I've said before that there's not much in
nature that I love as much as a river. The main reason for that stems to my
teens and early 20s. My friends and I would go up to South Fork Campground and
nearby campgrounds and tube nearly all day every day for days on end. We had
the river memorized. We knew when to paddle to each side of the river to stay
in the current and in the deeper areas. We knew the danger zones where tubes
went to die. We knew which trees were safe to float under and which needed to
be avoided at all costs. We could almost do the run with our eyes closed. We
would get in the river at different spots in the river, but more often than
not, we would float down to my best friend's (Duane) granny's land right on the
river. Get out and walk back. We even knew short cuts through certain camp
grounds to shave time off the walk back. We would play our tubes like a drum
line while walking. We survived cases of sunburn, or worse, tube rub. Tube rub
is what you get on your inner bicep when you DON'T wear a 3/4 or long sleeve
shirt and then paddle while on an old rubber inner tube. It's a rash that
KILLS! We would warn greenies, and then watch with amusement when they would
think we were joking about wearing longer sleeves. We always say YOU ONLY GET TUBE RUB ONCE!!! (Current plastic tubes don't afflict you
thus) With all the things that changed over the years, there was one thing that
never changed. At the start of EACH run, we would "pay homage to the river
gods." This was our little ritual
where we would place the tube in the river, flip it over so the top would get
wet, and then flip it back over. We were very superstitious about this. If we
failed to do it, we lost tubes, shoes, or other items. Something bad would
happen. Always. Without fail.
As the years have passed, I haven't been
able to tube much as all. Most of the
time I'm working when my family goes back up there. This year however, I was in
town and I went up. At the start of each run, I paid proper homage and tried to
teach my family the importance of the act. They weren't open to this necessity,
but I still persisted. During one run on Friday (28th) I decided that I was
feeling very nostalgic and was going to float down to my Duane's granny's place
for old time sake. I took about 5 nieces and nephews with me and down we
floated. As we approached the camp sight, I stood up and walked out of the
river to see my friend and his wife sitting by their camper. We had a great
visit and planned to run the river together like old times, the next day.
Saturday we drove 4 pickups full of people
up to the starting point and we all got in. My friend, his two kids, and I were
the last to start. Duane pointed out that no one else had paid homage. I told
him my preaching had been falling on non believing ears. I looked over and saw
his kids flipping their tubes. Good kids. So down we floated. The waves of
nostalgia were washing over me more than the river waves. The day was hot and
the river was cold and it felt wonderful. When we got to the halfway point,
most of the people got out, but about 6 of us continued on.
About half way from there to the end
location I heard the unmistakable raspberry sound that signaled that my tube
had just become a sacrificial offering to the river gods. I finally got my
footing and Duane walked the short way back to where I was. I frustratedly
said, "Man, I even paid homage and everything. What the heck?!" His
reply was, "Well, you wanted nostalgia. The river gods gave you nostalgia.
We have to double up." I stared at
him for a minute and said, "Dude, the last time we had to double up on a
single tube we were both nearly 20 years younger and 100-150lbs lighter
EACH!" He reasoned that I got what I wanted and we had to do it.
So gentle reader, imagine if you will, two
nearly 50 year old men, with a combined weight of over 500 lbs, sitting back to
back on a single tube, floating down the river. I can't imagine what people on
the river bank must have been thinking. As we approached their property, Duane
yelled to his wife to bring the camera. Thanks to that, we have photographic
proof that we actually made it the rest of the way down the river in one of the
most ridiculous ways possible. As much as I morn the loss of a tube, I have to
admit that it was such a silly situation that I can't help but smile and laugh
about it.
Thanks, river gods. You done good, and I
pay you homage.
*flip. flip. flip*
