We're Back and Blue...(part II)

As you may have well noticed that some of the nicknames have changed during the course of the most recent excursion down the Bigfork, as you continue to read the log of our journey you will learn why.

There is something about canoeing a river that can't be explained, it just has to be experienced to truly understand. It is a quiet, peaceful beauty that takes hold both inside and outside the body. Gliding across the serene waters, being pulled along only by the use of a couple of paddles and the current itself makes a person feel like they are slipping back a little in time to when life wasn't full of the hustle and bustle we endure most days. Simply put, it is a tiny slice of Heaven.

That is the emotion that grips me each year the crew takes to the river. When the initial yearly chatter about how the canoe is centered or why we didn't allow ourselves a decent amount of leg room for the journey dies out, we drift along in silence for a short while, drinking in the moment. "Then the General says, "This is what I live for." Everyone chimes in their approval and we toast to the moment with a sip from our brew.

Crazy Joe and The General enjoying the River

It takes about an hour before the houses start to thin out and we begin to enter patches of wooded areas. The houses we pass aren't new to the world, many of them a house 2nd, 3rd and even 4th generation families. It is always fun to imagine what it would be like to own a house on the river. Someone, usually me, always makes a comment on about stealing one of the river boats to help the General lighten his load. Swampy areas also dot the shore line on the Bigfork and almost always kicks up a duck or two. This year Em and I had a beautiful green-headed mallard fly about five feet away from the canoe. It was gone around the corner before Em had a chance to pull out the camera and snap a shot. Once in a while we will startle a deer, or most likely it will startle us. This year Em and I came across a strange, yet very large creature attempting to swim across the river. While Em was pulling out the camera I was trying to paddle as quietly as possible to close the distance between us and the mystery animal. It got halfway across the river before noticing us, then it turned and went back to the shore from which it come. We weren't able to get close enough to see what it was, but Em did get a picture. By the time we reached the spot where we saw it, it was gone. In hindsight we should have stopped by the shore and checked for prints to determine what it was, but we didn't. I thought it looked like an elk, but that is probably very unlikely. It could be a young moose by its coloring, or maybe even a bear. We will probably never know, just another mystery on the Bigfork.

Emily not wanting her picture taken.

After that first hour we did the traditional hook-up where we tie all the canoes together and just float the river and drink some beer. This is one of our favorite things to do on the trip. Not only does it make the canoes stable enough to stand up in a stretch the legs or hang them over the sides in the cooling waters, but also allow the bullshit to really fly. James, the General and I were all the pilots this year, which is pretty much standard, nevertheless, we started to pass the Jagermeister back and forth. James and I had already done a couple of shots with some Red Bull so we were feeling pretty good. The girls didn't join in on the shots, they were content to just drink their beer. Em had a couple of Mt. Dews before she started to take part in the festivity's.

We separated when we got to the Rice Rapids. Duckie and the General went first. They had a little trouble at the middle of the rapids, a nice sized rock got in their way and threw them a little of course. Em and I we second, and took a route a little to their left, Em was right, it was a mistake. We hit a different rock, got turned a little sideways, then backwards. Before we new it, we were wedged between two rocks, facing backwards. I yelled back to James and the Mule to take the route to the far left. When we got stuck, I saw that it was the best way to take rapids. And you wouldn't fucking believe it, but James and the Mule made it with no problem, as did Duckie and the General, us on the other hand, we were fucked.

The Mule glad shes dry

We got the canoe stable to the point we wouldn't tip, then we attempted to push off the rocks to get the nose pointed back in the right direction. But no matter what we did, we couldn't move the canoe but a foot or two in either direction. The current was too strong to move the canoe upstream and this stupid rock prevented up from moving the nose down stream. I even switched to my back-up paddle, which was a small all wood paddle, for added strength to push off the rocks...still nothing. Having been in this situation before, I knew exactly what I had to do, hop out of the canoe, turn it back down stream and hop back in without flipping. If the weather had been nicer I would have had shorts on, however, on that day I was in my jeans. I took everything out of my pockets, secured them on top of my cooler and hopped out of the canoe. The river's temperature was enough to cause a little shrinkage, but overall not as bad as I thought it was going to be. With little to no trouble I got the canoe turned and got back in, then we got stuck again, since I was wet I once again jumped out. This time I got us set for good, I didn't want to have to do this again because I was bringing a lot of water back into the canoe with me. We did have all our gear we needed to keep dry in dry-bags, but having a couple of gallons of water sloshing around the bottom of your canoe just plain sucks. We shot the rest of the rapids without incident. When we got to the end, there was the rest of the crew cheering us on and snapping pictures of our arrival. Being stopped we made a quick rest stop so people could relieve themselves, then back down the river we went.

It didn't take long for us to hook the canoes back up again, as we did I made myself a portable bilge pump from an empty beer can and began to bail our canoe.

Down the river we floated, the outside canoes took turns paddling to keep us from running into low lying branches or snags hanging out in the water. Snags I can handle, but its the low lying branches I hate to go under. Simply because I hate fucking spiders, and they love to hang out in those branches. Every year some asshole has to shake a branch we come to close to in hopes of knocking a big ol'hairy spider into my canoe. When they sometimes succeed, I swat at the damn thing with my paddle as I cures them out like a salty old sailor. Pricks.

"The moment came as it comes to all when I had to answer nature's call" - Tom Paxton Talking Vietnam Potluck Blues

During Em's brother's first two years on the trip, he soloed the entire trip in a shorter canoe. This was great when we hooked up because if someone had to take a leak they would just crawl across the canoes and into his; he would then take them to shore. Once they were done, he would bring them back to their canoe. This year we didn't have that option. I came prepared by bringing myself along a one liter Mt. Dew bottle for relieving myself. The General and James have perfected the art of standing and kneeling on the gunwall of the canoe, (only when connected in the group) and peeing that way. Neither of these option were really available to any of the girls, yet they did come up with a way of "going" while we were all grouped-up. We had a small wash-bin in the front of our canoe, and that became their "portable john". Em and the Mule had great success with this new system, Duckie on the other hand kept getting stage fright. No matter how much she had to go, she couldn't. Each time she finished trying she would say, "I just need to drink another beer, then I can do it". Never happened. Eventually we had to disconnect so the General could take her to shore to do her duty.

Semi-Incredible Hulk, probably singing

By the time everyone got back on the river I had had time to take a good look at the map and access just how far along we were on our journey. We had planned to make it all the way to the Busti Camp Site, but we had spent a lot of time hooked-up, so we didn't make the best of time. We had gone a long ways, but it was getting close to 3:00 PM and we were getting hungry. If we continued with our plans it would be between 5:00 and 5:30 by the time we reached the camp, much less set up camp, start a fire and cook our grub. I then threw out the suggestion of stopping at the same spot we did a couple of years back and camp there. By my calculations it would be only a mile or so down the river. Then we would have a little more time on the river the following day and be a little more sober before we went through the Highway One Rapids. The General and I had a short discussion on the topic and offered the choice up for a vote. It was unanimous, we would stop and camp in the little field we did back in 2002.

To Be Continued...until then I will remain...Crazy Joe