[Paddlewise] mud

     This message is for all paddlers, but especially dedicated to 
Clyde Sisler, with whom I can now identify.
     A bunch of us spent Memorial Weekend camped in the rain along 
the banks of Willapa Bay in S.W. Washington, U.S.A. Our first day 
out, we decided to launch from Bay City ramp, and explore the Niawiakum 
River. It was a beautiful paddle up the river, as the tide gently 
ebbed, and an eagle screeched at me from a lofty perch. The rest of 
the group ate lunch and turned back, but I was enjoying the paddling 
so much that I just had to go as far as the tidal estuary would 
allow. So I paddled up a steadily more narrow and shallow tidal 
stream, until progress could be made no more. Turning back, the down 
river trip was equally entrancing, but the water level had dropped 
significantly. I began to wonder if I could make it across the bay 
and back to the ramp.
     Approaching the river's mouth, I could see no other paddlers. In 
fact, I mostly saw mud flats. Dang. Panic. Worry. Etc. I could see 
across the bay to where the ramp sat, but had no clue as to how to 
get there. I tried paddling a small channel that was now showing, but 
it petered out. I was still several hundred yards from the ramp. 
Maybe I should have brought a chart. Anyway, I decided to hump across 
the flats, and drag the boat. Boy, was that ever a big mistake.
     Willapa Bay mud is real gooey, sucking mud. You put your foot 
in, and it doesn't want to come out. It pulls the Teva sandals right 
off your feet. In a matter of minutes, you and everything you own get 
caked in thick, rich , black, smelly, slimey gunk. And that's just in 
the first few minutes. Pulling a kayak across mud is work. And 
dangerous too. There's no guarantee you will ever get out of that 
morass. 
     I suppose it took an hour or more to cross that mud flat. There 
was even an audience on the far shore watching the drama unfold. 
Fatigue was setting in, with aching arms, aching back, tired, tired, 
tired legs. I began to doubt that I would make it. But some of us 
really hate to miss dinner, especially when dinner is a sumptuous 
feast served up by a crew of crazy, ravenous paddlers, who have 
channeled their pent-up city life frustrations into culinary 
delights.
     So I finally staggered to the water's edge, fell into the muddy 
kayak, and paddled up the boat channel to the ramp. There was a crowd 
of my group waiting at the ramp. It seems someone (I won't mention 
any names) had locked their keys in the car, and they were'nt going 
anywhere. But eventually the car was unlocked, boat and gear and 
clothing were washed off, and the group returned to camp. Dinner was 
excellent, and for at least one of us, bedtime was 9:00 o'clock.   
     What lessons did I learn and relearn? Paddle with your group. 
There's safety in numbers. Bring a chart-always. It's hard to see 
when your're standing 3 feet tall in a mud flat. Be aware of your 
surroundings. Go home before the tide drops. And I hope you enjoyed 
that, Clyde. 
**********************************************************************
Bradford R. Crain                             E-mail: brad_at_mth.pdx.edu
Dept. of Mathematics                          Phone: (503) 725-3127
Portland State Univ.                          FAX:   (503) 725-3661  
P.O. Box 751
Portland, Or. 97207
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