Forever Paisley

This past weekend, after celebrating Ethan’s belated birthday in the city, it was off to Wenatchee for a weekend of river running, beer drinking and fireside chatting.  On Friday night, aware of my tendency to sleep in, I set eight alarms (yes, eight) and hired Megan to call me at 8:30AM, just in case all else failed.  In a slightly tipsy state I packed up my bags, deciding that my purple thermals matched perfectly with my red Norwegian sweater and hauled my ass to bed.  When Megan called at 8:30AM on Saturday morning I was already zipping up my Osprey and preparing Rubin for his upcoming stay with Uncle Sammy.  Success.

The drive to Wenatchee was just what I needed that Saturday morning.  I digested a crazy week at work, reflected on past experiences as I drove by exit 20B and blasted 95.7KJRFM as I wound through the passes.  5 miles from Cashmere and I got a call from Brian.  He was guiding that morning and running a bit late.  No biggie.  I used my time productively, ran to Home Depot and purchased new switchplates.  That took me all of 30 minutes, so I took advantage of the situation and took a quick riverside nap.

When Brian and I rolled up to “Phil’s”, base camp for Professor Paddle Ball 2010, the water was cold, the PBR was warm and the vibe was just right.  I had just enough time to plant my new backpacking tent into the ground for the first time and gulp down a domestic brew before we geared up for the Wenatchee.  When it came time to roll, Brian lent me some pretty sexy pants with a hole in the ass setting me up for a breezy weekend with its fair share of off the cuff jokes.  Use your inappropriate imagination.  After finishing the remaining spiddle in our beer cans we grabbed our paddles, buckled our PFD’s and trekked down to the put in.  I have rafted with Brian before.  He’s been a great guide, setting up worst case scenarios and coaching me through hypothetical situations.  Well somehow we missed one.  What happens when your guide goes swimming?  Part way down the river we stopped at Turkey Shoot and Brian set us up for what was intended to be a team surfing session.  Right when the boat was positioned appropriately, Brian leaned a bit too far and, boop, he was out.  I was left to surf the wave solo as he floated down the river.  Second time in a raft.  First time in a raft alone.  Friend floating down river.  Water’s cold.  I have no fucking clue what I am doing.  Not optimal, but as it turns out … manageable.  Somehow I was able to break free of the wave and paddle myself and “Patches” (the boat) over to Brian, allowing us to finish the rest of the run as a team.  Phew.  Crisis averted.

Such an occassion called for a cheesy spaghetti dinner over the camp stove and some fireside relaxation.  After all, we had some time before we had to gear up again for the midnight run.  The next couple of hours were spent warming near the fire, auctioning off gear to support Matt Thomas (a local kayaker who is battling a spinal injury) and sipping on river cold kegs.  Come 11:00PM it was time to get moving.  We returned to camp, layered up while singing “Mercedes Benz” and pumped ourselves up for what turned out to be a pretty unpredictable ride.  The events of the coming hours could not possibly be described without the use of facial expressions, hand gestures and sound effects.  Let’s just say paddles went missing, rafters went swimming, Patches went island hopping and we all walked away smiling.  It was an epic midnight run.

The rest of the weekend was spent collecting ourselves and Brian’s lost gear, with a few casual runs and some quality time near the fire.  As 8:00PM on Sunday evening rolled around I had a hearty Mexican meal resting in my stomach, I was exhausted from the night before and quite honestly, I just wasn’t ready to leave the woods.  In the end I decided that a dark drive through the passes was not in my best interest that evening.   I wanted to embrace my dirty feet, dreaded hair and the “summer” taste in my mouth.  I had already torn down my tent, but as my eyelids grew heavier the backseat of the Jetta was looking really comfortable.  Comfortable it was.

When I woke at 7AM the next morning all I had to do was slip on my moccasins and turn the ignition.  With an 11AM meeting on the horizon I knew I was cutting it short, but definitely didn’t regret an extra night under the stars (errr in the Jetta).  When I arrived back in Seattle I even had enough time to shower up, remove my dreads and hang out with Rubin before hiking to work.  Monday, Monday … from the woods, to the corporate office.  Well it’s like I always say … I am a Libra.  My scale is balanced.  The weights on either side just happen to be pretty damn heavy.  I have no problem with that, I’ll take.   Next order of business backpacking in Eastern Washington with the Green Machine.

Day 9,353.  Looking forward to 9,354.  Happy almost Friday everyone.

Cherrettie