A Super-Duper Adventure
Jul. 16th, 2018 11:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chase_acow
As part of my plan to escape this year’s holiday slog in December, I drove out to Arkansas for my mom’s birthday last month. She is not really an outgoing person, she’s got some other stuff going on, and she stays up late and sleeps a whole lot. I wasn’t that interested in waking up early to let the dog out and then sitting in the kitchen by myself. So I asked her if she wanted to go on a float trip, and three days later she replied to my text with a ‘sure’.
That wasn’t enthusiastic enough consent for me, so I shrugged and packed an extra book.
On day two of my my exile into the hot land where the air conditioner never turns on, there are no comfortable seats, and no real food, mom wanders in about noon, and says - “So, when are we going on the float trip?”
facepalm
But, okay. So I find a place. Easy trip, kids and dogs welcome, 4-6 hours for an 8 mile stretch. The start point was about 40 mins away. I thought, yeah this one. Granted, I don’t think I’ve been outside for a combined 4-6 hours since I started night shift in Feb. But I went and bought two new bottles of sunscreen.
So, the good news is, I didn’t get sunburnt.
The bad news is, I’m the proud owner of a roughly used, broken rental canoe.
Aw man, the dog - a hundred pound german shepherd - was in heaven the whole time. He loves swimming, but he didn’t mind sitting in the canoe. Though he did try my patience rocking us from side to side as he tried to drink ALL the water on this side, and then ALL the water on that side.
Mom, wasn’t much of a paddler, but I kept telling her not to bother. My previous experience of float trips, was nice slow currents, but if you paddled, you got finished in half the time. Still, when we stopped for lunch* at about three hours, she was getting tired, so we decided afterward to speed canoe our way out and go get some nachos and ice cream.
Up until that point, we’d basically figured out how to zigzag around the lake, navigated a low water bridge, hit 75% of the rocks and scraped over half a dozen pretty shallow shoals. I’m not saying we were overconfident, but we were definitely already tasting that mexican food when catastrophe struck. I’m still not sure what happened, and it’d be easy to blame the dog since he can’t defend himself, but as far as I could tell, we all leaned the wrong way, got dumped out, the canoe got waterlogged, but apparently slightly less than us cuz it started downstream.
I don’t know how I kept my glasses on, but out go the flotation pads, swoosh goes one of the paddles, and the canoe is pulling me along. I glanced back, and my mom is standing up (the water wasn’t even knee height, but boy was it moving) with the dog, so they’re both okay, if a little shell shocked. I turned around, remembering from the dozen or so times I’d been white water rafting, that I needed to keep my feet first in case there was a bigger rock - I’d rather be able to kick off it than go brain first.
I was so sure I’d be able to steer the canoe over to the bank, or just manage to dig my feet in, stand up and hold on to it. Sadly, there was one key piece of preparation I had declined to make. I hadn’t brought my crappy tennis shoes to wear, so I had my flip-flops on - well they had already broken, and of course when we tipped over, a lot of our stuff was instantly lost. I couldn’t for the life of me get my feet down to stand up or slow down the water-logged canoe. My feet hurt so much, while river stones might be smooth, they still f-ing hurt.
It was only a couple of seconds, and I was thirty feet away from my mom. I glanced back, and managed to get myself twisted being dragged by the canoe which was going in the opposite direction than I wanted, and sucked up some water. I thought, this is how stupid people drown and let go. Off goes the canoe where it eventually gets stuck in the middle of the twentyish foot wide river.
I flopped down, heavy enough not to move in the omghowisitgoingsofast water, and here comes my mom as fast as she can, because she was wearing shoes, asking me if i’m dizzy or nauseous. I say, no I didn’t hit my head, but that I might have lost a toe. So I fling up one foot and then the other so she can wipe the mud of, count my toes, and make sure I’m not bleeding. Seriously, so much pain.
About that time I think, hey where’s the dog. See, he’s not actually my dog, I was just sitting him for a couple of weeks, though I did raise him for five years. We both glance over, and up on the bank, this wonderful, dumb dog who loves sticks more than anything has found the biggest stick he could carry . . . a six foot dead tree. He’s not holding it in the middle, so he’s sorta drunkenly listing to the side as he is proudly carrying his find back to us. I’m talking tail and ears up, prancing proud.
My mom, with absolutely zero forethought turns her head and yells at him WOULD YOU GET SOME PERSPECTIVE, PLEASE!?!**
Listen, I have never laughed so hard, neither at the time nor on the numerous retellings of this story.
Long story short:
My mom was a trooper, hiked down the beach, hiked back, swam across, climbed a muddy incline, wound up in somebody’s backyard and pathetically asked to use the phone.
My dog was a goober who heroically wouldn’t leavethe stick me behind, failed to jump up in the back of the rescue pickup and had to be boosted like the overweight, geriatric city dog he is.
I, covered in mud, and swearing to never get in a boat without shoes again, came up with a convincing lie to tell me grandma so she wouldn’t murder us upon our heroic return from adventure.
* I found the best place for lunch. We were both getting a little hangry, so we really just wanted some shade due to our fear of that big burning thing in the sky. Then I saw a foundation for a house and we got out thinking if nothing else, we could sit on some of the concrete and stretch out our backs. But I saw a rutted road, and thought I’d follow if for a minute and BAM picnic table! I’m the lunch MVP!
** There will be tshirts made.
That wasn’t enthusiastic enough consent for me, so I shrugged and packed an extra book.
On day two of my my exile into the hot land where the air conditioner never turns on, there are no comfortable seats, and no real food, mom wanders in about noon, and says - “So, when are we going on the float trip?”
facepalm
But, okay. So I find a place. Easy trip, kids and dogs welcome, 4-6 hours for an 8 mile stretch. The start point was about 40 mins away. I thought, yeah this one. Granted, I don’t think I’ve been outside for a combined 4-6 hours since I started night shift in Feb. But I went and bought two new bottles of sunscreen.
So, the good news is, I didn’t get sunburnt.
The bad news is, I’m the proud owner of a roughly used, broken rental canoe.
Aw man, the dog - a hundred pound german shepherd - was in heaven the whole time. He loves swimming, but he didn’t mind sitting in the canoe. Though he did try my patience rocking us from side to side as he tried to drink ALL the water on this side, and then ALL the water on that side.
Mom, wasn’t much of a paddler, but I kept telling her not to bother. My previous experience of float trips, was nice slow currents, but if you paddled, you got finished in half the time. Still, when we stopped for lunch* at about three hours, she was getting tired, so we decided afterward to speed canoe our way out and go get some nachos and ice cream.
Up until that point, we’d basically figured out how to zigzag around the lake, navigated a low water bridge, hit 75% of the rocks and scraped over half a dozen pretty shallow shoals. I’m not saying we were overconfident, but we were definitely already tasting that mexican food when catastrophe struck. I’m still not sure what happened, and it’d be easy to blame the dog since he can’t defend himself, but as far as I could tell, we all leaned the wrong way, got dumped out, the canoe got waterlogged, but apparently slightly less than us cuz it started downstream.
I don’t know how I kept my glasses on, but out go the flotation pads, swoosh goes one of the paddles, and the canoe is pulling me along. I glanced back, and my mom is standing up (the water wasn’t even knee height, but boy was it moving) with the dog, so they’re both okay, if a little shell shocked. I turned around, remembering from the dozen or so times I’d been white water rafting, that I needed to keep my feet first in case there was a bigger rock - I’d rather be able to kick off it than go brain first.
I was so sure I’d be able to steer the canoe over to the bank, or just manage to dig my feet in, stand up and hold on to it. Sadly, there was one key piece of preparation I had declined to make. I hadn’t brought my crappy tennis shoes to wear, so I had my flip-flops on - well they had already broken, and of course when we tipped over, a lot of our stuff was instantly lost. I couldn’t for the life of me get my feet down to stand up or slow down the water-logged canoe. My feet hurt so much, while river stones might be smooth, they still f-ing hurt.
It was only a couple of seconds, and I was thirty feet away from my mom. I glanced back, and managed to get myself twisted being dragged by the canoe which was going in the opposite direction than I wanted, and sucked up some water. I thought, this is how stupid people drown and let go. Off goes the canoe where it eventually gets stuck in the middle of the twentyish foot wide river.
I flopped down, heavy enough not to move in the omghowisitgoingsofast water, and here comes my mom as fast as she can, because she was wearing shoes, asking me if i’m dizzy or nauseous. I say, no I didn’t hit my head, but that I might have lost a toe. So I fling up one foot and then the other so she can wipe the mud of, count my toes, and make sure I’m not bleeding. Seriously, so much pain.
About that time I think, hey where’s the dog. See, he’s not actually my dog, I was just sitting him for a couple of weeks, though I did raise him for five years. We both glance over, and up on the bank, this wonderful, dumb dog who loves sticks more than anything has found the biggest stick he could carry . . . a six foot dead tree. He’s not holding it in the middle, so he’s sorta drunkenly listing to the side as he is proudly carrying his find back to us. I’m talking tail and ears up, prancing proud.
My mom, with absolutely zero forethought turns her head and yells at him WOULD YOU GET SOME PERSPECTIVE, PLEASE!?!**
Listen, I have never laughed so hard, neither at the time nor on the numerous retellings of this story.
Long story short:
My mom was a trooper, hiked down the beach, hiked back, swam across, climbed a muddy incline, wound up in somebody’s backyard and pathetically asked to use the phone.
My dog was a goober who heroically wouldn’t leave
I, covered in mud, and swearing to never get in a boat without shoes again, came up with a convincing lie to tell me grandma so she wouldn’t murder us upon our heroic return from adventure.
* I found the best place for lunch. We were both getting a little hangry, so we really just wanted some shade due to our fear of that big burning thing in the sky. Then I saw a foundation for a house and we got out thinking if nothing else, we could sit on some of the concrete and stretch out our backs. But I saw a rutted road, and thought I’d follow if for a minute and BAM picnic table! I’m the lunch MVP!
** There will be tshirts made.
no subject
Date: 2018-07-16 05:29 pm (UTC)I'm sorry to admit I laughed while reading this - mostly because if I were to embark on a similar venture, I'm positive this is exactly what would happen to me
no subject
Date: 2018-07-16 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-07-18 09:06 am (UTC)I went straight back to work and told everyone. If my stupid luck can make someone laugh, then it's worth it!
no subject
Date: 2018-07-18 09:12 am (UTC)