Collinsville VI
Where: Farmington River
When: 7/19-20/2003
With: The Stupids
Planning for this trip began in June, when Chip & I started to discuss summer camping trips. Our immediate concern was a trip for the two of us, but Chip mentioned that he might be available for two trips this year and we thought a late summer/early fall trip with the rest of the Stupids might be worth considering. I said I'd been thinking about a return to the Farmington and somehow the planning changed to another Stupid kayak adventure. We contacted the rest of the crew, suggested a couple of fast-approaching dates and by some miracle found that everyone was ready, willing and available for a weekend in mid-July.
I volunteered to cook again, and Chip was able to borrow a small kayak from a friend. Since David had two sea kayaks, that meant we could avoid having to rent boats this time. I suggested hammock camping, offering my old army rig for Seth's use. Chip purchased a new hammock of his own and we were all set. We confirmed travel arrangements and arrival times and were ready to go.
Chip arrived at my house on Saturday at 8 and we were packed up and on our way by 8:30. We arrived in Collinsville a half-hour before our agreed meeting time (10:30) so we made a few stops in town while awaiting the others. David appeared first, driving up as Chip & I were crossing the road from the kayak center. I only saw one sea kayak on his car, then realized he had the other boat inside his mini-van. We directed him up to the deli where we'd planned to meet, then walked up to find Seth arriving at the same time, along with a couple of friends he'd stayed with. We bought sandwiches in the deli for lunch later, chatted with Seth's friends, then decided to hit the road.
Our first stop was just around the corner, at the liquor store. I picked up a bottle of red wine to go with dinner then joined in the discussion of what else to get. David requested pina colada makings, but the store didn't have them. I thought flavored vodka would be good but Chip suggested whiskey. What kind? Scotch, Irish, Canadian, Bourbon? The choice was Bourbon, so now the decision was the brand and the quantity. We settled on the classic Jack Daniels and I left Chip & Seth to decide on the size of the bottle. They emerged from the store with the largest bottle available.
The trip upriver was quick and uneventful. Our combined memories guided us to the proper routes and to the parking area just below Hogback Dam where the cars disgorged their cargoes of boats, boaters and gear. To our surprise, David's second boat was not another sea kayak, but a small boat like my Keowee. Seth claimed it for his ride and we began the process of stowing gear and preparing to launch. Around noon we pushed off into the current, quickly making our way across to a small cove across the flow to group up before pushing off downstream. A few small ripples challenged us right away, then we came to a small drop that we all negotiated successfully. It seemed we'd all regained our paddling skills and we pulled over to the shore to assess our progress. I set off again first, then heard Chip yelling, "Paddle!" I looked upstream to see him holding up his arms and pointing at David's paddle. Somehow Chip's paddle had floated off and was nowhere in sight. I paddled back upstream to help but Chip waved me to head downriver to a flat area, in case it had floated down. I made my way down and found a rock to use to survey the water. Chip & Dave continued to search near where the paddle was lost and Seth set up midway between us. The search continued for quite a while (10, 15 minutes?) without any luck and we all began thinking of contingency plans. We were close enough to the cars to send one or more folks ashore and back up the road to retrieve them, aborting the river trip and just turning the weekend into a campout. Or we could split one of the other paddles and two of us could continue with single blades.
Just then I spotted something in the water and paddled over. It could have been a large stick, but then I saw the drip cups and knew it was the paddle. I called to Seth and held up the find. Seth relayed the news upstream to Chip, who began to make his way down to me. David still continued upstream though. We called to him several times without any response, but finally got his attention and showed him that all paddles had been accounted for.
As we gathered up we decided we'd had the trip's Big Adventure and could now continue without further incident. We were mistaken. Shortly afterwards Chip swamped his kayak when he leaned into a turn and the river poured into his cockpit. Chip got soaked, his gear got wet and a number of things (water bottles and such) floated off and had to be retrieved. We got the water out of Chip's boat (I don't remember if I helped with this...Dave was nursing a bad back and we all waved him off any heavy lifting), reloaded Chip & his gear and started off again. That was Big Incident #2...surely we were done, but no. Soon afterward Chip went over again and once again we stopped, retrieved gear, emptied the boat and started over but that wasn't the end of it. Chip continued to swamp his boat over and over again. On one dunking he lost his beloved bugle. While clearing the water from his boat another time he lost his glasses. Chip grew increasingly upset and frustrated and that probably just made matters worse. We finally made it to the bridge in Riverton, where we stopped to regroup. We took a long break, let Chip vent some of his feelings to the bridge echoes and did what we could to make things better. We got all of the water out of Chip's kayak and insisted he carry his heavy (and now soaked) backpack down in the boat rather than strapped on top.
We all hoped the break under the bridge would provide an opportunity to refocus and regroup, and to a certain extent it did. It helped that the river below the bridge was calmer and made for easier paddling. That gave us all some confidence back, though I recall there were a few more dunkings downstream. Overall though we did better, but we'd lost a lot of time. While there was still a good amount of daylight left, we were far behind where we expected to be and just plain burned out. In previous years we'd made the run to the campsite in three and a half hours. This time we found ourselves approaching four hours on the water and we were nowhere near our beloved pool. We decided to try to find our first year campsite and use that as a decision point. Depending upon our mood and the time of day, we could call it quits there and set up camp or continue on.
Somewhere in this stretch of the river Seth took notice of a bunch of crows making a lot of noise around a large tree overhanging the water. He went to investigate and discovered the cause of their consternation: a great horned owl sitting on a branch. Chip & I pulled in to see as well, but he was well hidden. I finally managed to catch a glimpse of the huge bird just before he spread his wings and flew back into the forest.
For a time I thought I'd missed the upper campsite, even convincing myself at one point that we were close to our original destination (though we hadn't passed certain landmarks yet), but then I spotted a familiar shoreline and pulled in. Dave was close by and I had him stand watch for the others while I went to confirm the location. A small path led from the river up to a well-defined dirt trail along the riverbank and on the bluff above was our old campsite. I returned to the river to discuss the situation with David. It was now about 4:45, with the other campsite an uncertain distance downriver. I guessed thirty minutes to an hour of additional paddling. The upper site was available and probably wouldn't pose any usage issues (i.e., landowners coming to hassle us). On the other hand it didn't offer a nice rock to hang out on, nor a beautiful secluded pool. We decided we'd prefer to continue, an option accepted by the others when they arrived.
Once again we pushed off into the current, hoping to make this the final run of the day. As the others paddled downstream, I heard a cry of "Paddle!" once again. Looking over I saw a man & woman with a canoe, stuck on some rocks. The woman was gesturing frantically and the man was out in the water and making his way downstream. I looked ahead of him and spied a paddle floating away from him so I paddled over and managed to retrieve it. I handed it to the man and started downriver again, then noticed another paddle floating along. Once again I caught up with it and looking back, saw the man walking downstream along the shore. I tossed the paddle onto the shore, made sure the guy saw it, and turned to rejoin my friends.
They'd not gotten too far ahead of me, and I caught up with them fairly quickly. I was hoping my assessment of the remaining distance was close to correct. I recalled having to go through a town with a cement wall forming the river bank on the right, and that soon appeared around a bend. A short time later a bridge crossed the river, followed by an encouragingly familiar fork in the water's path. I looked back to make sure the others saw where I was going. Seth was close by and the others weren't far behind. A small set of ripples led into the forest, then the waterway curved to the right and soon our old favorite rock came into view. There was no sign of anyone else already there, so I swung my boat into the little cove to finish the day's paddling. The others arrived within a few minutes, all happy to finally rest their paddles. It was just about 6PM, nearly six hours after we'd pushed off and two and a half hours longer than it had taken us in previous years. No wonder we were fried!
Since it was fairly late I decided to get dinner going right away. Tired as we were, any downtime would probably lead to sleep pretty quickly. A little activity and a little food were needed. Fortunately the meal was a quick one...my award-winning Trail Tortellini Supreme. I'd created it on that same rock four years earlier so it seemed appropriate to have it again. The amount of pasta proved to make things interesting, with the pot I was using quickly filling to capacity as the tortellini expanded to the vessel's capacity in the boiling water. I was able to keep things cooking by stirring and circulating the mass though and a taste test eventually indicated everything had nearly cooked. I set the pasta aside to finish cooking off the burner and began working on the topping. Chip supplied the salmon, which I added to a bubbling mass of sun-dried tomatoes, porcini mushrooms, peas, and olives, spiced up with garlic, red & black peppers and the infamous Mongolian Fire Oil. At last everything was ready. The wine was uncorked, everyone took a hearty helping of the pasta and fish mix, and we all sat down to dinner. Calm descended on the camp.
The rest of the evening was spent talking, fishing, setting up the hammocks and just unwinding. Chip was the only one who braved the water for a swim. A lone fisherman showed up for a time, first fishing a bit downstream then just sitting on the other side of the pool. He never spoke to us or really acknowledged us at all. Toward dusk a fish rose to the surface and the fisherman stood up to begin casting at the pool. He fished for a while without any success, then began talking on a cell phone before walking off into the woods and disappearing. The others went for a walk for a bit while I fished the pool (without any luck), then returned as it began to get dark. The temperature began to drop and the mosquitoes came out in force so we all began to head to our beds.
I was grateful for the warmth of my bedding and the comfort of the hammock as I settled in. My sleeping system was a fleece sleeping bag (fortunately brought instead of the original choice of a flannel sheet) inside my bivy cover, with my ultralight Thermarest pad inside as well. The bivy had straps for the pad and I figured that would keep it under me in the hammock, but it wound up being extremely cumbersome to get into. With the hammock you climb into your bag outside first (standing up) and then get into the hammock. The pad made this nearly impossible to do so I pulled it out and placed it in the hammock on its own before climbing in. That worked out just fine. In no time I was snuggled in, listening to the last few innings of the Red Sox game on a small radio.
The game ended in extra innings a bit after 10:00 (the Sox won) and I removed the earbuds to settle in to sleep. Just then I heard Seth make some unhappy noise. I asked if he needed help and went out with my flashlight (he just had a lightstick). He was having trouble keeping from spinning over in his hammock. We made some adjustments to the lines and I stood by as he climbed in again. He said it was better so I left him and returned to my hammock, where I fell asleep pretty quickly.
I was up at 3:00 for a bit, made note of the moon just making an appearance, then slept until a bit before 6:00. I rested a bit, enjoying the morning, but began to get chilled. I'd been using my sweater as a pillow all night and decided to get up to put it on, then figured I'd just get up for good. I made my way down to the rock, grabbed some gorp and water for breakfast, and enjoyed the morning. Chip stirred a bit at one point but stayed in his hammock. I did a little fishing (still no luck) and tried to find something worthwhile on the radio. I'd hoped for NPR but couldn't find a station so I tried the AM station that had had the Sox game. They gave me 2 minutes of sports then went into a broadcast of a Sunday sermon. I switched back to FM, listened to two women talk about bats for nearly half an hour then returned to AM. Again, two minutes of sports followed by a rabbi with his spiritual offering! God was trying to tell me something! At one point I heard an odd noise and saw some movement on the island across the pool. I took out the ear buds and tried to see what it was but there was nothing. A bit later though it happened again and this time I was able to spot a white-taile deer bounding through the undergrowth. Cool.
Finally the others emerged around 8:00. First Seth, then Chip and finally David. I boiled up a pot of water for coffee and everyone made breakfast of whatever was around (gorp, cookies, snack foods, some fruit David brought). We spent our morning in the usual manner, hanging out, talking, enjoying the outdoors. Around 11:00 we began to pack up. The troublesome bottle of Jack Daniels became the topic of conversation. One thought was to bring it out and have Seth give it to the first NYC wino he met, then I proposed that we hide it at the campsite. Some other fortunate camper might find it and count themselves lucky, or we might return and find it ourselves. The solution appealed to everyone and the bottle was placed under the roots of a tree, well-hidden from view. That done, we finished loading the boats and bid farewell and thanks to the Pool.
Clear-headed this day, we enjoyed the cool morning air (though the day's warmth was growing) as we glided through the lower part of the side channel before rejoining the noisy main stream of the river. Just a short ways downriver we were joined by folks in tubes and soon thereafter we swept under the bridge marking the entrance to Satan's Kingdom. The moderate rapids under the bridge were a good warm-up for the larger waves below, and everyone proclaimed that wearing their sprayskirts (a change from the previous day for all but me) had helped keep the water out. I led the way to the big drop, hoping to get through and then return to take pictures of the others. A tuber in front of me forced me to backpaddle a bit before descending, then I took a line to the left and made a couple of good turns before having to make a final turn to the right. Alas I rolled too far and popped out, flipping the boat. My head never went under and I quickly righted the kayak to keep most of my gear inside. I made eye contact with the lifeguard to let him know I was okay, then kicked my way over to the shore, pausing along the way to retrieve a floating water bottle. I was pleasantly surprised to find I'd only lost a beach towel I'd found the previous day. Found and lost, so not a problem. I missed the action shots of the others though, preoccupied as I was with getting to shore. I did watch as they came through though and was happy to see they all made it without incident. After being the only one not to dunk on Saturday, I guess it was just my turn.
I emptied the water from my boat then paddled across the river to join the others on a small beach to warm up and regroup. We only stayed a short while before heading downstream again to the smaller Roostertail falls. I went ahead and got out on the rocks to finally get those action photos. Dave came through first, followed by Chip and finally Seth. Seth then joined me on the rock to take over the camera duties while I ran the rapids. From this point on, the rest of the trip was a couple of hours of lazy paddling, dodging folks in tubes (until they departed the river), enjoying the river and the scenery, and just winding down. After passing our favorite house, set on a curve of the river overlooking a final set of rapids, we began to encounter people in rented canoes & kayaks coming upstream and knew we were approaching Collinsville. Soon the water ski jump came into sight, where a lone skier provided some entertainment as we completed our journey.
The boats were hauled up the ramp and laid out under a tree in the small park, where I guarded them while the others went off to retrieve the cars. I settled in with a bag of gorp and my radio and enjoyed the Sox game until everyone returned. In short order we had the boats loaded and the gear stowed, so it was time to go our separate ways. Handshakes and thanks all around, then we were all on the road toward home. Another great trip.
Notes & comments:
The water was colder than usual this time. On the occasions when I was helping empty water out of someone's boat I found it too painful to even stand in for any amount of time. As a result my flippers, goggles and snorkel never saw any use. The rest of my gear all got used except for my water filter. David had brought a large supply of bottled water and we used that for drinking water. The water flow seemed about average, and the USGS Riverton gauge indicated we had a flow of about 270 square feet per second, down a bit from the levels of 300 & 310 we've enjoyed in the past.
In addition to the water, the air temperature was on the low side as well. I got quite chilled Saturday evening and woke up a bit cold at 3AM. The next morning everyone except David said they'd been cold all night. David avoided that by bringing a "real" sleeping bag while the rest of us just had fleece liners. Once again I slept comparatively well in my hammock. I still need to work out a few things with using it, but all in all I'd have to say it's my favorite camping shelter. I particularly enjoyed listening to the ball game in the hammock Saturday night, snuggled in to my fleece and letting my back have a rest.
Why was Chip flipping so much? It was probably a combination of things. His boat was smaller he was accustomed to, and loaded down with gear so it rode low in the water. It didn't take much of a tip to put the edge of the cockpit underwater, then the river would pour in and quickly swamp the small craft. Having his backpack on top raised the boat's center of gravity, making it even tippier. We also hadn't been on the water in some time. Both David and Seth also swamped at least once in the upper part of the river, so perhaps there was a bit of paddling rust involved. And finally there was the Jack Daniels. Chip had enjoyed a few toasts to the river and his ability to control his movements were somewhat hampered so he tended to overcompensate when he got into trouble.
More pictures
When: 7/19-20/2003
With: The Stupids
Planning for this trip began in June, when Chip & I started to discuss summer camping trips. Our immediate concern was a trip for the two of us, but Chip mentioned that he might be available for two trips this year and we thought a late summer/early fall trip with the rest of the Stupids might be worth considering. I said I'd been thinking about a return to the Farmington and somehow the planning changed to another Stupid kayak adventure. We contacted the rest of the crew, suggested a couple of fast-approaching dates and by some miracle found that everyone was ready, willing and available for a weekend in mid-July.
I volunteered to cook again, and Chip was able to borrow a small kayak from a friend. Since David had two sea kayaks, that meant we could avoid having to rent boats this time. I suggested hammock camping, offering my old army rig for Seth's use. Chip purchased a new hammock of his own and we were all set. We confirmed travel arrangements and arrival times and were ready to go.
Chip arrived at my house on Saturday at 8 and we were packed up and on our way by 8:30. We arrived in Collinsville a half-hour before our agreed meeting time (10:30) so we made a few stops in town while awaiting the others. David appeared first, driving up as Chip & I were crossing the road from the kayak center. I only saw one sea kayak on his car, then realized he had the other boat inside his mini-van. We directed him up to the deli where we'd planned to meet, then walked up to find Seth arriving at the same time, along with a couple of friends he'd stayed with. We bought sandwiches in the deli for lunch later, chatted with Seth's friends, then decided to hit the road.
Our first stop was just around the corner, at the liquor store. I picked up a bottle of red wine to go with dinner then joined in the discussion of what else to get. David requested pina colada makings, but the store didn't have them. I thought flavored vodka would be good but Chip suggested whiskey. What kind? Scotch, Irish, Canadian, Bourbon? The choice was Bourbon, so now the decision was the brand and the quantity. We settled on the classic Jack Daniels and I left Chip & Seth to decide on the size of the bottle. They emerged from the store with the largest bottle available.
The trip upriver was quick and uneventful. Our combined memories guided us to the proper routes and to the parking area just below Hogback Dam where the cars disgorged their cargoes of boats, boaters and gear. To our surprise, David's second boat was not another sea kayak, but a small boat like my Keowee. Seth claimed it for his ride and we began the process of stowing gear and preparing to launch. Around noon we pushed off into the current, quickly making our way across to a small cove across the flow to group up before pushing off downstream. A few small ripples challenged us right away, then we came to a small drop that we all negotiated successfully. It seemed we'd all regained our paddling skills and we pulled over to the shore to assess our progress. I set off again first, then heard Chip yelling, "Paddle!" I looked upstream to see him holding up his arms and pointing at David's paddle. Somehow Chip's paddle had floated off and was nowhere in sight. I paddled back upstream to help but Chip waved me to head downriver to a flat area, in case it had floated down. I made my way down and found a rock to use to survey the water. Chip & Dave continued to search near where the paddle was lost and Seth set up midway between us. The search continued for quite a while (10, 15 minutes?) without any luck and we all began thinking of contingency plans. We were close enough to the cars to send one or more folks ashore and back up the road to retrieve them, aborting the river trip and just turning the weekend into a campout. Or we could split one of the other paddles and two of us could continue with single blades.
Just then I spotted something in the water and paddled over. It could have been a large stick, but then I saw the drip cups and knew it was the paddle. I called to Seth and held up the find. Seth relayed the news upstream to Chip, who began to make his way down to me. David still continued upstream though. We called to him several times without any response, but finally got his attention and showed him that all paddles had been accounted for.
As we gathered up we decided we'd had the trip's Big Adventure and could now continue without further incident. We were mistaken. Shortly afterwards Chip swamped his kayak when he leaned into a turn and the river poured into his cockpit. Chip got soaked, his gear got wet and a number of things (water bottles and such) floated off and had to be retrieved. We got the water out of Chip's boat (I don't remember if I helped with this...Dave was nursing a bad back and we all waved him off any heavy lifting), reloaded Chip & his gear and started off again. That was Big Incident #2...surely we were done, but no. Soon afterward Chip went over again and once again we stopped, retrieved gear, emptied the boat and started over but that wasn't the end of it. Chip continued to swamp his boat over and over again. On one dunking he lost his beloved bugle. While clearing the water from his boat another time he lost his glasses. Chip grew increasingly upset and frustrated and that probably just made matters worse. We finally made it to the bridge in Riverton, where we stopped to regroup. We took a long break, let Chip vent some of his feelings to the bridge echoes and did what we could to make things better. We got all of the water out of Chip's kayak and insisted he carry his heavy (and now soaked) backpack down in the boat rather than strapped on top.
We all hoped the break under the bridge would provide an opportunity to refocus and regroup, and to a certain extent it did. It helped that the river below the bridge was calmer and made for easier paddling. That gave us all some confidence back, though I recall there were a few more dunkings downstream. Overall though we did better, but we'd lost a lot of time. While there was still a good amount of daylight left, we were far behind where we expected to be and just plain burned out. In previous years we'd made the run to the campsite in three and a half hours. This time we found ourselves approaching four hours on the water and we were nowhere near our beloved pool. We decided to try to find our first year campsite and use that as a decision point. Depending upon our mood and the time of day, we could call it quits there and set up camp or continue on.
Somewhere in this stretch of the river Seth took notice of a bunch of crows making a lot of noise around a large tree overhanging the water. He went to investigate and discovered the cause of their consternation: a great horned owl sitting on a branch. Chip & I pulled in to see as well, but he was well hidden. I finally managed to catch a glimpse of the huge bird just before he spread his wings and flew back into the forest.
For a time I thought I'd missed the upper campsite, even convincing myself at one point that we were close to our original destination (though we hadn't passed certain landmarks yet), but then I spotted a familiar shoreline and pulled in. Dave was close by and I had him stand watch for the others while I went to confirm the location. A small path led from the river up to a well-defined dirt trail along the riverbank and on the bluff above was our old campsite. I returned to the river to discuss the situation with David. It was now about 4:45, with the other campsite an uncertain distance downriver. I guessed thirty minutes to an hour of additional paddling. The upper site was available and probably wouldn't pose any usage issues (i.e., landowners coming to hassle us). On the other hand it didn't offer a nice rock to hang out on, nor a beautiful secluded pool. We decided we'd prefer to continue, an option accepted by the others when they arrived.
Once again we pushed off into the current, hoping to make this the final run of the day. As the others paddled downstream, I heard a cry of "Paddle!" once again. Looking over I saw a man & woman with a canoe, stuck on some rocks. The woman was gesturing frantically and the man was out in the water and making his way downstream. I looked ahead of him and spied a paddle floating away from him so I paddled over and managed to retrieve it. I handed it to the man and started downriver again, then noticed another paddle floating along. Once again I caught up with it and looking back, saw the man walking downstream along the shore. I tossed the paddle onto the shore, made sure the guy saw it, and turned to rejoin my friends.
They'd not gotten too far ahead of me, and I caught up with them fairly quickly. I was hoping my assessment of the remaining distance was close to correct. I recalled having to go through a town with a cement wall forming the river bank on the right, and that soon appeared around a bend. A short time later a bridge crossed the river, followed by an encouragingly familiar fork in the water's path. I looked back to make sure the others saw where I was going. Seth was close by and the others weren't far behind. A small set of ripples led into the forest, then the waterway curved to the right and soon our old favorite rock came into view. There was no sign of anyone else already there, so I swung my boat into the little cove to finish the day's paddling. The others arrived within a few minutes, all happy to finally rest their paddles. It was just about 6PM, nearly six hours after we'd pushed off and two and a half hours longer than it had taken us in previous years. No wonder we were fried!
Since it was fairly late I decided to get dinner going right away. Tired as we were, any downtime would probably lead to sleep pretty quickly. A little activity and a little food were needed. Fortunately the meal was a quick one...my award-winning Trail Tortellini Supreme. I'd created it on that same rock four years earlier so it seemed appropriate to have it again. The amount of pasta proved to make things interesting, with the pot I was using quickly filling to capacity as the tortellini expanded to the vessel's capacity in the boiling water. I was able to keep things cooking by stirring and circulating the mass though and a taste test eventually indicated everything had nearly cooked. I set the pasta aside to finish cooking off the burner and began working on the topping. Chip supplied the salmon, which I added to a bubbling mass of sun-dried tomatoes, porcini mushrooms, peas, and olives, spiced up with garlic, red & black peppers and the infamous Mongolian Fire Oil. At last everything was ready. The wine was uncorked, everyone took a hearty helping of the pasta and fish mix, and we all sat down to dinner. Calm descended on the camp.
The rest of the evening was spent talking, fishing, setting up the hammocks and just unwinding. Chip was the only one who braved the water for a swim. A lone fisherman showed up for a time, first fishing a bit downstream then just sitting on the other side of the pool. He never spoke to us or really acknowledged us at all. Toward dusk a fish rose to the surface and the fisherman stood up to begin casting at the pool. He fished for a while without any success, then began talking on a cell phone before walking off into the woods and disappearing. The others went for a walk for a bit while I fished the pool (without any luck), then returned as it began to get dark. The temperature began to drop and the mosquitoes came out in force so we all began to head to our beds.
I was grateful for the warmth of my bedding and the comfort of the hammock as I settled in. My sleeping system was a fleece sleeping bag (fortunately brought instead of the original choice of a flannel sheet) inside my bivy cover, with my ultralight Thermarest pad inside as well. The bivy had straps for the pad and I figured that would keep it under me in the hammock, but it wound up being extremely cumbersome to get into. With the hammock you climb into your bag outside first (standing up) and then get into the hammock. The pad made this nearly impossible to do so I pulled it out and placed it in the hammock on its own before climbing in. That worked out just fine. In no time I was snuggled in, listening to the last few innings of the Red Sox game on a small radio.
The game ended in extra innings a bit after 10:00 (the Sox won) and I removed the earbuds to settle in to sleep. Just then I heard Seth make some unhappy noise. I asked if he needed help and went out with my flashlight (he just had a lightstick). He was having trouble keeping from spinning over in his hammock. We made some adjustments to the lines and I stood by as he climbed in again. He said it was better so I left him and returned to my hammock, where I fell asleep pretty quickly.
I was up at 3:00 for a bit, made note of the moon just making an appearance, then slept until a bit before 6:00. I rested a bit, enjoying the morning, but began to get chilled. I'd been using my sweater as a pillow all night and decided to get up to put it on, then figured I'd just get up for good. I made my way down to the rock, grabbed some gorp and water for breakfast, and enjoyed the morning. Chip stirred a bit at one point but stayed in his hammock. I did a little fishing (still no luck) and tried to find something worthwhile on the radio. I'd hoped for NPR but couldn't find a station so I tried the AM station that had had the Sox game. They gave me 2 minutes of sports then went into a broadcast of a Sunday sermon. I switched back to FM, listened to two women talk about bats for nearly half an hour then returned to AM. Again, two minutes of sports followed by a rabbi with his spiritual offering! God was trying to tell me something! At one point I heard an odd noise and saw some movement on the island across the pool. I took out the ear buds and tried to see what it was but there was nothing. A bit later though it happened again and this time I was able to spot a white-taile deer bounding through the undergrowth. Cool.
Finally the others emerged around 8:00. First Seth, then Chip and finally David. I boiled up a pot of water for coffee and everyone made breakfast of whatever was around (gorp, cookies, snack foods, some fruit David brought). We spent our morning in the usual manner, hanging out, talking, enjoying the outdoors. Around 11:00 we began to pack up. The troublesome bottle of Jack Daniels became the topic of conversation. One thought was to bring it out and have Seth give it to the first NYC wino he met, then I proposed that we hide it at the campsite. Some other fortunate camper might find it and count themselves lucky, or we might return and find it ourselves. The solution appealed to everyone and the bottle was placed under the roots of a tree, well-hidden from view. That done, we finished loading the boats and bid farewell and thanks to the Pool.
Clear-headed this day, we enjoyed the cool morning air (though the day's warmth was growing) as we glided through the lower part of the side channel before rejoining the noisy main stream of the river. Just a short ways downriver we were joined by folks in tubes and soon thereafter we swept under the bridge marking the entrance to Satan's Kingdom. The moderate rapids under the bridge were a good warm-up for the larger waves below, and everyone proclaimed that wearing their sprayskirts (a change from the previous day for all but me) had helped keep the water out. I led the way to the big drop, hoping to get through and then return to take pictures of the others. A tuber in front of me forced me to backpaddle a bit before descending, then I took a line to the left and made a couple of good turns before having to make a final turn to the right. Alas I rolled too far and popped out, flipping the boat. My head never went under and I quickly righted the kayak to keep most of my gear inside. I made eye contact with the lifeguard to let him know I was okay, then kicked my way over to the shore, pausing along the way to retrieve a floating water bottle. I was pleasantly surprised to find I'd only lost a beach towel I'd found the previous day. Found and lost, so not a problem. I missed the action shots of the others though, preoccupied as I was with getting to shore. I did watch as they came through though and was happy to see they all made it without incident. After being the only one not to dunk on Saturday, I guess it was just my turn.
I emptied the water from my boat then paddled across the river to join the others on a small beach to warm up and regroup. We only stayed a short while before heading downstream again to the smaller Roostertail falls. I went ahead and got out on the rocks to finally get those action photos. Dave came through first, followed by Chip and finally Seth. Seth then joined me on the rock to take over the camera duties while I ran the rapids. From this point on, the rest of the trip was a couple of hours of lazy paddling, dodging folks in tubes (until they departed the river), enjoying the river and the scenery, and just winding down. After passing our favorite house, set on a curve of the river overlooking a final set of rapids, we began to encounter people in rented canoes & kayaks coming upstream and knew we were approaching Collinsville. Soon the water ski jump came into sight, where a lone skier provided some entertainment as we completed our journey.
The boats were hauled up the ramp and laid out under a tree in the small park, where I guarded them while the others went off to retrieve the cars. I settled in with a bag of gorp and my radio and enjoyed the Sox game until everyone returned. In short order we had the boats loaded and the gear stowed, so it was time to go our separate ways. Handshakes and thanks all around, then we were all on the road toward home. Another great trip.
Notes & comments:
The water was colder than usual this time. On the occasions when I was helping empty water out of someone's boat I found it too painful to even stand in for any amount of time. As a result my flippers, goggles and snorkel never saw any use. The rest of my gear all got used except for my water filter. David had brought a large supply of bottled water and we used that for drinking water. The water flow seemed about average, and the USGS Riverton gauge indicated we had a flow of about 270 square feet per second, down a bit from the levels of 300 & 310 we've enjoyed in the past.
In addition to the water, the air temperature was on the low side as well. I got quite chilled Saturday evening and woke up a bit cold at 3AM. The next morning everyone except David said they'd been cold all night. David avoided that by bringing a "real" sleeping bag while the rest of us just had fleece liners. Once again I slept comparatively well in my hammock. I still need to work out a few things with using it, but all in all I'd have to say it's my favorite camping shelter. I particularly enjoyed listening to the ball game in the hammock Saturday night, snuggled in to my fleece and letting my back have a rest.
Why was Chip flipping so much? It was probably a combination of things. His boat was smaller he was accustomed to, and loaded down with gear so it rode low in the water. It didn't take much of a tip to put the edge of the cockpit underwater, then the river would pour in and quickly swamp the small craft. Having his backpack on top raised the boat's center of gravity, making it even tippier. We also hadn't been on the water in some time. Both David and Seth also swamped at least once in the upper part of the river, so perhaps there was a bit of paddling rust involved. And finally there was the Jack Daniels. Chip had enjoyed a few toasts to the river and his ability to control his movements were somewhat hampered so he tended to overcompensate when he got into trouble.
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