The Curse of the Yello Duck Part IV

I can't remember if this was the first year that Dishman brought his climbing rope or not. He had lived in Colorado for a couple of years with his older sister and had gotten into rock climbing. He is a man that fears nothing, and I literally mean it, so it didn't surprise me that he had gotten into that dangerous sport. He had decided to bring the rope, and rest of his climbing gear, because such items can and do come in handy when trying to set up a large tarp for a rain-fly. In any case it was a good thing he had brought it this year because before too long it was going to come in very, very handy.

As Dishman went to fetch the rope, I emptied my pockets on the shore, heaven forbid I get my smokes wet, and took the first step into the chilly waters. Instantly goosebumps shot up my leg and the rest of my body followed suit. I could only imagine how poor Beans was feeling, or wasn't feeling for that matter. She must have been in the water for at least fifteen minutes, maybe longer. She looked absolutely miserable.

Four steps into the river I almost lost my balance slipping in a slick rock the size of a basketball by my feet. Losing my balance, even just slightly, caused me to drift a couple of feet down river. I had underestimated the strength of the current in my rush to get out to my cousin. Quickly I was able to regain my balance and force my body back up stream. I decided to go back to shore, walk up stream a ways, and then angle myself downstream todays their wedged canoe. It was then that I realized that once we got Beans out of the water we were going to have an even bigger task of getting the canoe out. "Fuck me." I said under my breath.

Having taken a smarter approach to get to the canoe, I was at Beans side in no time.
"How you doing?" A stupid question I know, but I didn't want to ask, "Are you having fun yet?"
"Just lovely." Her words were heavily laden with sarcasm. About this time Dishman was back with his rope. He was about to head into the river with one end when Duckie stopped him. She grabbed the rope and went upstream to get a better angle to reach us.

While we are waiting for Duckie to get to the canoe, I start to examine the situation. The canoe, although wedged on the rock, was wobbling back and forth from the current. Duckie had learn from me well because all of their gear was still in the canoe, soaked, but securely tied in. I glanced over the top to check out the bottom and I saw a huge tear in the hull. Yep, this trip wasn't going any farther than these rapids. I grabbed the stern and tried to pull it against the current to see if I could dislodge it from the rock. It moved a few inches back towards me, but then the mighty Bigfork pushed back and easily won the battle.

No sooner did I turn around and Duckie was there with he rope.
"I'm sorry Beans," she apologized again.
"Shit happens," Beans replied with a shrug.
"Do you think we can get it off the rock?" Duckie asked me.
"Maybe Dishman and I can get it loose, but I doubt it. There's a lot of pressure from the current. I think we're going to have to unload it."
"I'm sorry," she apologized again.
"Hey," I said looking at Beans, "shit happens."

By now Dishman had the rope wrapped around a tree to use as an anchor as the three of us used the rope to pull ourselves out of the drink. I immediately lit a smoke as soon as I quit dripping enough to not drench my pack.

"What's the plan?" Dishman looked out to the half submerged canoe with a hunger for adventure in his eye. I loved the way Dishman always approaches a task with a beautiful optimism.
"Well we figure out a way to get the damn canoe out of the river," I said exhaling a drag. "I tried to move it when I was out there, I got a little wiggle, but that was it. Like I told Duckie, we are going to have to unload it."

Uloading a canoe isn't a difficult task when it it upright an on shore, but half submerged in the middle of river rabids is a completely different story. I knew the second we cut or untied the ropes holding the gear it we were going to have a lot of shit that was going to want to float away into oblivion. I wasn't too worried about the larger items like coolers and totes, although they were bulky, they could be half-assed floated back to shore. No what I was worried about was the little shit, chair-in-a-bags, small utility-boxes, lanterns and propane canisters, plus the other various odds and ends we pack into our canoes. Once we cut the lines and opened up the tarp it was going to be a free-for-all.

We agreed that Beans should stay on shore and the rest of us would go back into the water to start hauling gear. We had the angle down on how to make it back to the canoe without getting taken away by the current. Pretty soon we were once again up to out nuts in the chilly water that was relentless in tying to push us down the river. All three of us got on the stern and tried to use our combined might to free the canoe. And once again the Bigfork kicked our collective asses.

"I don't think we are going to move it even if we get it unloaded," Dishman commented after our third attempt.
"Well if we get it emptied, maybe you and I will be able to lift it up and flip it over the rock, dumping the water out."
"I don't know," Dishman said sceptically. "With the current and weight of the water, we are probably looking at 800 pounds or better."
"I didn't know you were good with math." I said with surprise.
"I'm not. But I know a SNAFU when I see one."
"Let's just get the shit out and then see where we are." Duckie said as she started to untie one end of the rope. The second she got the rope loose, the river caught the tarp and filled it up like a sail in the wind. A small tote with extra rope, bug-drug and other camping items dislodged and threatened to sink to the rocky bottom of the Bigfork. I snatched it up just before it drifted out of reach.

"We have to be more careful," I said looking at Duckie. "Or we are going to lose a lot of shit." I noticed that I had the fifty gallon black Hefty bags in this particular tote. Sweet! I thought as I carefully emptied the water out and pulled out the black roll. "We can use a bag or two to load up all the small stuff," I said handing Duckie a black bag. "Just be careful it doesn't fill up with water."
"No shit," she said snatching the bag.
"I'm just saying..." but I let it go. Duckie wasn't in the best of moods, which was understandable.

Little by little we would open up the tarp and add all the small things we came across into the bag. Then without warning, it happened.

While we were concentrating on containing and bagging all our little camping gear items, we had failed to notice that the red bread and chip cool was slowly dislodging itself from the confines of the tarp. With a slap from a ripple caused by the fact we were standing in the middle of rapids, the red cooler popped out and took off down the river.

"Dishman! Grab that cooler!" I yelled as it quickly floated off. I wouldn't believe it had I not seen it.

Dishman practically jumped out of the water, how he got that much lift is beyond me. I mean the guy is built like a brick shit-house, but damn it was a hell of a vertical. The truly amazing part was that he landed on top of the cool like a pouncing cat. Both Duckie and I stood there in wide-eyed and mouth agape as we watched our cousin ride a cooler down the Highway One Rapids.

At first he was on top, riding the red cooler. Then he hit a rock, but instead of falling off her held on and suddenly the cooler was riding him. Bouncing off yet another rock he was now on his side, with his head pointed down-stream, but still hanging onto the fucking cooler. Somehow he righted himself and was once again on top. This varied pattern of who was riding who continued until passed under the bridge and collided with the big snag of trees and brush on the other side.

"Holy shit!" I said pointing. "Did you see that shit? He rode that sonofabitch the whole freakin' way."
"Only Dishman could pull off a stunt like that." Duckie said with amazement. "I wish I had my camera."
"That would have been sweet." I agreed.
"Was it just me or was he yelling woo hoo?"
"Knowing Dishman, probably."

After hitting the snag, Dishman got his fee underneath himself and stumbled his way to shore, pulling the cooler behind him. With all the banging and crashing into rocks, I was amazed that the cooler had stayed shut the entire way. Later, when we opened it up, both the bread and chips were dry as a bone and in perfect shape.

Later, when we asked what the hell he was thinking, Dishman said that it seemed like a fun thing to do at the time. He knew that once he lept onto the cooler he was going to have to ride it out because the current was too strong to fight. He was right because the part he went through was all white-water.

About a half-hour after Dishman's rodeo ride down the rapids on a bucking red cooler, we had all of girl's gear on shore and was attempting to free the empty canoe from the rock. Just as Dishman had predicted, we were unable to do much more than move it a couple of inches. Duckie and I looked at each other, thinking what the other was thinking, we had only one option left. We had to go to the Brula's and see if one of us could get a ride to Effie and get some help from Dad.

The Brula's moved to the Effie area from Tower in 1986 or 87 and bought a place on the river about a quarter mile from the rapids. Both Duckie and I were close in age to their children, and their son and I had take Tae Kwon Do classes together, so they are good friends of the family. This wasn't the first time, however, that we have had to ask them for some assistance. A couple of years earlier we had to borrow a couple of life-vests from them since we don't allow anyone to go unless they have a vest. It is an absolute must when it comes to shooting rapids.

Duckie was the one to go and get a ride into Effie. Dad was still at work, but I knew that all we needed was his come-along. A come-along is a type of hand-winch that provides, well I don't really know the specifics, but I do know it is a shit-load of leverage. I also knew that if we could get that we could easily use Dishman's rope and a tree for an anchor to pull the canoe from the clutches of the Bigfork.

Roughly four hour later Dishman and I, Duckie and Beans, were sitting around a warm crackling campfire in dry clothes, sipping on some beautiful Jameson and Coke's. The Irish Whiskey was doing wonders to warm our bones. The thundering roar of the Highway One Rapids filled the air. We had decided to spend one last night camping, even though we were done canoeing. Duckie had brought back our Dad and with help of his come-along we pulled the canoe out. Being that we were also close to home home, we were able to replace all the soaking wet items with dry ones from Mom and Dad. As I said before, the canoe was shot, but what was crappier was that it was a rental. But what were we to do, shit happens.

Duckie said when they got to the rapids, she picked her Vee and let the current pull them in. About twenty feet into the rapids they nudged a rock on the left and the bow bounced off just enough send it to the right side of the rock that the canoe was trapped on. Well, when the canoe was turning sideways she panicked and attempted to jump out of the canoe so she could right it and keep if from tipping. Seemed her foot got caught on something and only half her body made it out of the canoe, however, the half on the inside did exactly what she was trying to avoid; that half tipped the canoe into the current and well, you know the rest.

I suppose you are wondering where in the hell that damn yellow duck comes into play. Duckie had been the one to find the duck and take it from the river. The duck was in her canoe when she tipped, free floating, not tied down. Some how, some way, that little yellow duck got trapped behind the stern seat and was there when we winched the canoe to shore. Duckie and Beans were the first ones to tip a canoe on the trip since I had dumb and dumber with me that time at the Doons five years ago, remember this happened in 2004. In 2005 we didn't bring the duck with us and made it without incident, but 2006 was a totally different story. That year we brought the duck and well...I'll save that for another time. But this is the story of the beginning of the Curse of the Yellow Duck.

Until next time I remain...Crazy Joe.