You guys on the float?

Yesterday, Rob and Elise came over early in the morning (read: 10:45) to head for the Sandy River. There, we would be met by Tucker and Carl, and everybody but me would float several miles down the river on inflatable boats. Jonathan was supposed to come along and hang out on the shore with me, but he had been out partying too late the night before. Faced with the prospect of several hours alone on a deserted beach, I reluctantly decided to come along. See, bodies of water frighten me when they are fast-moving and/or deeper than my waist. Has to do with almost drowning in the Mediterranean Sea when I was 14. Since I narrowly escaped the water ghouls, I am convinced they are hell-bent on getting another crack at me. I usually prefer not to tempt them.

Once we arrived at Oxbow Park, the boys went off to inflate the boat and wait for the rest of our party. When they returned, Elise and I were nowhere to be found. Rob assumed we'd gone off with some menfolk who had a better boat, but then they found us nestled comfortably in the car and enjoying a feast of fresh fruit. There may or may not have been accusations of setting the movement back 30 years. Fortunately, that was the moment Carl, Tucker, and Diego showed up. Bobby and Rob went to help them inflate their boat, and Elise and I were off the hook.



Bobby assured me I would not meet watery doom, as the Sandy is about as low on the danger scale as a swimming pool. Into the boat I went. There were a few worrisome parts initially, as Bobby and Rob got their communication down and we went over some minor rapids. I may have squealed in terror a few times while seated on the edge of the boat. Things got better when I figured out I could nestle in on a cushion and let my feet hang over the edge.



We floated quite a ways down the river and paused on a beach to rest a bit. We were on a quest for a corkscrew, as Elise had brought bottles of lambic that we were trying desperately to open. When a group of other travelers appeared on the beach, we asked if they happened to have a corkscrew. They did not, and one of them asked, "You guys on the float?" Rob thought this was so incredibly funny that he kept repeating it all day. The river is littered with bros just like anywhere else would be. Back into the water we went. Whenever we passed another group, Diego would yell "does anybody have a corkscrew?" He actually found us a guy with a Swiss army knife, and Elise and I got our lambics after all. Tucker took the same approach I did, and decided to stretch out comfortably while other folks handled the rowing:



Obviously I got far more photos of the other boat, because it was hard to find a decent angle on ours. I'm not sure what's going on here, but it looks collaborative.



When we got close to the other boat, we would trade snacks. The boys offered to toss over a granola bar for Rob and Elise, but it missed the connection and landed in the water. There was a combined effort from both boats to fish it out of the water:



Finally, Bobby was victorious!



Alas, the rescued granola bar contained milk, and therefore could not be enjoyed by Rob or Elise, who are vegans.



No matter. Onward down the river!



Carl left his boat to go snorkeling for a while. I wish I had a photo of this. The river isn't that warm, and the water is too murky to see much. We did find (and harass) a crawfish that was hanging out on the shore, and we saw many types of ducks swimming along. Nature!

We hit a few more sets of rapids, and Rob and Carl switched boats for a while. The day stretched on for hours as we drifted ever northward toward Rob and Elise's waiting car. By the time we reached Dabney Park, the sun had retreated behind the treeline and things got a little chilly.



The entire trip was about 11 miles, and took us somewhere between six and seven hours. Next time I think we'll go for the shorter route of Oxbow Park to Dabney. For the curious, here is a map of our route:


View River trip! in a larger map

Once we made it back to Oxbow to collect our cars, then returned to Lewis and Clark to load up the gear, the sun had almost set. I was due at Blow Pony around 9:30, but I had to decline. All those hours in the sun gave me a massive headache, and all I wanted to do was go to Burgerville and then go crash out on the couch. Dancing sounded like the furthest thing from fun, much to the disappointment of my usual BP companions. There's always next month!

All in all, my inaugural boat trip was fun, and Bobby was thrilled to hear I'd be willing to go again. I only look a little bit terrified: