Thanksgiving day, my birthday. 21 to 25 was lived year to year with my eye on that "End of Enlistment" date. I got to do some really cool stuff, but I made it fly by looking too far ahead. I do know what it's like to live in Alaska. Few people know the joys of driving an old Jeep across the country for a girl. None of my friends know what salt water being sprayed from an HH-60 feels like on your face, or how to perform a J-turn at 45 knots without being thrown off the boat. I have done CPR, both successfully and not, pulled people from a boat while it was sinking, and felt the pleasant sting of O.C. Pepper spray in my eyes. I played toss with a seal 25 feet under water, saw starfish clinging to the edge of a wall, and know what it's like to lose a power tool to Davey Jones.

Before 25, I met the first girl I loved that loved me back and figured I'd better hold on to that and tight! So I got married. At that point I started living more in the moment and things began slowing down. Except the years still flew by in a flash.

I sit here a few days shy of 28. I have been married for four mostly happy years: I found out I'm hard to live with, I needed more diversity in my wardrobe, and the food I was eating wasn't good for me. Giving up Ramen Noodles was the hardest part of getting married. I haven't gone back to college, although a date is set, and I know what I want to do. I haven't finished flying lessons, but I could if I wanted to. What does thirty have in store for me? A bigger boat?



Fair winds and following seas...

I Need Your Help!

I'm trying to convince Mrs. Yak to let me replace JeepYak. This should work:


I don't know what her problem is with it. Ok, sure it averages 17.5 mpg, and as with JeepYak1, I am going to spend a ton of money on it to make it look more like this:

The above photo is supposed to be watermarked with the photographers website. For some reason, the mark went away. That picture was borrowed, with permission from www.project-jk.com. Visit his site to learn a ton of information about the new Jeep and see pictures of it.

I'm not worried about MPG, though. JeepYak1 was a 2003 with 28k miles when I sold it. My commute to work is only 3 miles, and I still have the 75+ MPG Vespa. Honestly, the Jeep would rarely be driven. You may be asking yourself, "Why does he need this Jeep, then?"

There is a perfectly simple and logical answer to that question. I need a stylish way to get to and fro the river with my kayak. This Jeep is the only way I have found to be able to do that. My kayak would not be happy on top of any other vehicle.

Of course, there are many other reasons why I need a 4 door Jeep with 4" of lift and 35" tires. There are after market manufacturers that offer a roof rack for the hardtop. I could easily carry several kayaks on top and the associated number of paddlers inside along with all the required gear in the back. When trippin' alone, I can carry my kayak and bike on the roof, camping and other gear in the back, and still have room to pick up a hitch hiker or two.

The rear seat doesn't come out, as it did in JeepYak1. Instead, it folds down flat, much like most cars. With the addition of an air mattress, I can sleep back there. This would greatly decrease my expenditures on hotel bills while traveling to those epic paddling sites. Cost saving benefits!

The new Jeep also has available power windows and door locks. For $800. I thought I had my mind made up not to get the power options because I could not find window controls for the back seat drivers. And it costs $800. I was worried that if anybody were to fart back there, they would not be able to discreetly roll down the window to ventilate. Instead, they would have to embarrass themselves by asking a front seat occupant to crack the window. But, it has been brought to my attention that back seat passengers do indeed have control of the windows. The switch is located on the back of the console.

The driver has the ability to lock the windows. That is very useful in the art of "Dutch Ovens," where the driver farts and locks the windows so nobody can get fresh air. That feature alone makes it worth 800 bucks.

"But why do you need my help?" you may be asking. I need your help to convince Mrs. Yak that this Jeep is a good idea and a smart purchase. The benefit of being able to sleep in it will save about $65 a year on hotel bills alone! She doesn't seem to understand that the one or two times a year I stay in hotels costs a lot of money.

Also, it will make me more attractive to the ladies--- by this, I mean her since she is a lady. This thing could save our marriage if she ever decides I'm not attractive enough for her anymore!

She has deduced that the monthly payments, not counting insurance, will be more than we pay for housing. I need you to convince her that it's not that big of a deal. So what if we have a vehicle that's worth more than our house? Revert back to the hotel savings.

Sully, our dog, misses JeepYak. I think he would like having his own door, that's why I want the 4 door instead of the 2. How can she deny this for the dog?

As badly as I want one of these new Jeeps, my driveway is going to have to wait a while before being graced by its presence. We are still paying for the Vespa and Sully's surgery. Hopefully, by the time we have those paid off Mrs. Yak will be convinced that a new Jeep is in order. I don't think I can do this without your help, though.

Consider this post a petition. If you think it's a good idea, reply to the post with a YAY and send money. If you think Mrs. Yak is correct and we don't need anymore Jeepyaks, reply with a NAY and send money. If for some reason you can't send money, it's OK, your vote is still important. It would help me to get a Jeep if you would buy a t-shirt, though!------->

Click here to leave a reply.

Fair Winds and Following Seas...

An Email From Stopglobalwarming.org

HISTORIC MILESTONE FOR STOP GLOBAL WARMING VIRTUAL MARCH

This week the Virtual March grew to over 500,000 marchers! The movement to stop global warming is here, now and growing louder each day. The diversity of our new partners goes to show that we are all part of this problem, and we all need to be part of the solution. New partners include Pastor Tri Robinson, pop culture designer Paul Frank, Olympic snowboarder Shaun White, The Los Angeles Zoo, Me&Ro Jewelry, and rock band Guster.

Thanks to the Lollapalooza and Bonnaroo music festivals, and to marcher Bon Jovi, for encouraging music fans this summer to join the Virtual March.

GLOBAL WARMING THREATENS RICH FALL COLORS

While the Virtual March continues to grow during the fall, the icon of the season – changing leaves – is being threatened by global warming. Click here to read more about global warming's threat to New England's rich autumn colors.

Another surprising impact from global warming is the recent declining pumpkin crop. The severe rains of the spring and extreme heat of the summer has directly reduced the number of pumpkins grown in the United States. One farmer reports that his normal crop of 70 tons of pumpkins shrunk to only 12 tons this season. Now we are talking about our Halloween jack-o-lanterns and Thanksgiving dessert.

FALL ACTION TIPS

By marching, you have taken the first step to be part of the movement to stop global warming, but perhaps you are asking, "What else can I do?" Here are a few action tips for the fall:

* Get five more people to join you on the Virtual March.

* Check out "Ten Tips for an Earth Friendly Halloween"

* Buy "Stop Global Warming: The Solution is You!" which has lots of ideas for becoming part of the solution. Stop Global Warming Marchers get 25% off. Click here to buy (enter code SGW06 at purchase for discount).

* Watch Virtual March partner The Weather Channel's new weekly show about global warming, The Climate Code with Dr. Heidi Cullen.

* Pick one StopGlobalWarming.org Take Action tip and start doing it in your everyday life.

It's not about doing everything; it’s about doing something – even just one thing. The solution is you!

Keep Marching!

Laurie David

Founder
StopGlobalWarming.org


To sign up for the Stop Global Warming Virtual March, please visit http://www.stopglobalwarming.org/

If you do not want futher messages from Stop Global Warming, simply go here and we will remove you from our list.
Buzztone, 15260 Ventura Blvd. Suite 2100 Sherman Oaks, CA 91403

Some of the things we have done around the RiverYak compound, all thanks to the Brother in Law that lives here:

We have replaced most of the light bulbs in our house with efficient fluorescent bulbs. A 60 watt bulb actually uses 15 watts, producing 800 lumens of light, and averages 6000 hours of use!

During the winter we winterize our windows with a thin, clear plastic film that sticks to the sills with two sided tape. Heat is applied to stretch the film tight over the window. When installed correctly, the film cannot be seen. Once or twice, a hand has been stuck through the film in our house because it is so hard to see! This prevents drafts, making the house stay warm without running the heater 24/7.

In the summer, we utilize fans and open windows as long as possible. In this area, that is possible, but probably not for Texas. To minimize air conditioner and heat use, seal off rooms that are not used, insulate the duct work in your house, and dress for the conditions. Although we have already had several frosts and freezes this fall, we still have not turned on the heater. Instead, we have added more blankets to the bed, sleep in pajamas, and wear comfortable fleece sweaters when we feel chilly.

To minimize our water usage, the bro in law purchased a rain barrel that connects to a gutter. The water trapped by the barrel has been used to water our garden for most of the year. This has greatly reduced our water bill.

With these efficiency standards in place at our house, our electric bill averages about $50 a month. The utility bill (water, sewage, gas) however, runs closer to $100 a month. This is because our house is not insulated very well, we don't have a dishwasher, so we end up using more water to wash dishes, I take long showers (I know I'm a terrible person), and a few other problems with the structure that are out of our control because we rent. Still, we are far below the average household energy usage of a two person dwelling, even though there are four people living here. This just goes to show that small changes can make a huge difference in your utility bill, as well as living a low impact lifestyle that is good for the environment.

Another area we save a little money on is garbage. Charlottesville charges by the bag or can, depending on how you want to pay for it. We recycle all our paper, cans, plastic, and cardboard. Our food is composted in the backyard, and will be used in the garden next year. This leaves a few non-recyclable items to go in the garbage. We have gone as much as one month without putting out the trash, but we usually do it every other week. Remember, we are doing this with four adults. It isn't very hard.

Engergystar.gov says if every American household would change just one light bulb to an Energy Efficient Compact Fluorescent bulb (the type we use), the country would save 5.6 billion killowatt-hours of electricity per year, or $526 million dollars a year in electric expenses.

When those old bulbs burn out, try to replace them with the Energy Efficient fluorescent bulbs and watch your electric bill. I promise it will decrease, plus you're using less energy. Using less electricity is a good thing for the consumer, the environment, and our health!

Fair winds and following seas...

What's Going On?

I guess I should consider myself lucky to have the one affiliate that I have. In the past couple of weeks, I have been turned down by two other companies. Do I suck that bad? My failures have made me fall even more in love with Backcountry.com for being so generous. Now if I can just win the Goat Sighting contest! Click on the banner to see what that means (I don't get paid for clicks, so click away). Scroll down and click on the Backcountry.com Blog link. There you will find all the info about Goat Sightings and why I stuck one of their stickers on my kayak for C.R.A.K.

The last few weeks have proven to me that in order to be a successful kayaking blogger, one needs a car in order to get a kayak to the river. Granted, I no longer have a car payment (since selling JeepYak), but I also no longer have a way to get my boat to the water. Yes, I do have the Honda. But, that is actually my wife's car, and she won't skip school or work to let me use it. I could kayak in the back yard and blog about that, but I don't think you would enjoy reading about a guy dodging dog turds in his backyard. Even if it does involve a kayak. There must be a cabby out there somewhere with a roofrack on his taxi.<--- Ooooo, I might be onto something with that one!

Here is a compilation of what I believe is needed in order for me to become a better blogging kayaker, and what those items cost:

1. A new computer. The current model is old and beginning to show signs of wear and tear. Plus, my wife has outgrown this one with her school work. $2000
   
2. A car. I like the Scion xA<---not a typo. It is inexpensive (as far as cars go), gets excellent fuel mileage, and I can see over the roof, which makes me feel taller and loading kayaks will be much easier. $15,000 plus insurance, tax, title, license and inspection. Yuck.
   
3. A 10 mega pixel digital camera with interchangeable lenses and speed shooting capabilities. $1000
   
4. An expensive video camera that will make me look like I know what I'm doing while carrying it around. $2000
5. A sponsor: Priceless.

That's $20,000 so far! Looks like you people better buy a bunch of t-shirts, otherwise this blog is going to hell. And the Devil isn't happy about me coming, either.

I have a trip in mind that I would like to take, but it will be next Spring or Summer before that unfolds. In the meantime, I need another trip. Something within 200 miles of Charlottesville that I can complete in a few days. I have considered the Great Dismal Swamp, mainly because it has a cool name, but camping is only allowed in one area. That greatly inhibits any RiverYak style exploring. The New River would probably be cool, but I don't know anything about it.

So, I have a proposition for anybody reading this. Whether you are the one devoted reader I have, or you just stumbled across here on accident, suggest a trip that I should take. If I accept your trip, I will give you a RiverYak T-shirt. Stop laughing, it's all I have! I'm a desperate kayaker who needs to get back on the water. To encourage replies to this post, I will give you a sticker just for making a suggestion. You simply can not beat a deal like this!

Rack your brains and come up with your best. Just remember, it needs to be no more than 200 miles from Charlottesville and should take at least two days, if not more, to complete.



Fair winds and following seas...

A Day in the Life

I still have not been kayaking since C.R.A.K., almost one whole month. I could go right now, but the wind is beginning to pick up as a cold front moves in. The cold isn't a problem, because I am lucky enough to have a dry suit, but the wind is hell. There aren't many activities I participate in while the wind blows like this. The only exception is sailing, and I no longer have a sail boat. Even if I did, there isn't anywhere in this area I could sail. Go to the link marked, "Buy me a boat" if you care to remedy this.

I could also work a few hours at my part time job, but I haven't had much time off since I started that job. Therefore, I feel it is in my best interest to sit here and do as little as possible. My wife has two baskets of laundry in our bedroom that I could fold. If that isn't done before she gets home, she will understandably be a little upset. I did take the dog for a walk. And, it's not like I haven't been doing anything at all today. I had training from 8am until 4 this afternoon at my regular job. Attending training and walking the dog is getting something done. All in all, this has been a productive day!

Some co-workers are going out to eat in a little while. Even though I wasn't invited, I could drop in on them. If I hung around long enough, I could probably even convince them to pay for my dinner. But, that would be a little rude, and although I don't wear them on my sleeve, I do have morals. I also have to work with these people. Could I face them if I pulled something like that? Probably. This plan is already foiled, though, because at least one of them reads my blog on a regular basis.

My kayak could use a bath, but then again, so could I. Today is also the day my cat gets his fluids. The subcutaneous fluids leave a large lump on his side. Since he is a Heffepoot, the lump has been coined a Heffelump. I usually do the fluids with my assistant, my wife, but this is something else I could be doing right now, even though she is still in class.

It has been brought to my attention that some of my posts have typos in them. I could be correcting those, but then the blog would be perfect(yeah, right), and that would take away from its character. Kinda like an old car with a story for every scratch and dent. In actuality, I just don't feel like reading all of them to find the mistakes.

Several people have told me that I never finish anything I start. I don't consider myself a procrastinator, even though my wife does. But, she is one of the few people that sees the real reasons why I never finished flying lessons, or never took the test to become a certified firefighter after completing all the required training, and the reason I had to take EMT class twice before taking the state exam(which I scored the second highest score of the night when I finally took it). I don't think procrastination or never completing anything I begin has anything to do with why I am not doing anything at the present moment.

Proper motivation, rather than laziness, is to blame. My wife is not here cracking the needed whip to get me in motion to clean up the kayak, fold the laundry, give the cat his fluids, or work on the blog. The facility nurse took us on a tour of her office area today during our training. Her office is tucked away where nobody can see what is going on in there, nor would they ever think about it because it is so far out of the way. I actually thought about how easy it would be to surf the Internet, talk on the phone, or doodle while in that small, tidy, and neatly organized office. What is becoming of me and my work ethic that I even think of this kind of stuff? Special note to anybody at work who may be reading: The thoughts and observations included in this blog do not directly reflect the thoughts and observations of the real person behind the blog.

My brother in law just walked in, which made me think about the sink full of dishes upstairs. I hear water running now. That makes me feel bad. Motivation initiated.



Fair winds and following seas from a very bored kayaker...

Capitalism At Its Finest: We All Knew I Would Sell Out!

Welcome back to RiverYak, where I'll always know I'll be free, but the merchandise isn't(unless you're really cool, then you might get a sticker). Notice the new sidebar, complete with a link to the grand opening of the RiverYak Store. Click on the button for RiverYak T-shirts, stickers, and much more!

Why do retailers always use the term "much more?" The only thing I didn't list is an overpriced coffee mug and a refrigerator magnet. But it sounds good to stop short and finish the line with "Much More!"

You may have also noticed the huge banner under the RiverYak store button. Backcountry.com is a company that I have personally purchased gear through and didn't mind posting their banner when they made an offer. I chose the kayaking banner, because, well...this is a kayaking blog. But, they have gear and clothes for every outdoor enthusiast, from snow sports to water sports. While you are checking out their great site, buy me a tent.

Reilly Web and Graphic Design is owned by the great and powerful Meg, who designed the new RiverYak logo that you will see throughout the blog for now on. The logo is also plastered all over the merchandise in the RiverYak store. I couldn't resist seeing it on a t-shirt. If you need anything designed or hosted, Meg can hook you up.

Good news seems to come in spurts around the RiverYak compound. My wife found my camera the other day. With that good news comes some bad news, though. She told me she had a surprise at home when I met her after work a few days ago. "Oh boy!" I replied, and probably jumped in the air. When we arrived at the house, she stood in our bedroom with both hands behind her back and said, "Guess which hand."

"That one," I said pointing. Then I stood and watched her switch the object to the other hand and display an empty palm to me. Eventually she pulled the camera from behind her back while saying, "Good news! You don't have to buy a new camera anymore, because I found yours!"

Good news? I was certain that camera was gone and I was getting this for my birthday. Oh well. I am glad she found it though, at least I will be able to take pictures again, until I get a new camera. I am making enough money with my part time job to buy that camera in a couple of months. Shhhh...she mustn't find out!

I haven't had the boat in the water since C.R.A.K. The weather has turned really crappy and I've been working quite a bit. I'll try to keep posting on here, even if it's not about kayaking. The next trip is looking rather promising, but I would like to line up at least one sponsor before talking too much about it. In the meantime, buy some RiverYak stuff and visit the companies in the side bar. Stay tuned...



Fair winds and following seas...

Day 4: Four Days, Two Rivers, Almost 100 Miles

We planned on getting up early and leaving as soon as the sun came up on the morning of day 4. Knowing this was our last day of C.R.A.K. and we had a timeline in which to reach Richmond, we missed our chance to get up with the sun in order to huddle like babies in our sleeping bags because it was so damn cold. This was the only day cold weather hit us. Eventually, one at a time, we emerged from our warm cocoons of down feathers and got underway somewhere close to 8am. Fog lifted from the warm river like smoke from a wildfire. Until the fog began to burn off, B.I.L. and I had to keep near one another in order not to loose eyesight of each other. When visibility finally reached decent levels, we took advantage of the wispy fog to grab some really cool photos.

The fog was lifting from the river in spiraling twists of little tornadoes. Fog tornadoes are evidently vampiric in nature, as they do not turn up on film. Attempts to photograph them were futile, and unfortunately this is one natural phenomena you either have to read about or get lucky enough to see for yourself. The twisters rose high off the water until they could not be seen anymore because of the rising sun. They were only a couple of inches in diameter, and did not move from their focal point on the water, but were just as fascinating to watch as their larger, destructive siblings.

Here is a picture I took of B.I.L. taking a little rest early on day 4. The skyward twisting fog is slightly evident in this photo, appearing as jagged finger-like extensions jutting from the top of the smooth blanket on the waters surface. We didn't get very far this morning because of visibility, both from the fog and the glaring sun in our eyes.

About an hour into the day, we found the public area marked on the map. It was a boat ramp next to a highway. We stopped for a little rest and I took the opportunity to some more work on the charts and figure our exact mileage and time to Richmond. While we were there, some high school age kids parked their cars in the parking lot and ventured down a path that led to a hidden hang out under the bridge. One by one, carloads of kids parked in the lot and headed down the trail. B.I.L. and I paddled away and waved back to a couple of them waving at us. This sparked a reminiscing conversation between the two of us about our high school hang outs. In my town, one of our haunts was the river. As sneaky as these kids were, I knew exactly what they were up to. The river wasn't very deep in this area, so I assume they didn't have the luxury of a diving platform as we did in our river. A cop once informed us, "The bridge is not a diving board." To which we promptly corrected him with, "No, it's not springy enough for a diving board, but it's a great diving PLATFORM." That little comment put a stop to our river hang out for a few weeks. The threat of arrest really is scary to a bunch of kids. But only for a few weeks.
The clump of trees in the center of this photo is our island we camped at. To show how little progress we were making this day, notice the fog is almost gone. At this tip of the island lies a pretty good explanation for why there were no private property signs posted. We discovered a birding blind with a state owned sign attached identifying it as a blind. Bird hunting is a sport I have never figured out. How sporting is it to hide in a camouflaged blind a person can't even see with some realistic decoys floating in the water and a bird call? Then when the birds come, the hunters spring from the blind, or just stay concealed in it, and start shooting without really having to aim. At least with training deer to come to a feeder set with a timer, the hunter actually has to aim! Real men hike in bear country, without a gun.

B.I.L. is a sucker for tree houses. This one caught his fancy, with good reason, and he could not resist taking its picture. Not really a tree house, per say, but still cool, none the less. I hope some rich sucker didn't build this for his spoiled kids. I wanted one of these badly when I was a kid. Not fair. It's right on the river, too!

This was the first structure we saw as we began to get closer to Richmond. This area of the river is developed more than the rest of our trip. Sparsely located large houses began to spring up. We still found ourselves in large areas of no development, though. For a while, the tracks ran alongside the river. A train passed in the opposite direction of our travel and honked at us. It's one thing to get a truck to honk at you. A person who can get a train to honk at them is in a whole new class of cool. Inevitably, though, the large houses began to grow closer together as we reached the lake formed by Bosher Dam.

Again, the current slowed to almost nothing in the lake, making for hours of boring paddling. We also ran into more people in this area, but still not many. Another boat ramp made for a nice resting place and we had the thrill of watching a guy we named Bubba put his jet ski in the water. Bubba seemed like a nice enough person, even if he was a few inches from having his shorts cover his ass crack. B.I.L. and I noticed this at the same time and tried to conceal our laughter. Concealing laughter only makes it more obvious you are laughing at someone. There were only three people on the ramp, and two were laughing. You'd think he might pull up his shorts. Nope.

He had a cigarette in his mouth and carried a bottle labeled as tea, but it didn't look like any tea B.I.L. and I have ever drank. We compared our experiences with tea over this subject. After a few seconds of cranking on the starter Bubba's jet ski fired up with enough smoke to put out his cigarette and he noisily sped off, in the same direction we were about to go. "Keep close to the bank," I cautioned B.I.L. It didn't need to be said, we both knew, but something needed to interrupt the following silence. About half an hour later, we encountered Bubba speeding past us, back up river. He waved with the cigarette between his fingers as he hauled up the river.

Later on we passed a boat which two guys were fishing from. Neither of them waved when I did. This automatically made them assholes to both of us. One had a military style haircut, so we brainstormed with each other and decided he was in the marines. They were both drinking, which it is illegal for the operator of a boat to drink. We rounded a bend in the river and they were out of sight. A shallow shoal forced us closer to the center of the river as I heard the familiar sound of an outboard wound up to full throttle. "Look out B.I.L., the marine and that other guy are coming," I said. We paddled as close to the shallow water as we could. In a few minutes the boat rounded the bend and passed by us very quickly. I made the observation to B.I.L. that these guys either knew the river extremely well to be going that fast, or they were idiots. Judging from their lack of the ability to wave and bad haircuts, we deduced they were idiots. An hour or so later, we found the ramp they had pulled out from. A fresh beer can lay on the beach next to the ramp, so I paddled over and discarded the litter in a trash can at the top of the ramp.

Once we were fully in the lake, we saw another bald eagle and two people rowing. The rowers were actually stopped, watching a flock of Canadian Geese swirl in the air above the lake. We stopped, as well, to see if they were planning on landing or if they had just taken off. A peculiar white goose flew with the rest of the flock. This one had a very prominent orange beak and matching feet. I pointed in the air like a flailing idiot hollering at B.I.L. who was a few yards behind me, "A white one! Look at the white one! You see the white one?" Of course he did. The poor thing stuck out like a streaker in a soccer match. If bird hunters ever aim, that is the goose that will be chosen. He doesn't stand a chance of making it past Alabama.

It didn't take long to spot the area the rowers had come from. A public park with an emphasis on rowing was located on river right at the very tip of the lake. We parked our boats to get a closer look. The park was very nice, with the cleanest public restrooms I have ever seen. B.I.L. and I used them because they were so pretty. We both agreed the restroom would make an ideal indoor camping spot, if needed.

There was a lot of real estate on the lake. Most of the houses had docks with pretty nice power boats moored to them. Some even had concrete ramps built, giving the landowners ideal access to the water. A few of the people who lived in this area have attempted to build retaining walls at the water line. It was funny to see the river reclaiming her banks by chewing its way behind the walls. Retaining walls on a river are in no way a good thing. All of the retainers had promoted premature erosion of the banks downstream of them. As much as people think Mother Nature needs help from Man, she doesn't. Maybe people don't realize the river was there thousands of years before they decided to build their dream house on the banks. No matter what is done to tame the forces of nature, it all fails. Even dams crumble.

An exclusive marina was even included on the lake, called Virginia Power Boat Association. Even their website is members only. We searched in vain for a restaurant, but found nothing. They probably wouldn't have let us in, anyway. I mention the power boat club because I noticed a serious lack of sailboats. I didn't see any. Not even a Hobie or Sunfish, which are easily found on any lake. Maybe the current is normally too strong or the water is not deep enough for a sailboat, but everybody seemed to be enjoying their motor boats. Although, we didn't see any boats underway in this area.

The foundation of the lake and our first major obstacle of the trip, was Bosher Dam. Somebody was thinking of paddlers and built a very nice portage around the dam. Thanks! Bosher Dam is a low head dam, just like the Woolen Mills dam in Charlottesville. The dam is a very dangerous area to play. Our boats were a little lighter when we carried them through the portage than they were on day 1, but they were still not easily maneuvered once out of the water. B.I.L. called his wife from this area to make sure she was still going to be available to pick us up. The time was now a little after 1 o'clock. She would be available until 5. No problem, we were less than 10 miles from our take out.

We paddled to the next obstacle, a "Z" dam about one mile from Bosher Dam. Again, somebody was thinking of paddlers on this dam and built the longest portage I have ever seen. The trail was a dirt path just like any hiking trail. I dragged my boat the length of it, then went back to help B.I.L. with his larger, heavier kayak. We labored over his boat, taking turns carrying the heavy end, and stopped several times to allow the feeling to come back into our hands and arms.

A "Z" dam is pretty simple to describe. It is a dam that stretches from bank to bank in the shape of a "Z". I don't know why they are built this way, or what the original purpose of this dam was. I'm sure it started as somebody trying to help Mother Nature. It's another low head dam, but only rises a few feet from the top of the water on the downstream side. Water gushed over it on this day, but it's not really as dangerous as Bosher Dam or Woolen Mills dam. A person could just stand up and walk out of the "Z" dam.

When we finally reached the end of the portage with B.I.L.s kayak, we rested for a bit. I was getting nervous about the unknown rapids coming up and drinking a lot of water. After a few minutes, we jumped back in our boats and headed to the first area of white water called Pony Pasture. Pony Pasture was difficult because there were so many rocks. The passages between them were only wide enough for a kayak. We had to pull our paddles from the water in many areas and let the current pull us through. Close to the end of this set, we encountered Richmond Raft Company with six of their rafts. Not a good sign for me, who was hoping for the water to be low enough to not encounter any rapids.

Some of the areas were pushing my limits as a paddler. I don't have much white water experience, and didn't have a spray skirt on my kayak. We did our best to stop and scout the routes before running, but the water rarely slowed down and pushed us hard all the way through. In most places, we were running ill-advisably blind, that is, we didn't know what the hell we were doing. The photo to the left is the only shot we got of any of the rapids. The water was running too fast for either of us to stop and take any pictures. In the few areas we were able to stop, I was pumping water out of my boat. This link explains this portion of the river extremely well. We ran all of the areas pictured and written about on that site. The last 50 yards was constant class IIIs with a couple of class IVs. We could see our take out point, and I wasn't going to die that close to completion. Keep in mind as you read, I was hitting class IVs without a spray skirt, and neither of us capsized. We are truly amazing kayakers...hold on while I laugh.

Halfway through this section of the River, I revisited God. I prayed in a way I have not prayed in about ten years. I didn't bother with praying to God or Jesus. I wanted to make sure I had the right one, so I prayed to "Whoever is up there." We had a couple of really scary close calls, but in the end we made it. I don't think it matters which religion is right. Something is definitely up there, and It looked out for us that day.

When we reached the calmer waters of the lower James, B.I.L. and I looked at each other in great relief. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. We survived rapids that have killed much more experienced paddlers, I had no more unknown routes and distances to calculate, we didn't get in trouble for trespassing, I made it home the day of my anniversary, and we were on time for B.I.L.s wife to meet us at the dock. A thought popped into our heads a few months ago and with careful planning, and most of all, determination, we made it happen. In four days, two rivers, and almost 100 miles, we accomplished something we aren't sure has been done since the day of the batteau. Two kayakers with a dream tackled the Rivanna and James Rivers. We did it.


I'll end this post with more pictures from the trip that didn't have a place, elsewhere.



























































































































































































































I was going for the Pirate look and ended up with the Hillbilly look, instead.

Fair Winds and Following Seas...

Day 3: Commando Camping

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I hope you haven't given up on me; I worked everyday this week. I can always count on work to suck all the creativity from my soul. Also, I started on this post a few days ago and it got lost. For some reason, I absolutely cannot stand to do something twice. So, it has taken every drop of self discipline that I posses (about two drops) to sit in front of the computer and try to muster any details at all from my memory and write something that isn't an abomination. Good luck, kind reader:
Here we are at Cartersville, the deceivingly small town. My map had this block of houses labeled in bold letters, making me think it was an actual town. You know, with a store, where I could get a nice cup of coffee, a Dr. Pepper, and a new bag of M&Ms. Water crept into the bag from the day before. James River flavored M&Ms are not very good. Luckily though, there was a trash can at the ramp so we were able to get rid of some weight. But, there was no restroom. That would have to wait.

What can I say about Cartersville, other than "disappointing"? Quaint. Quiet. I can't help but to wonder where in the hell these people work. The houses in Cartersville were quite old, but maintained in very good condition. It's one of those places visitors say, "Man, I'd love to live here," and the locals say, "I'm sick of this one horse shithole."

To be fair, Cartersville was very quiet and charming. The houses were all quite old and probably nested well-off people that enjoy quiet, country living and taking care of the old structures. Just don't plan on using it as a restocking point if you are on the river. We obviously didn't see this place during our brief visit. For that matter, we only saw two people: A retired man splashing his fishing boat who didn't know where Cartersville was, and a woman who tried to run over us with her car.

The man with the boat immediately reminded me of my grandfather. Before hitting the beach, I noticed his well kept beard and white hair. He didn't let the image of my grandfather down as we reached the beach and he started into a conversation as if he had known us for years. Apparently, he loved to fish. When he found out we had come from Charlottesville, he went into a story about his trip down the James some years back. He didn't go as many miles as we did, but it still took four days for his journey to conclude. His boat drifted most of the way as he fished the banks of the James River. At night, he camped on islands, eating the fish he caught during the day.

As he told his story, his eyes wondered far off, not really looking at anything. It was apparent he was reminiscing, and he loved to fish. He made a couple of funnies, giving us a pretty good laugh. During the few moments we were in his company, I was a little kid again, hanging out with my grandfather-the man who can make anybody laugh, build anything, and do no wrong.

The rest of this story is coming directly from memory, which is about as good as pulling it directly from my ass. If any of it is wrong, I will update it. The way I see it, this is my story and I can tell it however I want.

Day 3 turned out to be the most beautiful of the whole trip. After leaving Cartersville, we paddled along the expansive James River, again sometimes being so far from each other we didn't talk for a few hours at a time. B.I.L. paddled the banks, again, trying to find treasure. I on the other hand, don't enjoy the threat of dead trees falling on me, so I stayed near the middle and enjoyed the easier paddling of the faster water there.

Everybody thinks I'm kidding when I mention dead trees falling into the water. During a day trip on the Rivanna River last Spring, I witnessed a hawk landing on the top of a dead tree trunk. As he touched down on the jagged stump, about 30 feet in the air, the dead trunk gave in and fell to the water with a tremendous splash. An almost identical situation happened about 25 yards behind B.I.L. on this day. There was no bird, but a large limb fell from the top of a tree and crashed into the water, directly where B.I.L. had been paddling a few moments before. Told ya.

I think MapQuest is on to me. Shhh. I can't save the map anymore and write on it to show you what we did. When I right click on the map, it zooms now. It used to let me save it. Damn, you mean I have to come up with my own maps? I can't just pira...borrow them from MapQuest, anymore? What's the deal?

I can't remember how many miles we paddled for this day. I'm sure B.I.L. will let me know, and I will add that later on. We did at least 30 miles. There was a little blotch on the map marked, "Public Use Area". Hoping for a campground, we paddled like mad to get there. There is a clearly defined island on the map called Sabot Island. I was using Sabot Island as my landmark to locate the "Public Use Area," but there is a difference between maps and the real world. The little river that hooks into the James to form Sabot Island, called Little River, is really little. I never saw the little bastard, and therefore could not tell the difference in Sabot Island and the regular bank. This bit of il-navigating ultimately led us to a pretty cool camp site. You'll see what I mean, later.

Another difference between real life and maps are the symbols used to mark riffles and rapids. It is the same symbol. The little riffles in the Rivanna River are marked with the same symbol as the class V rapids in downtown Richmond. This means you cannot tell from reading a map if that water you hear up ahead is a riffle, a class V rapid, or a waterfall. An area that we took a particular interest in was a squiggly line (riffle, rapid symbol) running across the blue part of the map that denoted the James River, near a group of islands. Islands and squiggly lines on maps are a good recipe for rapids. I held the map in my lap and navigated our way, very well, through the group of islands. The squiggly lines turned out to be small riffles that we named "No Problem". This part of the James River was extraordinary. Islands broke the river apart and turned it into large streams, some smaller than the Rivanna River. The James bubbled over rocks and through islands, resembling a mountain brook. It really reminded me of places I visited with my mom and grandparents as a kid in Montana. Traversing this area made me think very hard about a paddling trip in Montana. The Montana trip idea was killed this night while I was trying to sleep.

The sun was going down and the shadows from the banks were getting longer until they finally traversed the width of the river. By this point, we had left the islands, I had missed the upstream point of Sabot Island, and we were coming up on a small group of little islands that were not on the map. Although a river only runs one direction, I was lost. I had no idea where we were in relation to Sabot Island and the islands we were now entering were not on the map. My navigation skills had been promising to this point. But at the moment, I couldn't figure out where we were. I hollered at B.I.L. to pull into a beach if he found one because I needed to pee. Actually, I needed a guise because it was getting dark and I had no idea if we had passed the "For Public Use" place or not.

B.I.L. found a great sandy beach on the first island of the group. I landed my boat and began studying the now useless chart. "Did you see the tip of Sabot Island, yet?" I asked B.I.L. acting like anybody could miss it if I did. To my relief and disappointment at the same time, B.I.L. had not seen it, either. We stayed on the beach for a little bit as I peered at the chart. B.I.L. followed a sandy path behind some trees and found the Eden of campsites. The other islands had "No Trespassing" signs posted all over them, but this one was not marked. B.I.L. took this photo the next morning. Notice you cannot tell we camped there. This was a priority for us on all of our campsites. I wish more people could camp this way.
B.I.L. was awesome about the whole ordeal, so we decided to make camp on this spot. We named this one "Probably Private Property, But Who Cares, I'm Tired." In about half an hour, we had our boats hidden on the sandy path, the tent was pitched, and B.I.L. was starting the stove. As normal, I was running my mouth when B.I.L. shhh'ed me. I could tell by the look on his face I needed to shut the hell up, so I did. Then I heard it, too. Voices. We immediately dropped to the sand, hoping to not get caught. This just turned into a situation of Commando Camping, a term coined by B.I.L. Some dork in a Hobie Kayak was paddling upstream without a PFD or shirt, even though it was getting rather cool at this point. He rode the small rapids next to our campsite back down towards a friend in a canoe, who was waiting downstream. He never saw us, and we didn't see anybody else the rest of the night.

The photo above shows the kayaks hidden on the sandy trail. The campsite is to the left. Can you guess which shadow belongs to which person?

I tried to stay up until nine that night so that I could call the blog from B.I.L.s cell phone, which remarkably had coverage. At about 8:30, I was dead to the word, curled up in my sleeping bag prepared for the coldest night during C.R.A.K. This is what killed the Montana expedition idea. Knowing we would be reaching Richmond the next day, we agreed to get up early and leave as soon as there was enough light on the water. We also had a time frame of only a few hours in which my wife's wonderful sister could pick us up once we reached Richmond. Will we make it? Stay tuned...



Fair winds and following seas...

Day 2: How to Drink Coffee From a Sports Bottle.

We woke up a few hours after the butt crack of dawn to break down the camp and prepare our boats for our first long day. Day 2 found us leaving the Rivanna and entering the cavernous James River. About three miles from our camp we stopped in Palmyra to answer the call of nature at a conveniently located store where I scored a large bag of M&Ms and a cold Dr. Pepper. This stop would turn out to be the first, and only, time I would take a crap on the trip. That could have been a good thing, considering I did not have to tote a bucket of poop with me, but it ultimately led to problems for me on the last day. But I digress.

As I said in the Day 1 post, we searched for the other camp site that is marked on the map, but were unable to locate any such place in real life. We didn't need it, so it wasn't a problem. I'm adding this tid-bit in case someone else would rather pass the first spot and camp further down stream. Good luck finding it.

A new bridge is under construction in Palmyra. The construction crew seemed to be pleasantly entertained as we dropped off a small ledge in their work zone and headed down the peaceful Rivanna River. Reportedly, the new bridge will host a pedestrian and bike path to allow more convenient access into Palmyra. Sounds pretty good, we'll see how it turns out.

When we left the camp area this morning, a bunch of suds caught up to us that we passed the day before. The suds began to show up in the vicinity of Lake Monticello, then fizzled out later on during day 1. On the morning of day 2, I caught sight of some globs of foam that have been in the news recently along the James River. Before now, though, the foam has not been mentioned in the Rivanna River. Because of lighting, we were not able to get any decent photos of the foam. I will probably return to the area in a week or so to take some pictures and grab a couple of samples. Nobody is very sure about the source of the foam, or even what chemical properties are causing the phenomenon. It's still pollution, and I don't like pollution in my river. The foaming idiot causing this mess will be found and hopefully the river will not be too badly damaged.

On a better note, we did see our first bald eagle of the trip while on the Rivanna River! Unfortunately, we did not get any pictures. We also saw a couple of Osprey soaring above the trees, numerous ducks, tons of geese, a few kingfishers, heron, woodpeckers, and an unidentified mammal swimming in the water. Most likely, he was a groundhog since there were no signs of beaver in the area. The Rivanna River does play host to mink, though, so it is possible we saw the ever elusive and shy mink.

I thought I was eager to get out of the Rivanna and begin exploring the new territory of the James River. I thought this, until we finally reached the James. When we entered the huge, expansive James, I looked back at the dwarfed Rivanna and began to feel out of place. Part of me wanted to paddle back into the narrow break in the trees that marked the mouth of the Rivanna. An overwhelming sadness cloaked my body as I watched it fall away farther and farther off my stern. It looked like a creek compared to the wide bodied, slow flowing James. I had the misfortune of the slow moving James keeping the Rivanna within my eyesight for quite a while. Finally, I had to force myself to look ahead and leave my river behind. There was a whole world of opportunity ahead of me, even if I didn't know about it at that time. To keep myself from becoming home sick, I concentrated on the task at hand and aimed my bow in the direction of Elk Island.
Other than the guy challenging me from the bank on the Rivanna, the James brought to us our first encounter with other people enjoying the river. A couple of people were fishing from a small boat in the James at the mouth of the Rivanna. There is a state boat ramp across the river from Columbia, a small, near ghost town that sits at the intersection of the Rivanna and the James.

In its day, Columbia was a bustling city having the advantage of prime real estate at the intersection of the two busiest shipping lanes in that area of the state. Small wooden boats called Batteau carried goods to and from Charlottesville on this route. A system of locks, canals, and dams were built to accommodate the boats. In some areas of the Rivanna the ruins are still visible, including an aqueduct that actually crossed the river at one point.

We paddled for several hours, covering about 30 miles during the day. Eventually, Elk Island appeared on the horizon and we paddled towards it for a couple of hours before actually reaching the upstream beach and stopping for lunch. I took the opportunity to check the charts and figure out where we might want to stop for the night. The
downstream end of Elk Island looked to be about all the paddling we would be able to handle.

Elk Island is rather large, so we paddled along side of it for most of the afternoon. It was covered with farmland that appeared to be raising corn in its fertile soil. An unfortunate observation I made anytime we passed farm land, whether it be crops or cattle, was an over abundance of plant growth in the river. This is the effect of fertilizer pollution in the river. This type of pollution is a great example of how rivers become tainted. Unlike the common types of pollution, such as storm water drainage, water treatment plant drainage, and trash, like tires and forty ounce beer bottles, fertilizer is not dumped directly into the river. Instead, it is carried to the water by runoff. When we do things like cultivate the land, or build paved driveways, rain water cannot be absorbed by the soil and quickly makes its way to the rivers. With it goes everything we have put in the soil-fertilizer, pesticide, herbicide, any kind of chemical that is not naturally found in that area.

When fertilizer gets into a river or stream, it does what it is designed to do and encourages foliage to grow. "Why is that so bad?" You may be asking right now. "Wouldn't that be good for the animals that eat the plants?"

The answer to this question is "No!" River animals that eat plants are normally scrapers. That is, they scrape the plant material from the rocks and other hard surfaces that plants grow on. The scraping action of these organisms keeps plant growth within reasonable limits, allowing the bug to gain the purchase it needs to hang onto the rock and eat. Remember, rivers are always flowing and a bug that can't hold onto something, gets washed away. When fertilizers cause the plants to grow at a rate faster than the organisms can eat them, the organisms get washed away because they can no longer hang on to anything, thus, they die. The lack of plant eating bugs in an ecosystem allows the plants to grow even more out of control, and chaos ensues.

The same goes for pesticides and herbicides, only with a more noticeable impact. Pesticides, of course, kill all the organisms in the stream, including fish. While herbicides kill the plants and start the same process that fertilizers do. No plants, no plant eating bugs. Then the organisms that eat the plant eating bugs disappear, and so on. That is how the food chain works.

Because of this type of pollution in addition to viruses and bacteria, we were afraid to use any water purifying gadgets in the river. We packed all of the water we would use and carried it with us the duration of the trip. The boats were a little heavy, but neither of us got the runs.

I grew up in a farming community and have even done some farming myself. I love the lifestyle and would like to be able to have a farm of my own sometime. Traditional farming is very destructive, especially near a body of water. That is why farmers need more incentive to switch to organic farming. Using fertilizer and pesticide on genetically modified crops is an easy, inexpensive way to yield high production, even if it depletes the health of the consumer.

It never fails; anytime I go kayaking, I get rained on. This trip was not to be the exception. Thunderstorms had been forecast for this day for about a week. We got hit hard for about twenty minutes with barrels of rain. Soaked and tired, we finally reached the end of Elk Island and discovered a nice camping spot on a small hill at the narrow tip of the island. Raccoon tracks littered the area, so after cooking dinner, we strung up some lines and hung all of our gear out of the reach of the crafty critters.

The camp site was ideal. Nice, soft dirt under the tent. Even a slight trickle could be heard from the river crossing a rock just off the bank. It was perfect until the sun went down and the first train went by. Every twenty minutes, all night long, a train passed by. There were no crossings within twenty miles, so we didn't have to put up with horns, but the rumbling engines and clacking cars kept us up most of the night. At about six A.M., I had enough and crawled out of the tent. B.I.L., not able to sleep as well, followed me outside where we made our breakfast and some instant coffee. We sat there waiting for the sun to give us enough light to pack the boats and get going again. At about 8 A.M. we were back on the water and paddling towards Cartersville, where we thought we would get some good coffee and maybe more M&Ms.

How to Drink Coffee From a Sports Bottle: First you need the nastiest tasting instant coffee you can find. Add just one (and please, for the love of God, not any more) teaspoon of the powder to an empty sports bottle (the kind bicycle riders drink from). Heat some water over your camp stove, don't worry about bringing it all the way to a boil. Boiling water will melt the plastic water bottle, anyway. Add the water to the bottle, snap on the cap and shake vigorously. Drink at your own risk. On the last day of the trip, your paddling partner will tell you he has sugar so you can add that to your last cup to make it actually potable.



Fair winds and following seas...

Day 1: Getting Underway

Sept. 18, 2006: Our starting point was Woolen Mills dam in Charlotte- sville. As mentioned in an earlier post, we had no car to get our kayaks to this point. Luckily, this area is only a couple of blocks from my house, so we were able to carry the boats to the launch site. B.I.L. had a nifty set of wheels that strapped to his boat. We made a little kayak train down the road with one of us at the bow of my boat, the other carrying the stern with one hand and dragging the larger yellow boat on its wheels. When the person acting as the coupling between the two kayaks became too exhausted to hold the boats, we would switch positions. Most of the injuries for the entire trip occurred during this carrying phase. It really sucked big nuts.

At one point on our way to the river, a young Hispanic couple stopped and asked me for directions. But, they didn't "ask". Instead, they handed me a map that had a star marking their intended destination. I asked if they spoke English, to which the woman replied, "poquito"(sp?). "Shit" was my reply. Then B.I.L., who like I have said earlier, always comes through in any situation, came over and started speaking nearly fluent Spanish to the people! I forgot he used to live in South America and together, we got them turned in the right direction. While we were talking to them, some guy came out of his house and said, "You guys lost?" Then he looked at the two heavily loaded kayaks laying on the ground and said, "The rivers that way" and pointed in the same direction the kayaks were facing. No shit? Gee Willikers, thanks Mister!

Here are some pictures that help explain why it sucked so bad to carry the boats by hand to the river. On the bow of my boat, seen in this picture, is a dry bag with all the food I will have for the trip (minus a bag of M&Ms and a Dr. Pepper that I will acquire later on). Inside the bow, between my knees, sit three gallons of water. The stern storage area is covered by my PFD in the picture, but that is where my sleeping bag rode, along with a pair of flip-flops and assorted odds and ends that I tossed in there along the way. The next photo details the cockpit area.


One of the three gallons of water is visible in this picture. The red thing behind the seat is my backpack with the rainfly pulled over it. The backpack carried dry clothes, a rain coat, one fleece pull-over, duct tape (an essential item), extra batteries, a compass that I completely forgot about until the last day, a cigarette lighter, and all the charts that we would cover(a total of 8 charts were covered on this trip). This backpack has been with me since I lived in Juneau, AK. I have taken it on all of my hiking and mt. biking trips, and it has served as my carry-on when flying. Now it has ridden with me in the kayak. Tucked behind the seat with the backpack is a diving flashlight(extremely bright and water proof), sun block, and something else that I can't recall at the moment. To the left of the seat is a diving knife and my sleeping pad(rolled up blue thing). On the right is my GPS (Thanks, Mom!) and a bag filled with snack food because I eat a lot. The black pole on the right of the seat is my paddle and I have no idea what the blue thing is behind the cockpit.

Here is B.I.L.s boat, the workhorse of C.R.A.K. He is carrying everything I am, plus more water, the tent, stove, even the wheels that we rolled it to the river on! The kayak was very nearly loaded to its limit. With B.I.L. sitting in it, the boat only had about two inches of freeboard! But it lost weight everyday as we drank more water and ate more food.

I got home from work at about 7:45 Monday morning. By the time we loaded our boats and carried them the distance to the river, it was 11:30ish before we finally departed. The Rivanna River was flowing very well. Even with the yellow boat as heavy as it was, we never had to get out and carry the boats. Only in one area did we get out to scout a route through some rocks.

We had a nice route picked out to river right that looked shallow, but the flow was an even, straight line. River left hosted a wild looking spill over some rocks that took an abrupt left turn through a small rock garden. It was definitely passable, but not what we were looking for with the amount of weight we were carrying on our boats. B.I.L. went first down the right side without any hitches. I began to follow when I heard a voice hollering, "Red boat!" I looked around and saw an older gentleman standing on the left bank. Puzzled, I paddled closer to him to see what he wanted to say. We hadn't seen anybody, not even other boaters, all day. Now out of nowhere, an old man shows up and starts telling me to take the route on the left. I was shaking my head "no" and pointing to the right when he challenged me with, "I did it the other day in my canoe." Oh, it's on, old man!

I steered my boat to the spill and paddled off it, bouncing off the rocks at the end. No harm done, I looked back and waved with a smile to the man on the bank. When I looked back in front of me, that's when I noticed the next drop that couldn't be seen from our scouting area up stream. My kayak fell off the drop in perfect form, bow first. I paddled like mad to keep from tipping as the standing wave at the bottom of the short drop gushed into the cockpit and gave me a good soaking from my neck to my toes.

B.I.L. was already at the bottom laughing at me as I spilled down the rocks into the more calm water where he was waiting. "What the hell are you doing?" was his greeting. "That old man on the bank said he did it the other day in his canoe; I had to do it. I think he's full of shit, though," I said, sponging the water out of my boat.

The rest of the day was fairly calm. There were a few areas on the map that we were a little nervous about. Some dams were marked that we had never seen before, but they had all been breached long ago and posed no threat to us.

At about 16 miles from our put in, two public camping areas were marked on the map. The first one was on an island and the second was on the right bank, past the island after a large "S" bend in the river. We stopped at the island, which had obviously been camped on, and stayed the night, although it wasn't marked as a campsite. The next day we looked for the camping area on the right bank and never found it. Neither of the public camping areas on the Rivanna River are marked. That made a couple of tired kayakers pretty pissed on their first day, but all worked out fine in the end.



Fair winds and following seas...

Done!!

We made it to Richmond a couple of hours ago. The GPS is showing 89.8 miles, but the batteries began dying at the end of the trip and it shut down a couple of times. Actual mileage is closer to 95. The Rivanna was gorgeous and treated us fairly well. There were a few spots of small rapids called riffles, but they didn't give us too much trouble. Day 2 put us on the James. The first part of the James was extremely boring. It was wide and the current was slow, so it felt like we weren't moving. For all the effort it takes to paddle a loaded kayak, it was a little disheartening. Day 3 was filled with excursions through scenic islands where the river split into several smaller bubbling brooks. Day 4 (today) started out foggy on the water and cool enough to warrant B.I.L. and I to sport our fleeces. By noon we shucked the long sleeves and enjoyed another boring paddle in the wide, slow moving James River. We had to portage around 2 dams as we migrated into the last map of the trip. The day of boring and slow paddling ended with cockpit filling class III and IV rapids.

The trip went extremely well-by that I mean we are both alive and neither of us took a spill, quite a feat for nearly 100 miles in a kayak. We took a few pictures, but not as many as I had hoped. Turns out, it is unbelievably hard to hold a camera, read a map, and paddle a kayak, all at the same time. After I get some rest and a very large dinner and breakfast, I will post the day-by-day events and explain why I didn't blog during the trip. More to come over the weekend.




Fair winds and following seas...

T Minus 6 Hours...

I am at work right now. It is 3:17 am according to the computer I am on. In 4 hours and 13 minutes I get off work and will ride my Vespa home, where B.I.L. is comfortably asleep at the moment, and we will somehow get the yaks down to the river and begin the most anticipated event of the season.

C.R.A.K. is getting off to a rough start, thus far. With all the planning, charting, checking and rechecking of gear, practice and scouting trips, we forgot one minor detail. We don't have a car. My wife has to be at work at 7:00 am; taking our only car. When 4 hours and 13 minutes is added to 3:17, the sum is 7:30. B.I.L.s wife had to go back to Richmond yesterday because she, too, has to be at work this morning. Uh-oh.

Never to fear! B.I.L. is here! B.I.L. is one of those people you can always count on to pull through in any situation. That is why I am so pleased he is going on this trip. At the last moment, he whipped out a nifty set of wheels that strap onto the kayak so it can be pulled around, rather than carried. We may have to do this in two trips, but we are going to be able to wheel the kayaks down to the river-no car needed! Our put in is only a couple of blocks from my house, farther than we want to carry the yaks, but close enough to wheel them down there with his contraption.

As I was getting ready for work, B.I.L. made the last run for food, water and hopefully, beer. On my way out the door I bid my wife goodbye and goodnight, being as I won't see her again until our return. Everything is set. B.I.L. has his camera packed (mine is still lost), and all the gear we need including food, water and shelter. What a swell guy that B.I.L. is.

Just as predicted, I didn't get much sleep yesterday, so the first day should be a pretty good grump fest on my part. We hope to make it to the James in one day, we'll see how I fare throughout the first leg of our journey. A public campground is conveniently located at the halfway point of the Rivanna to the James. We intend on going all the way to the James today, but we do have the option of stopping short at this campground if I can't hack it.

I will be keeping a daily log and calling home when we have cell service so my wife can update the blog. B.I.L. might include his two cents as well, so that should add an interesting two person perspective on the daily events. Check in every evening or morning for updates. Also, keep an eye out for sound bites from the field. I have set up a system on the blog that will allow me to call and leave voice mail type messages for you to listen to. That should work out really well with my non-Ted Coppell voice. It'll probably sound more like Don Gay or Willie Shoemaker. No offense to either of these extraordinary gentlemen, they just happen to be short Texans, such as myself, with no voice for commentary.

Weather: Weather.com is predicting partly sunny skies all week with the exception of Tuesday, when thunderstorms are expected. Highs today will be 89! Dropping to the mid 70s for the rest of the week. Looks like the nights will be a little brisk, dipping into the low 50s and 48 on Wednesday. That'll be nice after a day of rain...

Rain is ok, but lightning is a show stopper. If the rain becomes torrential or lightning strikes, we will have to stop and set up camp. That weather is just too dangerous to be on the water. We'd like to survive this trip, if at all possible.

River Conditions: The Rivanna River, leg one, is at 2.85 ft. That is pretty good, we should be able to paddle the length of the Rivanna without bottoming out and having to walk. The Cartersville gage on the James river, leg 2, has dropped drastically over the weekend. This morning, it is standing at 2.04 ft, which is fairly low for that area of the river. The James River at Richmond Westham is at 4.61 ft this morning. Again, another area with good flow. We should be able to make up for any lost time with that amount of water under us. And finally, the last gage on our route, which is in an area of locks known as Richmond Locks, is reading 2.21 ft right now. This gage is constantly changing as the locks empty and fill, so it is a good estimate of the river through this area, not a reading of actual conditions.

With the exception of predicted thunderstorms for Tuesday, the weather and river look promising for the coming week. The low water at Cartersville should fill up from Tuesday's showers before we get there, so that should not pose a problem. Now the only threats we face are snakes in sleeping bags (my worst fear), and getting shot at for camping in the wrong spot. All in all, it should be a good trip!



Fair winds and following seas...

2 Days To Go!

News from the C.R.A.K. Still no freakin camera and no money to buy one. Hopefully BIL's not-so-reliable camera will decide to behave itself and take at least two pictures during the trip. Then again, he still hasn't emailed me the pictures he took three weeks ago*. It rained last night, but on the way home this morning the sun was out. It was a beautiful morning for a ride on the Vespa. I passed three people walking and one person riding a bike and got a smile from each of them. The biker even waved as I passed. At first, I thought it was because I looked so good, but then I remembered I was wearing a full faced helmet. So I have to give credit to the "cute" scooter. The wave and smiles really made up for the asshole in the S.U.V. riding my ass for most of the commute. I was doing the speed limit...P.S. I can call people in S.U.V.s assholes because I don't have one anymore. An S.U.V. I mean. I still have an asshole, and like those S.U.V. drivers, it stinks.

After a wonderful morning of scootering, I logged on to check my email and stumbled across this story on AOL. Had I been the one writing it, I would have called it "White Flight Hits All Time Low". I have a feeling some of the people that read this blog won't agree when I say so, but this is really sick:

Here is the link so you can read it as published on AOL with pictures.

Immigration Raid Makes a Ghost Town

By RUSS BYNUM, AP

STILLMORE, Ga. (Sept. 15) - Trailer parks lie abandoned. The poultry plant is scrambling to replace more than half its workforce. Business has dried up at stores where Mexican laborers once lined up to buy food, beer and cigarettes just weeks ago.

This Georgia community of about 1,000 people has become little more than a ghost town since Sept. 1, when federal agents began rounding up illegal immigrants.

The sweep has had the unintended effect of underscoring just how vital the illegal immigrants were to the local economy.

More than 120 illegal immigrants have been loaded onto buses bound for immigration courts in Atlanta, 189 miles away. Hundreds more fled Emanuel County. Residents say many scattered into the woods, camping out for days. They worry some are still hiding without food.

At least one child, born a U.S. citizen, was left behind by his Mexican parents: 2-year-old Victor Perez-Lopez. The toddler's mother, Rosa Lopez, left her son with Julie Rodas when the raids began and fled the state. The boy's father was deported to Mexico.

"When his momma brought this baby here and left him, tears rolled down her face and mine too," Rodas said. "She said, `Julie, will you please take care of my son because I have no money, no way of paying rent?"'

For five years, Rodas has made a living watching the children of workers at the Crider Inc. poultry plant, where the vast majority of employees were Mexican immigrants. She learned Spanish, and considered many immigrants among her closest friends. She threw parties for their children's birthdays and baptisms.

The only child in Rodas' care now, besides her own son, is Victor. Her customers have disappeared.

Federal agents also swarmed into a trailer park operated by David Robinson. Illegal immigrants were handcuffed and taken away. Almost none have returned. Robinson bought an American flag and posted it by the pond out front - upside down, in protest.

"These people might not have American rights, but they've damn sure got human rights," Robinson said. "There ain't no reason to treat them like animals."

The raids came during a fall election season in which immigration is a top issue.

Last month, the federal government reported that Georgia had the fastest-growing illegal immigrant population in the country. The number more than doubled from an estimated 220,000 in 2000 to 470,000 last year. This year, state lawmakers passed some of the nation's toughest measures targeting illegal immigrants, and Republican Gov. Sonny Perdue last week vowed a statewide crackdown on document fraud.

Other than the Crider plant, there isn't much in Stillmore. Four small stores, a coin laundry and a Baptist church share downtown with City Hall, the fire department and a post office. "We're poor but proud," Mayor Marilyn Slater said, as if that is the town motto.

The 2000 Census put Stillmore's population at 730, but Slater said uncounted immigrants probably made it more than 1,000. Not anymore, with so many homes abandoned and the streets practically empty.

"This reminds me of what I read about Nazi Germany, the Gestapo coming in and yanking people up," Slater said.

Immigration and Customs Enforcement spokesman Marc Raimondi would not discuss details of the raids. "We can't lose sight of the fact that these people were here illegally," Raimondi said.

At Sucursal Salina No. 2, a store stocked with Mexican fruit sodas and snacks, cashier Alberto Gonzalez said Wednesday that the owner may shutter the place. By midday, Gonzalez has had only six customers. Normally, he would see 100.

The B&S convenience store, owned by Keith and Regan Slater, the mayor's son and grandson, has lost about 80 percent of its business.

"These people come over here to make a better way of life, not to blow us up," complained Keith Slater, who keeps a portrait of Ronald Reagan on the wall. "I'm a die-hard Republican, but I think we missed the boat with this one."

Since the mid-1990s, Stillmore has grown dependent on the paychecks of Mexican workers who originally came for seasonal farm labor, picking the area's famous Vidalia onions. Many then took year-round jobs at the Crider plant, with a workforce of about 900.

Crider President David Purtle said the agents began inspecting the company's employment records in May. They found 700 suspected illegal immigrants, and supervisors handed out letters over the summer ordering them to prove they came to the U.S. legally or be fired. Only about 100 kept their jobs.

The arrests started at the plant Sept. 1. Over the Labor Day weekend, agents with guns and bulletproof vests converged on workers' homes after getting the addresses from Crider's files.

Antonio Lopez, who came here two years ago from Chiapas, Mexico, and worked at the Crider plant, said agents kicked in his front door. Lopez, 32, and his 15-year-old son were handcuffed and taken by bus to Atlanta with 30 others. Because of the boy, Lopez said, both were allowed to return. In his back pocket, he carries an order to return to Atlanta for a court hearing Feb. 2.

But now, "there's no people here and I don't have any work," he said.

The poultry plant has limped along with half its normal workforce. Crider increased its starting wages by $1 an hour to help recruit new workers.

Stacie Bell, 23, started work canning chicken at Crider a week ago. She said the pay, $7.75 an hour, led her to leave her $5.60-an-hour job as a Wal-Mart cashier in nearby Statesboro. Still, Bell said she felt bad about the raids.

"If they knew eventually that they were going to have to do that, they should have never let them come over here," she said.

*BIL, I'm just busting your balls, dude. Take your time with those pictures.

Fair winds and following seas, illegal immigrants...