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THE PAVEMENT November 23, 2006Drowning Lessonsstory and photos by BENNETT BARTHELEMY It's easy to yearn for action
when you find yourself continually in the role of documenter.
So last Saturday was to be my day. I made it t On Friday, straightaway I had been banned from borrowing a kayak from my work when they found out my ambition. I couldn't lie to all the questions they hit me with: Do you know your roll? A T-rescue? Will you portage every rapid? Have you been on a river before?!? One co-worker offered: "Might be a little bony out there -- most people don't run it in the fall." They mentioned names of rapids, and Hell Hole in particular conjured up rather unfriendly images. Hmm, maybe it's for the best, I reasoned, but upon arriving home I found Ben had left a phone message promising he had everything I would need. So I was committed. It turned out that Colin, a school acquaintance, would be joining us too. Then, while organizing gear, Ben's girlfriend Tamina decided that she wanted in on the fun. Both of them were as experienced as I was. This necessitated a last-minute scrounge for helmets, boats, paddles and sprayskirts. It wasn't until after noon that we actually made it to the river, and with only three boats. As Colin was getting suited up he casually asked, "Is this a bicycle helmet?"
From the crumbling hillside below the highway I could see Colin opting to portage the first real set of rapids (he had already swum three times) and Tamina in her hot-rod red boat picking her line and weaving through the rocks like a seasoned pro. I was impressed that she didn't bounce off the boulders and flip, and quickly reasoned that: a). It really was mellow, b). She was guided by dumb luck, c). Her wider beginner's boat was very stable and forgiving. Whatever it was, I was ready to prove myself. I had to live up to all the tough talk I had thrown down on the drive up as we passed the elephantine rapids. I later asked Tamina what was going through her head on the rapid. "I felt like I was in a video game where all the rocks were out to get me and missing them meant extra points!" Her scariest moment of the day was walking back to the car at the mid-point switch with little more than my camera covering her. She was worried that the car-full of young men screaming and honking at her wanted to steal the camera. It all went bad from the first toe freezing moment I stepped into the water. I watched with consternation as Colin was given Tamina's red boat, which meant I was to take the yellow torpedo he was using. I sensed a conspiracy. I lasted about a mile, and a good portion of that was under the water. Eddies routinely spun me, then sucked the tail (stern?) down, activating panic mode in the icy water as I attempted to wet exit while my head bounced off cobbles. The other portion was spent hiking barefoot over sharp, slick rocks while portaging around Z Drop (said to be the most tame class II rapid on the river). Ben, looking a bit worried, politely pointed out, "We can't portage every rapid." I happily waved Ben and Colin on and headed up the embankment to the highway, thankful I had swapped boats with Ben below Z-drop for the very light rubber ducky play-boat that amounted to little more than a heavy-duty kazoo, and not much bigger. I collapsed on a two-foot wide margin of dirt before the asphalt, taking advantage of the little warmth the dropping sun afforded and shivered for an hour before Tamina arrived with the car.
At the takeout Ben's toe was gashed and bleeding and likely broken (Ben jammed it into his foot-adjusting peg, which sheared it off while dropping into Hell Hole onto a rock) and the bottom of Colin's foot was all bloody from what he didn't know -- but they seemed too blissed out to notice really or feel any pain. On the drive home Ben conceded that to do the run at this water level was "not recommended." Since our adventure, Colin has already thrown down several hundred for a used boat of his own. Ben just paid half a grand for a used Mamba play-boat that he swears is incredibly stable, and is trying to lure me out again. Tamina is ready to step it up on some bigger rapids. Me? I must be getting old. I am anxious to engage drier pursuits on warm vertical stone, and leave the rivers alone for a while.
Email Bennett Barthelemy at [email protected],
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