You’re all going to be very disappointed in me, because I went on that rafting trip I was freaking out about last month and…
I didn’t take a single picture.
Not one.
That’s the bad news out of the way. Phew!
The good news is that I learned an awful lot on this trip. Allow me to share some of those lessons (and, if you’re very curious about the scenery on the Green River, you could always check out Google images and search for things like Gates of Lodore, Hells Half Mile on Green River, Split Mountain, that sort of thing).
– If you are going to spend five days outside, and have to share the sunscreen with another person, TAKE EXTRA. Clint and I bought one can of the spray-on sunscreen, and it was gone on the third day. We borrowed sunscreen once, but that didn’t keep either of us from being cooked on Saturday and Sunday. In fact, my face is blistering and falling off as we speak. There’s that song by Baz Lurhmann, in which he strongly advises wearing sunscreen.
Do it.
– I have a little boat all my own, a ducky, which is pretty much an inflatable kayak of sorts. This trip was only the second time I’ve gotten to use it, and the first time was on a calm lake. This means I had basically no idea what I was doing when we set out…not that it was terribly difficult to figure out, once I was in it and paddling along, but in a ducky, you sit awfully low on the water compared to other boats. And when you sit low on the water, every little ripple looks bigger than it is.
I went through one named rapid in it. I did great, according to on-lookers, and all of those on-lookers have been running their boats far longer than me, so it was a pretty major compliment. However, it was a pretty…tame…rapid. On the third day, I went through a rapid that wasn’t even an actual stinking rapid and got turned sideways (not a good idea in a ducky, as they are apt to fill with water and flip over) and scared the daylights out of myself.
Lesson here? It’s actually pretty easy to find a passenger from one of the boats to take over the running of a ducky. I rode on Clint’s boat for most of the last two days. I didn’t have to do anything but hold on and try to keep my burning arms out of the sun.
– I. Hate. Sand. Sand in my shoes, sand in my clothes, sand in the tent, sand on my pillow, sand in my sleeping bag, sand in my mouth and eyes and food and in my chair. I HATE SAND. I hate trudging uphill in the sand to carry gear, I hate trudging downhill in sand to carry gear, I hate trudging through sand to get to the groover (toilet), I hate trudging through sand to get to the coffee, I hate SAND. HATE IT!
I guess I’ll never be a beach babe…or bum…whatever. #@*! SAND!
– Bumble bees are attracted to white baseball caps. I don’t know if they think maybe it’s a flower, or if I just smelled so lovely they couldn’t help themselves, or what. When I put on my hat (to hide my bad hair, of course) the giant bumble bees flocked to my head. Every stinking time. And do you know what I’m most afraid of?
Bees.
I’m sure the rest of the group got a kick out of watching me flail around every time a bee got within ten feet of me.
– Strawberry moonshine…keep it away from me.
– Dry bags only remain DRY bags if you close them properly. Also, dry bags develop a ‘camping funk’ inside no matter how well you separate dirty clothes from clean ones.
– Big horn sheep are super cool to see, but not when they are walking directly at you. Well, no, it’s still pretty cool, but not knowing if they are considering ramming you or if they are just trying to cross the beach…that’s a little unnerving.
…even if their horns are pretty small. I mean, horns are horns are horns, right?
– An up-river wind is the devil.
– There is such a thing as an unknown animal making such a horrible noise for hours on end that every person in camp is plotting how to hunt it down and put it out of commission. Permanently. After the first hour or two, talk of camouflage and sharp knives and guns begins…or maybe that was just the beer and moonshine and whiskey talking.
– Secret smokers pop out of the woodwork on long trips like this. More specifically, Clint and I thought we were the only smokers on the trip, so we brought just enough cigarettes for ourselves, assuming nobody would be running out of their own and bumming off of us. The last night, however, someone ran out of their chew. Amazing how smoking was suddenly less revolting to him.
– Five days was too long to be away from my kiddo. Maybe when he’s older and mouthier I wouldn’t mind going so much, but it was pretty hard not seeing his smiling baby face every day.
– If you make your husband really, really mad right as you get off the river for the last time, he’s likely to leave you to ride home with strange people all by yourself. And those strange people might be an elderly couple who blast the air conditioning until you’re shivering (thanks to the sunburn), and if you’re really lucky, you won’t be able to find ANYTHING to talk to them about for the entire two or so hour drive.
Don’t make your husband really, really mad.
– If your mother-in-law won’t:
Baby-sit for five days
House-sit for five days
Water the yard and garden for five days
Clean your house
Clean up the yard (sticks and weeds and leaves and junk)
…then you should trade her in. For MY mother-in-law. Except, I’m keeping her, so you’re out of luck.
And now my kiddo is up from his morning nap, so I’ve got to make up for five days of no baby smiles.
Cristen's Corner 