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From: Dave Kruger <dkruger_at_pacifier.com>
subject: [Paddlewise] TR: Lower Columbia River, OR/WA [long]
Date: Thu, 02 Dec 1999 02:10:35 -0800
The future daughter-in-law seemed out of sorts, and that made *everybody*
uncomfortable, so we compensated by over-consuming food on Thanksgiving day ...
and the next day ... and the day after that.  It did not help that the
much-vaunted paddle with son and intended was squashed by the first Pineapple
Express of the season, courtesy of La Nina.  In lieu, we wandered around a muddy
bare lot, site of a house in six months (we hope), though the intended pouted in
the truck by herself.

Time to fade out into the marshes and channels out Brownsmead way.  Email the
Portland crew ... nope, nobody home.  Oh, well, I know how to do this stuff --
who needs companions, anyway?  Packa packa packa, fill water jugs, find clothes,
buy more food, beg a homemade turkey sandwich off the sweetie, stuff the yak on
top of the canopy and lasherdown!  Trundling up the highway, rain stomping the
tin ceiling, turkey gurgling inside.  Hallooo!  That slide they "fixed" last
summer has re-annointed the RR tracks at the put-in.  Ma Nature bats last,
dudes.

State game cop in his warm PU, checking hunters returning from the wet.  Now he
has "hid" his PU behind some other rigs -- some of the boats returning to the
ramp had been doing touch and goes ... heh! heh!  Officer Klepp on the hunt!  He
eyes me top to bottom when I tell him, "Yeah, I'm goin' camping in the islands
... I have a tarp!"  And shrugs and makes a face as the rain dribbles down his
chin.

There is a slight diminishment of the wet stuff as I unload and repacka repacka
repacka everything in hatches and slide off the beach.  Pelt pelt pelt on the
hat and deck ... splash splash splash on the water.  We're having fun, no? 
Dippy the deck duck is -- always smiling.

The ebb current is supposed to be fading, but it's not, so I hump myself against
it, as a headwind develops.  Not working hard enough to keep the hands warm, so
out come the pogies (first time in '99!), sliding past snowberries, rose hips
and red osier dogwood bankside.  Nobody else around.  Two and a half hours
later, I drag ashore on Tenasillahee Island at the campsite and hustle the tarp
200 yards to the treeline, spending half an hour in setup, cold-handed, but
torso-warm.  Hypothermia should dull my thinking processes, yes?  If I can set
up a tarp, I'm not hypothermic, yes?

Back to the boat and stuff meshies full of goodies -- two trips and everything
is under the tarp. Pelta pelta pelta.  I could get tired of this rain!  Hot
cocoa and I feel smarter -- maybe I *was* a little cold!

It's late in the day as freighters slip by in the mist.  Set up the tent in a
break between squalls, and the light fades.  Hit the Coleman lantern (fresh
mantle) and warm up dinner.  More freighters, and the VHF gurgles with ...
green-to-green ... we'll pull over to the red line a little cap, we're running
light.  These guys are very polite, and their patter alleviates my lonesome
feeling.  A week ago one of them cut a corner too much and flattened some sand
downriver in a narrow spot.  Took a couple high tides to get off.

Dinner down and wet suit off, I finally warm up and begin to enjoy the
solitude.  Pelta pelta pelta on the tarpa tarpa tarpa sounds peaceful.  Dark for
two hours now and off to bed, enveloped in fleece and Polarguard.  Reading lasts
ten minutes and I am dead to the world by 7 pm!

In the night rain noise disappears, and out-of-tent forays get simpler.  By
dawn, the tent is dry, courtesy of a light downriver breeze.  Sunrise is
spectacular, golden highlights kissing the east and pale blue stuff popping out
to the west.  That must be that "sky" stuff they talk about.  Geese and a hawk
or two do drive-by snoops as I slide out of the tent for the last time.  More
freighter traffic and I transfer gear to the yak, one trip this time, courtesy
of three full meshies draped over shoulders and tumped to the forehead.

The last one as I launch is the MV Marine Chemist.  Prophetic, I guess.

Off into the eddy as the freighter wake squashes through, surfing a little
across the line and into head current, then around the top of the island into
lovely tail current, drifting and watching the grebes and loons.  Warm, dry,
quiet, and two seals spyhop me, bristling their brows at the curmudgeon in his
cockpit.  No one all the way down the Clifton Channel.

An hour later, I am back at the ramp, courtesy of a two knot tail current and a
tailwind.  Hunters are gone, driven away by nice weather.

Drifting back along the highway, seems like that grouchy future
daughter-in-law's image is very faint ... think I'll keep the yak.  Maybe my son
should consider investing and divesting.  Polyester resin and true love may have
equal lifetimes.

-- 
Dave Kruger
Astoria, OR
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From: James Lofton <n5yyx_at_etsc.net>
subject: Re: [Paddlewise] TR: Lower Columbia River, OR/WA [long]
Date: Thu, 02 Dec 1999 12:01:52 -0800
Dave Kruger wrote:
> 
> The future daughter-in-law seemed out of sorts, and that made *everybody*
> uncomfortable, so we compensated by over-consuming food on Thanksgiving day ...
> and the next day ... and the day after that.  It did not help that the
> much-vaunted paddle with son and intended was squashed by the first Pineapple
> Express of the season, courtesy of La Nina.  In lieu, we wandered around a muddy
> bare lot, site of a house in six months (we hope), though the intended pouted in
> the truck by herself.
>

You either write pretty good, or I've been here before(both).
 
> Time to fade out into the marshes and channels out Brownsmead way.  Email the
> Portland crew ... nope, nobody home.  Oh, well, I know how to do this stuff --
> who needs companions, anyway?  Packa packa packa, fill water jugs, find clothes,
> buy more food, beg a homemade turkey sandwich off the sweetie, stuff the yak on
> top of the canopy and lasherdown!  Trundling up the highway, rain stomping the
> tin ceiling, turkey gurgling inside.  Hallooo!  That slide they "fixed" last
> summer has re-annointed the RR tracks at the put-in.  Ma Nature bats last,
> dudes.
> 
> State game cop in his warm PU, checking hunters returning from the wet.  Now he
> has "hid" his PU behind some other rigs -- some of the boats returning to the
> ramp had been doing touch and goes ... heh! heh!  Officer Klepp on the hunt!  He
> eyes me top to bottom when I tell him, "Yeah, I'm goin' camping in the islands
> ... I have a tarp!"  And shrugs and makes a face as the rain dribbles down his
> chin.
> 
> There is a slight diminishment of the wet stuff as I unload and repacka repacka
> repacka everything in hatches and slide off the beach.  Pelt pelt pelt on the
> hat and deck ... splash splash splash on the water.  We're having fun, 
>no?

Same here... Only differance is, I hate to "start" a trip in rain/snow 
now days. Something tells me the weather kinda fit the mood.

> Dippy the deck duck is -- always smiling.

Don't leave us hanging.... Introduce DDD(teacher, are you 
watching?"private joke")to us.

I have a small rubber duck(with sunglasses) that I have mated(with its 
permission) to the nut that holds the combing nose cap on, of my kodiak. 
No name tho.

(snip) 
> Drifting back along the highway, seems like that grouchy future
> daughter-in-law's image is very faint ... think I'll keep the yak.  Maybe my son
> should consider investing and divesting.  Polyester resin and true love may have
> equal lifetimes.
> 
> --
> Dave Kruger

Good one Dave, thanks!
Amazing what a trip, even a short one can do.

James
> Astoria, OR


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From: <Sandykayak_at_aol.com>
subject: Re: [Paddlewise] TR: Lower Columbia River, OR/WA [long]
Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1999 17:17:36 EST
In a message dated 12/02/1999 5:16:15 AM Eastern Standard Time, 
dkruger_at_pacifier.com writes:

<< Maybe my son  should consider investing and divesting.  Polyester resin 
and true love may have equal lifetimes. >>


by divesting, you do mean the fiancee, don't you?   Yeah, I thought so when 
she was pouting in the truck.  

Here's the narrative of a Bizarro cartoon where the "Mommy" is reading a 
fairy tale to the little kid:

"....and the prince kissed her & they fell in love, dated for a while, moved 
in together, broke up, got back together, got married, had a baby, got 
separated, got back together, broke up again, divorced, spent time alone 
discovering themselves, met someone new, fell in love & repeated the pattern 
habitually ever after."

Boy, it really is weird when someone else write's your autobiography, isn't 
it? :)

Sandy Kramer
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From: Bob Volin <bobvolin_at_bestweb.net>
subject: Re: [Paddlewise] TR: Lower Columbia River, OR/WA [long]
Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1999 22:52:19 -0500
GREAT story, Dave!   Mouse went clicka clicka clicka, line by line, to the
bittersweet end.
    Thanks!


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