Just Around the Riverbend
So camping contained the normal camping stuff, like s'mores and cards and swimming. But some of us also went on a 13-15 mile kayaking/canoeing trip. My grandpa, mom and aunt took the canoe while my cousin, sister and I took the kayaks.
I have been kayaking before but never down as fast a river as the Sturgeon, in Indian River, Michigan. My sister had never really been kayaking at all. Kim, the cousin, was good.
Coming around the first corner, unprepared for the speed of the river, I watched as Kim made it around the next bend. I then watched as I slowly (quickly) approached a tree that had fallen and smacked into it. Now, it wasn't the tree that caused me to go in the cold water. It was me trying too hard to redirect myself, rather than just go and chance it. So in I went. I floated along on my kayak, clutching my oar and the cooler I somehow had decided I could take and trying to keep the camera my uncle had given me above water, until I could touch and get to the side to empty the water. Just as I flipped my boat over, here comes my sister right into the same tree. She falls out. The canoers help her out while I get re-situated. Off I go.
I round the next bend and what do I see but my sister in the water again and the canoe in a tree as my mom tries to leap out and save her. We start again, the canoe bringing up the rear, banking off of bank after bank.
Soon after lunch, two hours later, the trouble starts again. We must've gotten out of our groove (or flow, ha ha) because I hit a log and take in water. So I have to get out to empty my boat again. My sister makes it around my water-logged kayak and, just ahead, "stops" to wait. Except that she falls out (for the fourth time). And this time we're in some really fast water with no shallow spots. Oh yeah, and she loses her paddle.
We pull over to some fallen (felled?) trees and empty the boat there as best as we can. The canoers, who were well behind us, pass, (as do some rafters who had been stopped for lunch when we passed them 10 minutes before) and we yell to look for the paddle. Kim heads downstream on the shore. I go up, along the shore, through the woods. Catherine, the sister, who has already lost her shoes that day and can't really walk through the woods, stays with the boats. I spot the paddle. And let me tell you, it was a battle getting there and then crossing that river. I am to' up (at least it's not "toe" up). It's like I was attacked by a bear. I don't have just some scratches from a few sticks. It's like whole branches went into my arm and legs. Gouges everywhere. And a nice deep purple (and pretty) bruise covering my whole left knee from when I tripped over a log, trying to pass the paddle off while climbing back on shore. Here are my battle scars! Much better than wounds inflicted by bath tubs!
(I took pictures, but I think there's something wrong with the date on my camera or computer and they don't register on the card until not today.)
I have been kayaking before but never down as fast a river as the Sturgeon, in Indian River, Michigan. My sister had never really been kayaking at all. Kim, the cousin, was good.
Coming around the first corner, unprepared for the speed of the river, I watched as Kim made it around the next bend. I then watched as I slowly (quickly) approached a tree that had fallen and smacked into it. Now, it wasn't the tree that caused me to go in the cold water. It was me trying too hard to redirect myself, rather than just go and chance it. So in I went. I floated along on my kayak, clutching my oar and the cooler I somehow had decided I could take and trying to keep the camera my uncle had given me above water, until I could touch and get to the side to empty the water. Just as I flipped my boat over, here comes my sister right into the same tree. She falls out. The canoers help her out while I get re-situated. Off I go.
I round the next bend and what do I see but my sister in the water again and the canoe in a tree as my mom tries to leap out and save her. We start again, the canoe bringing up the rear, banking off of bank after bank.
Soon after lunch, two hours later, the trouble starts again. We must've gotten out of our groove (or flow, ha ha) because I hit a log and take in water. So I have to get out to empty my boat again. My sister makes it around my water-logged kayak and, just ahead, "stops" to wait. Except that she falls out (for the fourth time). And this time we're in some really fast water with no shallow spots. Oh yeah, and she loses her paddle.
We pull over to some fallen (felled?) trees and empty the boat there as best as we can. The canoers, who were well behind us, pass, (as do some rafters who had been stopped for lunch when we passed them 10 minutes before) and we yell to look for the paddle. Kim heads downstream on the shore. I go up, along the shore, through the woods. Catherine, the sister, who has already lost her shoes that day and can't really walk through the woods, stays with the boats. I spot the paddle. And let me tell you, it was a battle getting there and then crossing that river. I am to' up (at least it's not "toe" up). It's like I was attacked by a bear. I don't have just some scratches from a few sticks. It's like whole branches went into my arm and legs. Gouges everywhere. And a nice deep purple (and pretty) bruise covering my whole left knee from when I tripped over a log, trying to pass the paddle off while climbing back on shore. Here are my battle scars! Much better than wounds inflicted by bath tubs!
(I took pictures, but I think there's something wrong with the date on my camera or computer and they don't register on the card until not today.)
posted by Cheryl at
9:21 PM
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