Well, this was probably our most successful year in a long time on the river. I think we may have broken the Curse of the Yellow Duck. Everyone made it throught the rapids this year without a hitch. As a matter of fact, the only time I hit a rock was with my paddle towards the end of the rapids at the Doons. Other than that we sailed right through the roughest parts of the raging water without incident.
The trip started out great. We were able to meet up at the cabin early Friday morning with The General and Rev with 98% of our gear ready to go. We had to do a little dinking around to repack a few items that were either duplicates or needed to be downsized. Next we got mine and Duckie's canoes loaded on the Generals trailer and soon we were headed to the town of Bigfork to buy license for the Canoes. I can't believe that Duckie and I have owned our own canoes for three years now. It was about that time that we realized that the General and Duckie both had forgotten to grab a CD player for the trip. So while I was buying the license, they were searching for a CD player to buy for the trip since Duckie had burned a shit load of new CD's. Sadly though, none were to be found, however, Duckie called our Mom and she was able to borrow one from one of the doctors at the hospital. Funny thing is that I don't think he knew about it, but that doesn't matter because we returned it to him in the same shape we got it.
After messing around in Bigfork for about an hour, we were off to the Highway One Bridge, this year's launching point. We chose to start there this year becuase we wanted to skip the Highway One Rapids. It seems like those rapids have clamied more people than the Doons have. They are considered a smaller class of rapids but are by far harder to navigate. We figured that if we started there this year we would at least have a fighting chance at a good run. Yet our hearts sank a little when we pulled into the launch site.
Sitting there, with canoes ready to launch, was a group of four men ready to take their journey down the Bigfork. The General chatted with them a little and found out that there were headed for the Muldoons their first night, the same place we were headed. I'm not going to lie when I say it pissed me off a little bit. I know the river is open to all that may want to enjoy its cool, relaxing waters, but I felt like they were stepping on our toes a little because this is suppose to be the River Runners weekend, not some other band of local-yocals. I knew that since they were going to be the ones to leave the landing first, they were going to be the ones to get the good campsite at the top of the "Fucking Hill". I just kept thinking to myself that we wouldn't have to tackle that fucking hill with all our gear, so it wasn't such a bad thing this year for the Mule to miss. Once the other group on the river took off, we were able to get our canoe's off the trailer and into position to be loaded.
It truly is a poetical thing to watch our crew load our canoes'. We take a majority of our shit, throw it all on the landing infront of the water-crafts and then begin to methodically place every item into a specific nook or cranny of our vessels. Whenever people stop in to watch, they gaze in total amazement as we find a way to stuff ten pounds of shit into a five pound bag. It never fails to impress me how well we load our gear into our canoes so as to maximize all the possible space within the skinny space allowed. By the time we finish loading, our canoes look like this:
The piolit and navigator usually have room enough to sit somewhat comfortably with little to no gear right below their feet. Most of the piolits have some gear right behind them, while both peole have gear located under their seats. Between the two people is a lump of gear covered by a tarp with a spider-web of rope and bungees holding everything into place just in case of a roll-over. On top of the tarps are the usuall, life-jackets, a spare paddle or two and a possible jacket, in case the wind picks up and things get a little chilly.
This year I was the designated "Beer Bitch" for the first day of the trip. This meant that I had to have access to my cooler so whenever someone wanted a cold one while making our way to the Doons, I could oblige them.
About twenty minutes after our choosen start time we pushed off from the shore and started this year's trip. Duckie was in my canoe, while The General had Digger in his, and this year Rev was going it solo till the following day when we were scheduled to pick up Princess since she had to work that night and could not get off to join us for the start. A hundred yards down the river I cracked my first brew and boy did it taste good. I knew right then that this year was going to be a great year for the trip.
To Be Continued...
Till next time I will remain...Crazy Joe
The story of The Bigfork River Runners begins back in 1996. It was the end of my first year of higher education and to celebrate I put together a motley crue of friends to take a canoe trip down the Bigfork River on Memorial vacation. The trip was a blast to say the least; since then we have carried on the tradition of canoeing the river every year on Memorial Weekend. Through this blog The Bigfork River Runners will share their stories and pictures from trips past and trips to come.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Can't believe it is over all ready!
Well the trip is done and over with for the year. We all had a great time. The river was flowing fast , the beer went down so good, the fire stayed in the ring and new friends were found on the river. So now for 13 years the Bigfork River Runners have conquered the mighty river and we pray that there will be many more for those of us going again. Pictures and more post will shortly follow in the next few weeks so stay tuned.
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