ANOTHER FINE MESS YOU'VE GOTTEN US SKUNKS INTO, WAYNE

As all may or may not know a primary goal of the generally disorganized and goalless SKUNKs is to engage in travel, trips and ADVENTURES in a general spirit of camaraderie and discomfort. That is any SKUNK may simply proclaim something to the effect that" I want to do this, whatever "this" may be. I will be at a "this" location, on "this" date, at "this" time and any who/whom may be foolish enough to join me are welcome. After all misery loves company.

In keeping with the SKUNK Official Spirit (SOS for short), Wayne, founder and only member of the West Central Wisconsin SKUNK Chapter, planned an "event" to which, Dear Reader, this writer unfortunately responded. A WHITEWATER RAFTING EVENT, planned to occur shortly after the spring break up when the waters were running cold and high.

  Sitting in front of a cozy wood fire, somewhat  housebound in mid-January, this seemed like a good idea at the time (as so many do without the perspective of hindsight.) and thus "signed on". After all, with proper (read warm) equipment, in a BIG 6 or 8 person rubber raft captained by a professional river guide what could go wrong?????

After all with 5 or 7 other paddlers I could continue my goal of not being responsible for myself and whatever might happen would not be my responsibility or fault. After all, it was Jerry who got this gullible, easily influenced, easily led, poor but honest motorbiker into long distance traveling through all kinds of weather, thick and thin, mostly thick. It was Uptown who led me astray into the world of sidecardom and Sheldon who/whom is responsible for this site. Life was good -fun with no responsibilities!!!!!

Several days before the launch Wayne called to say that the River People had called to inform him that as a result of Global Warming and a resultant lack of rainfall the river was not running "high enough" for the wide, broad, stable, multiple person rubber rafts

-BUT-

we could travel in individual, inflatable "Funyaks", a misnomer, we were to learn, if there ever was one. The only thought that, all too briefly, crossed my mind, when agreeing to this change was that, despite my best efforts I would have to, after all be responsible for myself - bummer!!!

Oh well, no big problem, after it is all downhill from the launch, so onward to

ADVENTURE!!!

No, not yet Wayne, you are only in the bus. You don't have to hold on so tight yet. No, not yet Wayne, but  soon Wayne, soon.

Yes Wayne. Yes it is wet, yes it is cold. Yes Wayne it is a fast flowing Wisconsin river, the longest stretch of whitewater in the Midwest. Yes it is spring in northern Wisconsin, yes there is still ice lining the shore in some places. Yes Wayne, I am a fool for listening to you.

Two hardy river drivers. Wayne please watch your paddle, don't swing it around so much, Wayne  You might hurt somebody Wayne !!!  OUCH !!!
  .

The paddle goes in the water, Wayne!! In the water!!!

A placid slow moving stream, relaxing beneath the eagles soaring and circling overhead -- or -- could they be vultures?? Ahead, on the horizon are what appear to be ROCKS and just beyond, the river seems to disappear. Perhaps old Chris C. was wrong after all and there IS an EDGE.

Safe and dry. Wasn't so bad, probably didn't' have to bring a change of dry clothes along after all. Wonder why these Funyaks prominently advertise "self bailing" features?

The picture above of two dry intrepid paddlers, or as the case may unfortunately be, "piddlers". We had reached the end of "placidity" during which we had spent an hour or so running a bunch of Class 1 rapids or "riffles" when we encountered a Class 3 and proceeded to  "over the edge". This we did with ease and aplomb.  It was similar to one of the chutes on the Brule, which one encounters when canoeing from "The Stone Bridge" to Hiway 2.

(As a total aside, the first time I did the Brule was when chaperoning a group of foreign students on their first canoe experience. Some appeared in 3 piece suits, complete with tie, patent leather shoes, and  as the trip began, sang full voiced chants of their native countries, as they learned to paddle a canoe. All this to the great pleasure of all the trout fishermen in waders, who had flown in from all parts of the country to fish the famous Brule, on the opening day of trout season. As the canoe paddlers were learning the art they only broadsided and knocked down 4 of the fisherman in waders as they proceeded. But the details of that day tis another story.)

The similarity of the "chutes", besides both being Class 3,  is that after running each, one may pull out, portage back upstream and run them again. This we proceed to do, which in retrospect was both a major error but yet a blessing in disguise.

We carried the "Funyaks", have I mentioned that this tis the name of our sturdy? crafts?, up stream to the head of the rapids and prepared to run them again. In preparation it seemed prudent to lighten the load and proceeded to empty our bladders. Not those of the Funyak, but our own personal ones. Here, gentle reader, this recounting of events becomes a bit risqué. I piddled in the woods, near the mossy base of a tree. Wayne, however, Troll that he is, pissed on the river which had the unfortunate consequence of "pissing off" the river gods and goddesses. Wouldn't you be "pissed off" if you had just been "pissed on"?

Wayne launched first and I watched as he reached the brink of the ledge, and, as he was going over, turned bottom side up. When I clambered, as fast as possible, over the small but rocky ridge to the bottom of the chute I beheld the guide had flang the life line to Wayne but it had gotten hung up in a tree. Wayne's Funyak was visible, wedged in rocks in an eddy below the chute, but Wayne was not in sight!!! 

WHERE IS HE????

Moving slowly and watching foot placement (we didn't need a broken leg as a result of a misstep on rough ground, and the Funyak booties are not made for rock climbing as the bruised soles of ones feet attest to today), when I next looked up I saw Wayne wedged against his Funyak (?), laying quite still in the water! I couldn't tell if he was face up or down!!! But immediately thought , "3 minutes have certainly passed - can't easily get to him in the middle of rapids - neurons may be dying if face down". Tried to hurry more but guide about 20 feet ahead yelled that he saw Wayne breathing. When looked up again guide was with Wayne and Wayne was sitting up, at least sitting up as much as possible in the middle of a raging river. OK - still not knowing Wayne's status it was obvious that if I joined the two of them there would be 3 of us in the middle of the river for some, as of yet, unknown purpose. Seemed best to backtrack, retrieve life line and use it to help establish a "bridge" to shore if Wayne were injured. Did so, but Wayne had recovered breath and both he and guide made it to shore OK, but winded.

After a bit of a rest, being the good hearted guy that I am I offered Wayne a chance to run the rapids a third time so as to bring my Funyak through. After all he might get it right this time. Wayne declined and I had to bring my craft through, which I did. Capsizing half way through, following the precedent set by Wayne. I did say I am easily led, didn't I?

Well the score was now tied 3 and 3. We had both wiped out, once on a Class 3 rapids. Given that we had run them the first time successfully, it was quite evident that the only thing that had changed was that Wayne has pissed on and thusly pissed off the river spirits. They are angry, very angry and we were just beginning the "challenging" part of the trip. Also, trying not to think about it, Wayne's excretions were flowing downstream with us in their midst.   

We got no pictures of these escapades, given other priorities.

Shortly, we came to a Class 2 area of the river. The guide went down first to show the way and Wayne followed successfully. Well, now remember the score is tied 3 and 3, a situation that could not be allowed to stand. This we have pictures of and they are presented below for your gloating over being sufficiently smart so as to avoid such "events".

Get ready, get set, AIM!!!

WHOOPS!!! Not sideways, Oh Please, not sideways!!!

Why is this man sitting on a rock in the middle of a  river?

Ahh, off the rock and into the maelstrom. Kinda like being between a rock and a wet place. ;-)

We have lift off!!! 

Quick, turn the camera around! I'm tired of moving backwards!!!

This is NOT supposed to happen!!!!

Well the trifocals were donated to the river sprites, more water was swallowed and the power of hydraulics were once again appreciated with the realization that despite the life vest and hold on a buoyant Funyak (?), it is basically impossible to keep one's head above water on a relatively permanent basis until floating clear of the rapids to the eddies below. On this trip Eddie was recognized as a wonderful friend.

Score Now: Wayne 3; Gust 5     I WIN!!!!

Well we sat as the guide described the next encounter. A 15 foot drop in 100 yards or so, a Class 4. This followed by some more more Class 2s and 3s to reach take out.

Wayne looked at me, I looked at Wayne and as the cold calculating steely eyes of determination locked we came to the mutual conclusion to cut and run. We were both exhausted from our paddling and pummeling, all of which could have been avoided if Wayne would have only piddled appropriately.

We could have continued to float Class 1 rapids, but in our current conditions we had, with luck, perhaps a 10 second burst of energy reserve if an emergency were encountered. Given Wayne's pissing the river off, emergencies were sure to happen. We paddled across the river above the rapids, the guide took our Funyaks in tow, proceeded through the chute while we walked around to meet him at the bottom. He then dropped our 'yaks with us to portage to a nearby road while he continued on the river to the original take out where a vehicle had been parked and was waiting. He returned, picked us and the equipment up and we returned to base.

Whilst walking beside the rapids we quit before taking, we both felt a GREAT SENSE OF RELIEF AND GRATITUDE to the River Spirits after all. If we had not had the earlier wipe-outs, we both are of firm belief that the trip would have ended not at all well had we attempted the Class 4. It was long, steep and vicious. While I've wiped out and ridden rapids down before never have any been as long, continuous and steep as this. It was an experience we both we be glad we missed.

In perspective of the power of hydraulics and pummeling we both considered ourselves to be in reasonably good shape for individuals of our advanced ages. Wayne just received his Black Belt with 2 White Stripes simultaneously (an almost unheard of event) and I do weights, treadmill and aerobics 6 or 7 days a week. He be in his 50s, me in the 60s and we took a heck of a beating in the water as (very thankfully) evidenced by our stopping two thirds of the way through the trip, before we killed ourselves.

On a positive side at aerobics this morning, I could stretch a good 2 inches farther than on Tuesday. Must have loosened joints, stretched ligaments or whatever. As has been said elsewhere:

IT IS AMAZING THE DISCOMFORT ONE WILL ENDURE TO HAVE FUN!!!

-- and with what has become a tradition with various SKUNK escapades we have our usual picture of the local cemetery..

This one tis dedicated to Carla of Arizona, whom/whomst  is reported to be for some reason, fascinated with Wisconsin Cemetery, pictures thereof.

 Epilog 

Now, philosophical serious stuff, fun and games over, ye may wish to stop reading now.

 While at the gym I learned that a good neighbor, Bill died as a result of a heart attack while on vacation in Mexico. He had only been a neighbor for several years, but I found him to be a remarkable man. He didn't think too much of his accomplishments, probably, and here I'm guessing because he was not very good in meeting the requirements of the traditional education system. Yet he was a rural Leonardo Da Vinci.  A spatial, mechanical, creatively genius. A very successful independent contractor who had lots of toys and knew how to use them. A drag line, bulldozer, grader, bobcat, flatbed semi and more.  He would clear old subdivisions for renewal and drive the back roads with a flatbed of mature 20 and 30 foot trees home to share with neighbors, a waterfall in his basement for the grandkids and humongous waterfall all around the house with great slabs of rock placed "just right" for smooth flows. On the road and in the woods a lot, he was known for picking up fawns whose mother was road kill, taking them home and giving them the run of an uncarpeted house. He went through a lot of paper towels. They learned to ride in his semi cab, and just like a dog, Bill would take the fawn on the road with him. He designed and built his own  hot water heating system, first using timber from land he cleared, then chips from the city and finally corn cobs to burn. At one time he was a demo driver for Ford and was called upon to demonstrate any Ford wheeled or tracked vehicle for potential customers. A true eccentric with a heart as big as all out doors. Plans were to fence his acreage for buffalo, elk and whatever.

He was a bit overweight, kinda like me, but otherwise didn't take care of himself and Mardi, his friend worried about him. Mardi is our next door neighbor and when she needed her house re-sided he found someone, who knew someone, who had a friend in Arkansas that had both a sawmill and a stand of hickory. Now Mardi has, probably, the only house in Wisconsin completely sided with natural hickory planks.

Bill died last weekend at 64.  Today we went to perhaps the funniest funeral on record.  Friends, cousins and other relatives told stories about Bill from childhood through manhood that had us all laughing and clapping and sad that the day was over. Bill took it all in from his polished wood urn on the altar (covered by his ragged straw hat) and I could swear that the urn rocked a little - could he have been laughing with us?  Tears were shed, too, even by the manliest of the storytellers.  No matter what trouble he got those guys into, his reply was always the same, "It'll be okay."  Those lucky guys knew Bill nearly all his 64 years; I only knew him a few years and will miss him forever. 

As I was writing the above adventure I was reminded of a favorite quote of a favorite author:

TWENTY YEARS FROM NOW YOU WILL BE MORE DISAPPOINTED BT THE THINGS THAT YOU DIDN'T DO THAN BY THE ONES YOU DIDN'T DO. SO THROW OFF THE BOWLINES. SAIL AWAY FROM THE SAFE HARBOR. CATCH THE TRADE WINDS IN YOUR SAILS. EXPLORE. DREAM. DISCOVER.

Mark Twain 

The aches, pains, pummeling, exhaustion of the Funyaks was worth it - I could do it now and there will come a time when I won't be able to.

Looking forward to leaning over the balloon gondola and expectorating on the cars below and wondering ,

"What next?"