Disclaimer: This is a literary post, if you just want to see people hucking their meat and where they did so, just scroll through the photos and read the captions.

We are aliens. Our boats are our spaceships. 

Dramatic? Yes, but no less true. 

In the strictest sense, our boats transport us through space and time. That they travel only linearly and with roughly the same velocity as most other things through time will do nothing to discourage me from calling them time travel devices. Even the shape of a kayak is similar to the rockets we often envision time machines taking on.

And if we loosen those restrictions to account for the perceived shift in the space time continuum, you might just start seeing what I'm getting at. It's said that time flies when you're having fun, and quite often I end long river trips wondering where exactly the last 6 hours have gone. Mental playback of the day happens at high speed, skipping by at a blur.

When things go wrong, or get committing, time slows down. We plan our strokes in slow motion, gentle smooth strokes fill our minds eye when we know our paddle blades will be spinning like a windmill. When we watch a friend getting beatdown the seconds stretch out and settle in, like unwelcome guests oblivious to their transgressions. When you're the one in the hole, it's twice, three times as bad. A minute feels like an hour.

And then there are the golden moments. They happen most often at the horizon line, when the world you know is suddenly expanded, abruptly made real. Those instants stay with me, paused, or running loops over and over again. Groundhog Day with no opportunity to make right the wrongs, just plenty of time to observe, acknowledge, and accept. And improve the next time. It happens in the slow moving pools, too. When the light bounces down the canyon wall, or the massive bull moose steps across the river like it's a small stream.

And how many times do we find ourselves in the heart of a foreign wilderness, feeling just as at home as our local backyard run? Or on that backyard run and feeling as out of place as we would on the moon? Even roadside runs can feel committing and remote. No matter what our physical proximity to town or even the next person is, the river can sweep us away into another world.

So there you have it, our boats are our spaceships. And what does that make us?

We could call ourselves astronauts, or simply travelers. But I prefer to think of myself as an alien. Alien, at least, to "those desk-bound men and women with their hearts in a safe deposit box, and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators" that Ed Abbey struggles so hard to tolerate.

We wear our specialized space suits, our harnesses and safety equipment. We probe, discover, document. We choose to live in a different world. As we leave the remote river, it feels less like coming home and more like immersing ourselves in a strange, sometimes hostile planet. And when the humans reaching out, making contact with our world in their own ways, encounter us, it's usually with surprise, even shock. They wave from shore, staring, wondering how we got there. They rarely speak, as if they believe we speak another language. And we do. Our lingo may as well be gobbledigook, and we read the river like a book.

So you can keep searching out there in the void if you'd like. Maybe you'll even find something. But I think I'll keep my focus on these aliens that call themselves "Normal." There's plenty of them around, and they're pretty easy to observe. Not much travel involved. And as long as I can make it back to my planet every once in a while, I think things will work out.

By now, you're probably all familiar with this video, since the blog you're reading is named after it.

But it's good fun to watch again (and again, and again, and...)

Last weekend was Labor Day Weekend, better known as Beaverfest, and as usual hundreds of paddlers flocked to the western Adirondacks to get some Beaver. It also happened to be the 6 year anniversary of my rebirth as the Beaverator Kid, and while I didn't paddle the Taylorville section this weekend, I'll be making my way back there in the coming weeks.

More importantly, I stepped it up in a big way elsewhere.

If you're lazy and/or don't care to hear me describe the incredible awesomeness of the weekend, feel free to skip to the bottom paragraphs which contain the morals!

 Last year, I had a staph infection on my knee that made walking difficult, and the idea of shoving it into a thighbrace unfathomable. It was the first Beaverfest I hadn't paddled in 7 years. I spent the weekend surrounded by friends and strangers alike running the river...over and over and over again. I was miserable, but I took a bunch of great photos and determined that no matter what I'd be healthy the following year.

And so I found myself here a year later:

 Yeah, that's a massive roostertail. It stems from a ledge/rock that juts up about 2 feet out of the bedrock right at the bottom-middle of the slide. There's a pretty solid amount of flow that crashes straight into it, making a normally large and ominous slide downright intimidating. 

 Surprisingly, I bucked up and ran it. It took a little while, but after watching a number of people miss their boof and sloppily bounce down and still making it to the right too early, I remembered the wise words of Kate Daniel: "What could possibly go wrong?" And so I dropped in, nailing a boof and waiting to make the move to the right, finding it surprisingly smooth.

Stoked on finally firing up one of the biggest drops in NY, we headed down for an eventful run down the normal stretch. An unnamed paddler that looked vaguely familiar to me and may or may not have taught me everything I know took a stout beating at the second drop, followed by a swim. Then another anonymous individual took a brutal hit to the face in one of the no-name rapids.

Unfazed, we continued downriver with a couple more (justifiable) swims and 2 hot laps down Moshier Falls for me. It was the first year I really felt in control coming through the pushy series and into the boof.

The Eagle followed, where Catherine got to practice her boof, and others sneaked in and out of eddies between KONY Racers charging down the course.

The following day, Taylor decided that buying a Beaverfest sticker and putting it on the back of his car wasn't enough, so he passed up an awesome time on the Raquette to paddle the Taylorville section (again).

And by awesome time on the Raquette, I mean it must have been interesting to watch, since I botched a line at Colton, requiring me to reset in the eddy above the boof and then battle a submerged rock at the bottom before ultimately rolling and scrambling into an eddy. Dylan seemed to be thinking twice after I said "it's not that hard, watch me..."

We continued quickly down to the Tubs. Dylan had a clean line, and I headed up to run it myself, confident in my past experience.

It should go without saying that I was overly confident.

I don't know how long I was in there, but I thought about swimming a couple times. Then I rolled up and saw where I was. With a pillow of water pushing me back towards the curtain and an swirling current securing me deep in the pocket, I realized no matter how bad things seemed in the boat, I didn't want to go swimming here.

After getting violently tossed, having my paddle snatched from one hand, and getting bowstalled underwater, I finally rolled up and managed to draw my way out before styling the second drop.

Dylan followed me down Particle Accelerator to continue the carnage. His right hand was totally shredded, but I think he got away without stitches. Catherine saved him the carry out by joining me for the remainder of the run, and all in all, the day was a success.

So here's the moral:

Even though I styled my lines on the Moshier, I feel that the beatdown and my ability to surf out of it speaks more to my skills as a paddler. Doug Ammons states that "The real measure of skill is not what you can paddle in optimum circumstances" but "what you can do when the worst happens and you're at rock bottom." While I was far from rock bottom (only figuratively speaking) I can at least say my ability to adapt quickly to a plan b or c has evolved greatly since the Beaverator Incident. No matter what class of paddler I become, paddling rivers I started out on will always hold a special place in my heart for the sense of renewed perspective and growth I can find on them.

Bonus moral:

Getting worked sucks, but it makes you a better paddler. Try it sometime.

So there you have it, young grasshopper, the game of eddy, and the key to me surviving this:

Video of The Wrap Up here!
(I still expect you to read the post though)

Although it didn't yield my biggest drops to date, 2011 was indeed the year of the stout...

While some paddlers in more mild regions or with the means to travel abroad enjoy an endless kayaking "season," I yield to the grip of the harsh northeastern rivers, at least, for a time...

I made my paddling debut this year in the Delaware Water Gap, an area with a concentration of big, runnable drops that rivals anywhere else I've ever heard of. It was March 5th, and surprisingly warm, though the walls of Raymondskill Creek still held large icicles. And here lies highlights 1 & 2...

Highlight 1: I got a drysuit for Christmas the year before, and it was my first opportunity to use it...

for paddling.

Highlight 2: Paddling this as my first rapid of the year...

After an evening spent harassing the Cobb family and eating their pizza, Dylan and I headed to Harveys Creek. The pouring rain through the night brought flood conditions and cold temperatures as we pulled up to the put-in to meet Elliot. Rain turned to snow as we dropped over the first rapid, and Dylan mentioned that the water was a bit high.

As we paddled down to the lower put in, Mark Zakutansky and his group confirmed that water was higher than most people had ever seen it. Check out DJ Scott's video here!

Highlight 3: Not swimming, and finishing Harvey's when only 3 of 8 did. Also the fact that my second day was spent on ridonkulously high water.

Rain turned to snow throughout the day, and nearly a foot of snow the next morning prevented further paddling excursions in the PA area, so I headed home to relax for a few days before we were struck by more rain. Enter Highlight 4...

 Running The Lowville Trifecta, 3 different waterfalls on 2 branches of Mill Creek.

All 3 had been on my list for a while, and I can only confirm that the last one featured in the film had been run before. With an auspicious start to the season, I returned to Vermont for several river trips on runs both familiar and unfamiliar.

Highlights 5 and 6: My first lap down Ridley Brook with renowned guidebook author and C1-er Alden Bird, later joined by several other VT mischief makers, and a trip down Devils Washboul, discovered by Dave Packie, and a true gem of a creek!

Less than a week later, I found myself paddling in NH. Pond Brook and S. Branch of the Baker filled the day, a worthy endeavor. After having my first strainer experience (mild, yet frightening) on Pond Brook, I nearly boat scouted myself into Cannibal Falls. Which is a shame, because without knowing there's a huge ledge at the bottom, the it would be one of the most fun rapids in the North East. 

Of course, knowing my limits and being more confident in my abilities would dissipate the importance of that ledge quite a bit. Proof I still have a reason to kayak...

Highlight 7: The Big Branch and the spectacular Clarendon Gorge (both in VT) in April both provided incredible memories that will take a long time to fade. The Big Branch also marked the steepest river to date at over 350 fpm, with no vertical drops over 10 feet. I'm proud to say I ran everything but Cave Drop...

Highlight 8: My now annual trip to The Forks in Maine resulted in consuming fresh rabbit meat, enjoying the freebie playboat I got days before (Thanks Dave!!!), and running the Kennebec gorge at just over 15,000 cfs.

Highlight 9: Rafting the Bottom Moose, leading UVMers down Mill Creek, and the week and a half of near nonstop paddling that followed including many descents of the Indy, a few of Otter Creek, and my personal first descent of the Oswegatchie. Check out Scott Martin's Blog for some more shots...

That week and a half in May yielded the highest concentration of class IV+ boating I have experienced... It was AWESOME! A few days later I had my wisdom teeth surgically removed. They dry socketed, causing some intense pain. The day before I drove across the country with my dad we had them packed to heal. I then performed "minor oral surgery" in various motel rooms across the country for the next week. Enter lowlight #1...

Lowlight 1: Dry sockets suck, but Ohio, Iowa and 3/4 of South Dakota suck a lot worse. Fortunately, a 28 hour push minimized the dull and the drab.

Fortunately, Highlight 10 negated Lowlight 1.

Highlight 10: An evening hosted by Doug and Robin Ammons, an evening hosted by the Jirasko family, and the slow realization that I was living in Portland, OR for the summer.

Highlight 11: Working for Sam Drevo of eNRG Kayaking, a great instructor and better friend! The entire crew at eNRG are some of the best friends I have made, and they did a great job showing me around some of the classic rivers of the Pacific Northwest. The Lower Wind, Wenatchee, Fall-In-The-Wall, and Skykomish were all incredible rivers with amazing scenery. Learning to surf, SUP, and all the incredible people I met along the way are subhighlights as well.

When I got back, I missed SUP so much I tried it on my sister's kayak...

Highlight 12: A no portage personal first descent of the Green Truss confirmed my belief that I'm a solid class IV boater that sometimes paddles class V, a fact I'm quite content with. For those with the skills, this river is without a doubt a must run.

Highlight 13: A trip to the Outdoor Retailer Summer Market, where I got to meet some of the top athletes in several sports and won/was given a TON of awesome gear (and stickers!!).

Unfortunately, my time answering phones and reciting the history of Willamette Falls had to come to an end. But not before a sweet bungee jumping excursion, made possible through Drevo's endless connections... definitely a mini highlight. Then followed another lowlight....

Lowlight 2: Driving across the country...again. After the necessary stop to visit the Jiraskos once again, we drove 33 hours from Montana to Ohio.

Lowlight 3: Attending community college. I backstepped from a university setting to what felt like the 13th grade. 'Nuff said.

Lowlight 4: While my pals from UVM were enjoying the Beaver River releases, especially the Moshier section, which release only 4 hours per year, I was left hobbling around the riverbank with a Staph infection. Despite multiple visits to the doctor, I still ended up hospitalized wondering if I'd get to keep my leg.

Danny doing it left

Did I mention I love when Taylor screws up

After a lengthy recovery process, I joined Scott Martin for a Gauleyfest trip. We kicked it off on the Upper Yough with Drevo at 2.7 feet and met up with with Will "C-money" Crimmins of Yakima fame.

Highlight 14: Not having to sleep outside the first night. It was freezing. Also picking up my first ever brand new boat, a Liquidlogic Stomper 90. On the Upper section the next day, I didn't want to even set it on the rocks, but boofing that thing was just too much fun. The Stomper is an incredible design for sure!

Highlight 15: Working with AW and several members of the VT paddling community on my birthday weekend to perform a Flow Study on the Green River. Check out the original writeup here!

Highwater Moosefest was bittersweet, and though very fun, just misses the standard for a highlight as I lost a borrowed GoPro mounted on my bow.

Lowlight 5: Losing a GoPro, and having to fight Danny about what constitutes a "swim." Personally, I like to think of it as a skirt implosion to aquatic boat retrieval. It also dented my Stomper :(

Finally hitting the regular section of Roaring Brook does count as a highlight though...

This drop isn't easy to get to, but it's pretty fun.... Mike Mainer Photo

Highlight 16: Roaring Brook is awesome. The UVM crew rallied to paddle since the Moose was scary high and Brokeback Gorge was also too high (plus very woody), so we made the day a double header. I led them down Roaring Brook, though it was also my first time down, and then we headed to Otter Creek. Mini-highlight: Running the Eagle's Talons in the topoduo with Ben Schott!

Highlight 17: The Blizzard of OS

Highlight 18: Taking my father on his first whitewater kayaking trip on the Middle Moose, and managing not to lose any gear in the process, despite a swim in the lead in to House Rock.

My next foray on the Moose resulted in a broken paddle, but fortunately Uncle Jim was prepared with a  breakdown. Fortunately, a replacement is in the works, and even better, it's an upgrade! A trip to PA to explore some steep creeks in the Rock Run area with Scott Martin followed, and then later a visit from Dylan Cobb that resulted in some fun exploring and another personal first descent near my home.

As the temperatures finally started dropping, boating became scarce. Despite this, I still made it out on Christmas day, resulting in highlight 19.

Highlight 19: Soloing the Independence on christmas. It was low flow, but still a great way to get out and celebrate.

And finally, Highlight 20: Producing and editing an online magazine, "The Dirtbag's Guide to Whitewater", and not doing a terrible job!


The wrap-up:

It was an incredible year, filled with great friends, new and old. I wrote a novel, produced a magazine, and paddled a lot. By paddling a lot, I mean more than ever before...
Stats:
River sections and trips: 92
River miles: 230+ (not counting numerous lower clack trips)
Gradient loss: 12,500 + (incomplete records)
10 of 12 months paddled
31 Personal First Descents
2 Probable First Descents
2 flood runs
and a hell of a lot of fun!

Finally, I'd like to thank everyone that made this year great!
Especially you, dear reader, your comments and continued support is downright inspiring!