Monday, June 16, 2003

Maybe at this point we should cue up “Dueling Banjoes” from the movie “Deliverance.” Or maybe we should first go back to earlier in the day when we first met up with The Country Club couple. Now you may ask yourself how they got such a moniker. Well, to that I could only say WHO THE HELL SHOWS UP FOR A CANOE TRIP DRESSED IN POLO SHIRTS AND EXPENSIVE SLACKS LIKE THEY WERE GOIN’ TO SOME FRIGGIN’ GOLF OUTING? I trust that deals with the name issue. I somehow knew that they would be Bad News. They had that look and smell of people who should be taken out and given fierce beatings with rubber hoses and wolverines. Even Fearless Leader knew it. He said, “I know who the Trouble-Makers are and I’ve got my eye on Them.”   Mercifully, the paddle down to our lunch spot had been free of all contact with them. Oh there had been the first sighting of the Bickering Couple, but that had been more of an occasion for laughs at the expense of others. I had never seen a canoe upside down underwater under a log before. I could only wonder what Idiotic Set Of Circumstances had gotten it there and what Cruel Twist Of Fate caused them to continue on the journey after what could only have been for them a Stupid And Hellish Experience.   Anyway, I digress. After shoving off from lunch we continued down to the next pull-out where I dropped off my companion and his kid, I continued on in peaceful solitude and bliss along the river, shaded by the trees overhead. By now everybody was pretty much spread out along the river and it was almost like I was the only person within a thousand miles.   My moment of Zen was broken when I came around a bend and the river narrowed suddenly. The speed of the current picked up and combined with the angle of the bend the canoe began to accelerate. That was no problem for me. Not yet.   Up ahead was the Country Club Couple. They were stranded near the bank on the inside of the turn where a tree trunk had fallen over into the river. Although the trunk had fallen some time ago they had somehow managed to wedge the center of their canoe under it. They were separated by the trunk with the wood pressing against the man’s waist as the current tried to push the canoe down river. I was now past their position and I shouted back asking if they were alright. From their shouts they were obviously in distress. So I paddled back against the current to them. I didn’t know how far down the river the next canoe was and I thought I could “talk” Country Club Husband into climbing over the branch to the bow where Country Club Wife sat allowing the canoe to pass under the trunk. The water wasn’t that deep there so if he fell he’d be able to stand up.   It soon became clear to me when Country Club Husband grabbed the gunwale of my canoe in a death grip that I was dealing with the worst kind of inexperienced canoeist. One that didn’t want to get his clothes wet. I yelled at him to let go and climb over the log. He didn’t respond at all. I started screaming in his ear to let go of the canoe. The current had now pushed the bow of my canoe dangerously close to getting tangled in the branches. In order to keep away I had to push off with my paddle. Combined with his grip on my stern this resulted in my canoe now acting as a dam to the oncoming water. In my youth I would have pistol whipped the sonofabitch and just moved on or at least smacked him across the back of the head with a paddle. But alas, I have now eschewed violence as sport and the new plastic paddles don’t have the same old satisfying sound hitting the back of someone’s skull as the old wooden ones do (as Clint Eastwood said in Pale Rider, “there’s nothing like a good piece of hickory”). Water was now inundating my canoe and I shouted one last time for the Fathead to let go. The next thing I knew the canoe was swamped and floated out from under me heading down river. I headed after it. “F**k him” I thought.   By the time I got to my canoe it was now capsized and the water was too deep to do anything. I figured I could right the canoe and sit in it (yes they are still buoyant enough to not sink to the bottom) and ride out the situation until conditions were more manageable. Well, I got in front of the canoe to slow it down and managed to flip it and get in. As I turned around I saw something around the bend I hadn’t counted on, a wrecked beaver dam. The canoe slammed into it dumping me and turning back over while going under the wreckage of the dam. I ended up having to wait until the next canoe came along because the current was too strong to do anything here without assistance. Two other canoeists and I finally got it out after I yelled to them to take care of Country Club Couple first since my situation was stable.   The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful, that’s if you think solitude in some of the east coast’s most beautiful scenery was uneventful. I finally made it to the pull-out where our transportation awaited. A few minutes later Fearless Leader came up and pulled out. He was soaked too. Apparently he had met up with the Bickering Couple. You’d think that Country Club Couple would’ve said “thanks” or “sorry” or “hey dumbass.” Nope. Nothing. Fearless Leader and I eyed each other knowingly. Silently we had just formed the local chapter of The Too Much Fun Club.   I was a great day. After being cooped up in an office I had never felt as alive as I did trying to live by my wits when the canoe sank. None of my stuff was lost because it was firmly lashed in the canoe and things that had to stay dry were in a dry bag (I remember seeing bickering couple’s plastic grocery bag floating past the beaver dam though). And so ends or maybe begins the story of The Too Much Fun Club. What’s the lesson boys and girls? Well, I guess it’s that Professionals should not mix with Amateurs. If you’re not a Professional, you’re an Amateur. And after all, we are all Professionals. At least in The Too Much Fun Club.   File under No Good Deed Goes Unpunished or, if you wish The Great Outdoors. 9:14:43 PM