Dave,I got stalled here at work- did you head up there? I'm chompin at the bit and can leave Auburn at 1:35. Really want to get on some highwater and the Middle Middle is close.

Anyone else wanna rally? Call me.

jP
941-445-1638

whoops. Aint got no headlamp. Better paddle fast. Good thing I got a Diablo n some water

Now, I'm not a frequent attendee of the MM. Usually its either too low for my liking or, when flows are suitably good, other stuff is running that normally isn't. So I'm not overly familiar with it and conseuently gave the larger features a wide berth. That and the encroaching dusk required that I make haste. I was sorry to pass more than a few nice large surf waves with decent foam piles.

Now before you leave this "page" shaking your head thinking "there goes another thread dedicated to one of jP's monologues", I would implore you to see the nuances escribed herein, to read further. Mine is no mere monologue. No! Monologues are for supr villains, of which I am not. Tragic hero in this case, perhaps. Regardless, mine is a soliloquy. The soloilquy of the lonely kayaker committed to making his way through the romantic adventure of the November Night in the Pacific Northwest!

It is not yet dark when the lone kayaker trods onto SE 140th, when the State Highway Patrol car turns onto the same road alongside him. The officer does not stop, yet his mere appearance serves as a catalyst for the kayaker's previously mentioned active mind:

Good Lord! There's one of them kayakers. What brings these guys out in this miserable weather? Rivers are pretty swift about now, too. Reminds me of this friend I got who's also on the force- he's a Snohomish county Sheriff. Anyway once he told me about this kayaker he got a call on- I believe it was October of 2006.
Sheriff was helping out the fire dept. and search and rescue that day. Sultan was flooded, and thr Skykomish was about as high as he remembered it being. Someone phoned in a 911 call about on of them crazy kayakers who was enough of an idiot to get on the Skykomish. Ha ha, you should hear my buddy tell the story. He said all them search n rescue guys were pissed that so many people downstream had legitimate problems- whole ranches and farms being flooded out, you name it. And here's this punk kid goin an runnin that river ON PURPOSE. Makes me chuckle to think about it to this day. By the time my buddy showed up the guy was in his truck dry. I guess he managed to drag his sorry ass out of the river. My buddy does a lot of fish'n along that stretch n don't like them kayakers anyhow, so he dragged the kid out of his truck and hand cuffed him- made him stand on the pavement in the rain in his bare feet till he wuz shiver'n! That oughtta learn 'em, make an example outta him.
   Search and Rescue wouldn't let him go after his kayak neither. It was a red kayak, as I recall.
   Kayakers, I just don't understand him. What's this guy doin walkin up into the woods at dusk? I guess he ain't hurt'n nobody...

The kayaker watches as the patrol car fades into the deepening grey tones of the soggy dusk.

The kayaker trods up SE Middle Fork Rd. It's a thick inky black now, held at bay only briefly by the wide array of orange and white lights of the school. The kayaker turns to face the next beam of headlights that emerge behind him, thumb presented in an unwaivering gesture of hope, yet muted by a measure of callous indifference.

The small, white compact car sticks out in contrast to the deeply forested setting, no longer emersed in the urban world, yet still cloaked in ubiquity as it procedes into the woods. Its driver just wants to get home. Its been a long day and yet the days are so short... She slows down with good intentions when she sees the sillohete of someone walking, yet uncertainty prevails. She'd like to help someone out, but picking up hitch hikers just seems unsafe. As her headlights sweep across the man she sees it is a white river rafter or kayaker or whatever- there's this guy at the hospital where she works who does white river kayaking, and he's kinda hot.
   But on closer examination she sees this kayaker guy and the uncertainty returns: he's got a goatee and facial hair that mildly conotes "axe murderer", or at least "Creepy Van Guy". I bet he's got a creepy van. I mean, I know he's a kayaker and the nurse I work with is one too and he seems really nice, but... I can't. I just can't. She applies slow and gentle foot pressure to the accelerater as if it could convey an appology of sorts, and the small white car is swallowed up by the Snoqualmie shadows.

Edited by jP - 23 Nov 2011 at 10:22pm

Leaving the well lit oasis of the school zone behind, the kayaker continues his now mundane journey up into the enveloping darkness, still quite warm, if not exactly dry in his odd apparel.

Along zooms the inevitable fine SUV, gleeming in the cleansing rains of the night. The quaint squabble of its occupants regarding the logistics of tomorrow night's Thanksgiving meal was interupted by the hitch hiker clad in whitewater gear.
   "Is that man kayaking out in this weather?" She asked, almost appalled by the notion.
The man shrugged, hand still on the wheel. Best not to say anything.
   "Isn't the river EXTREMELY HIGH right now?"
Again he exhibited a subtle, non confrontational shrug.
   "He must be one of those Extreme Kayakers"
The man's left eyebrow imperceptively raised, careful not to betray the emotions he could barely himself detect.
    "Seems quite Dangerous! What a dreadful night to be out in this weather!"
     But the man scanned the individual as they passed by, pondering the words of his wife and what they might mean beyond her conjecture. That guy outside in the rain- pursuing some direct relationship with the wild elements of the Pacific Northwest. The freedom and independence of answering only to the laws of nature...
About 300 yards ahead of the rejected hitch hiker, the man put on the left blinker to signal the impending turn into the collection of riverside estates where the couple lived. This communication explicitly intended to say: "we are only going this far." Or, if the man was even conscious of his desire for something different, if he was even aware of his own deep seated yearnimg to feel something more-adventure perhaps, the activation of his turn signal might be interpreted as: "sorry, if I was driving alone, I'd give you a ride back up to your car"

But the kayaker was not surprised, and perhaps even imdifferent as he continued up the road.

As the final density of well lit driveways and homes receded into distance behind him, and the canopy of trees all but enclosed the road in darkness, bright lights once again pierced the night.

Turning to face another oncoming opportunity for either swift delivery or dissappointment, the kayaker evaluated a tightly packed array of many lights. The appraoching motor spoke of the authenticity of a truck that truly seemed to belong in this moment. And somehow, the walker knew his walking may be finished for the evening.
The Truck was well kept, large and clean as it slowed to a stop. The kayaker peered through the window to see a guy wearing a smile as if to say "Well? What are you waiting for? Climb on in!"

His apologies about being wet were casually swept aside as he climbed up into the cab and sat on the vinyl hunter-camo ala Cabella's upholstry. Some music was playing on the stereo:
"God is great, n Beer is good, n People are crazy"
   -well ok not really I made that up, to add to my already fictionalized account as seen from everyone else. But the guy was genuinely nice-
   We talked about the river and how high it was, He told me about how he rafts it at low water in the summer as he pointed out his house and drove past it to take me up to my van. I commended him for running the river that is almost litterally in his backyard. He knew House Rocks must be a "Strong IV" at this flow and described the line one generally takes through there for a clean run. I confirmed it as a IV, in fact pointing out that the whole run is mote weighted toward class IV at this flow, but mostly for its power and speed. That any boatet in a decked boat with a solid roll could still find class III lines all the way down with the exception of House Rocks and a few other large holes throughout that are best avoided...
   Back up at the van we wished each other a happy Thanksgiving and I gave him huge thanks for saving me at least two thirds of the walk in the end.

So tomorrow, when I sit down to grub, I'm going to include all the people who pick us up while we are hitch hiking as an extension of our paddling adventures. Those fictionalized vignettes I portrayed are just representative of some of the archetypes I imagine while I am out thumbing a shuttle.

Mostly I am just playing with this medium- the "novel-thread".

Now- who's boat'n tomorrow?

Entertaining as always JP, thanks for sharing.

I'm waiting for the audio version.

Hilarious!

Made my day!

right on... happy thanksgiving