Two rather big developments in this post:

1. I finally broke my first paddle

2. I've reached the halfway point of my novel.

So first, let me just say that I've had my $170 AT for 3-4 years now. I can't say that I intentionally mistreated it, but I certainly didn't baby it either. But hey, everyone uses their paddle as a baseball bat every once in a while, right? ....right?

Ok, so I didn't ever do that, but I did toss it on shore, use it as a depth meter, and crank really huge boofs with it.

As those of you who have paddled with me know, it was really only a matter of time. The blades had been worn down at least an inch on the edges, and sometime last summer it started sinking in the water. It had a lovely tendency to fill with water and then leak out on dry clothes.  At some point I had this fixed with a little duct tape, but at Gauleyfest this year the problem returned. I noticed a little more flex than usual and began avoiding more committing runs (except the Oswegatchie, that's just too good to miss). In the end though, it happened on one of the rivers that gave it the most abuse.

The paddle finally gave out on the Bottom Moose. It more or less folded at the joint on impact at Fowlersville. In this case, I think the tuck did more harm than my typical plug, but I guess we'll never know. Either way, I was glad it happened here instead of further down. For one, I was closer to the cars so I could drive shuttle if necessary, and two, I wasn't halfway down Powerline or Crystal trying to C1.

Fortunately for me, Jim was too lazy to take his breakdown out of his boat from our last paddling trip, and he had it assembled by the time I could hand off my broken paddle. It flexed a lot, but at this point it probably had more surface area on the blades than mine did. I finished out the day enjoying the unseasonably late warmth with good friends and a few new ones.

Ok, now for the boring part.

I just reached the halfway point in my novel, and because all of you are such faithful readers, you get a little sneak peak, inspired by the Moose!

Cobb was already sliding before he realized what Sam had talked him into doing. He had nodded and smiled and laughed his way up the steep slope to the narrow plateau and tightened the back of his seat so he was snug in the bright plastic. And now he was flying down the ocean of pine needles, rocketing through the gauntlet of tree trunks. He leaned forward and reached across the bow of his boat, minimizing the surface area left to slam into a tree branch. He breathed the soft scent of crushed pine needles. The rush of air and soft shifting of plastic along the loamy soil rang in his ears like an orchestra. In a moment, the dusky blur was blasted into a faint memory by the golden sunlight of the open river. He hung in the air for a moment and remembered those cold car rides wishing he could fly.

He landed in the dark, cool water with a slap that brought his focus back into the present. He grinned. He knew that was only the beginning of the day’s excitement. He began paddling downstream, eager for the next rush of color and sound. Sam landed in the water with a whoop and caught up. They were junkies drifting between the small boulders, looking ahead at the edge of the world, their next fix. Treetops and empty space. The black conveyer belt before them flowed onwards, indifferent to the blank space ahead. A yellow leaf drifted listlessly over the edge. Cobb followed, falling, accelerating, disappearing. He popped up in the foam and swirling pieces of driftwood at the bottom and paddled into an eddy. Sam followed soon after, and Cobb counted ten mississippis before he emerged from the grasp of the white noise, grinning. And then they were off again, weaving their laughter between boulders and over more horizons.

Cobb and Sam never once stopped to scout ahead and find the route. This was their run. They had a responsibility to know where the big holes were and at what level the ledges were still ok to paddle. Together they had over 200 runs on this section alone. It was their training grounds. Some might say their confidence was justified. The one rapid that still made Cobb’s heart rise to his throat was Crystal. There was something about that coliseum of sandy-orange rock and the cascading whitewater within it that resonated with his soul. Interacting with something like that never came as easy as he expected. Instead, it created a challenge that left him breathless, unnerved, and wishing it would never end.

 I also think the very middle word of the target word count (25,000 of 50,000) being "Rum" is important to mention. Some might say the entire novel centers around alcohol. Based on word counts, they would be correct.

And now the bonus material!

I managed to get outside between the terrible weather, paddling, and writing like a madman. I even got the family to come with. Well, some of them...

We spent some time hiking into a few drops on the West Branch of the Oswegatchie, which looks like a lot of fun, but also has a lot of flatwater. Here are a few shots.



 The biggest reasons to try and get along with fishermen:
There are more of them than there are us
They have more influence on access to rivers
They know about lots of sweet waterfalls we might not

Sweet waterfalls like this...

I found a piece of ice that looked a lot like Vermont, so I had Nicole snap a picture of me "In" an "Icy VT." The trails were all in really good condition and had some pretty sweet views at the end. They'd make some good picnicking destinations, and they're pretty easy to get to. I found all of them with directions here! 

So after an awesome Moosefest, the water just stayed up. The Oswegatchie kept rising, and I knew it was going to be awesome on Tuesday, so I sent out a call using a high-tech new device made to contact large groups of people all at once: The Facebook Status.

Invitation in place, I headed out to drive to school, but before I could fasten my seatbelt I got a text from Jim Dobbins asking if I wanted to paddle. Great minds think alike. When I got back, Dave G(n)ardner had also answered the call to stout, arguing "why not today?"

With plans in place, I went to bed dreaming of huge boofs, scary holes, and big drops.

I had only paddled the Os once before, in the spring with Scott Martin and Alan Panebaker. When we went, the gauge was reading crazy high, up at 2230 cfs, so we were a little nervous paddling into the unknown. Luckily, we had the perfect flows, and I couldn't imagine it being nearly as much fun with any less water. You can check out Scott's awesome writeup and photos here! He even got a shot of a scumbag like me in Banks Mag from the trip!

So when the guage read 1800 cfs the on the cold and dismal morning just two days after Moosefest, I was confident that I would be running almost everything. That's not to say that I was going to go in there guns ablazing, but come on, how bad could it be?

Well, there are reasons Jim likes to call it the Out-To-Get-Me. I think the river was doing it's best to seduce me into a false sense of security this spring, because as soon as we got to the takeout I could tell it was high. I mumbled something about taking a look at the West Branch (renowned for it's flatwater), while Jim and Dave were already buckling the belts on their big boy pants. After changing, we rode up the bouncy, rocky, dirt road to the put in in Jim's subaru outback. I sat quietly in back, remembering with a faint sense of irony, that my Hyaundai Accent has significantly less ground clearance than most cars.

At the put in, we once again commented on how high the water was. Dave cheerily added that he had snacks. "Oh good," I thought, "at least I won't die on an empty stomach..."

Truth be told, I wasn't that scared. I new just about everything was pretty easy to walk, but I was definitely a little nervous. We had all done it before, but Uncle Jim was the group veteran, and he did an awesome job guiding us down. Without his verbal beta and quick 1 man scouts, the take-out would have been much darker when we got to it. Dave might have even had to go snuggle with the dog that kept barking at us for warmth, it wouldn't be the first time after all. But that's another story...

I ended up walking Nipple Twist Falls, while Dave and Jim both styled it.

 We all ran the entrance drop above Rainbow, but Jim and I managed to tweak our backs pretty good at the end of the slide. As soon as I saw Rainbow I got fired up to kayak such an incredible waterfall again. Still, it was big and intimidating, and I had no problem letting Dave probe. I even took video...

After a line like that, I couldn't not run it. I gave Dave and Jim the thumbs up and took a last look at the lead-in and got in my boat. I lined up using the same two curlers I did last time, and not surprisingly, had almost the same line I did last time. I end up getting a half boof off the flake on the right, so next time I think I'll follow Dave's line a little closer and look for a pot of gold at the base of the Rainbow.

As I rolled into the lip, I felt incredibly calm and ready. I felt like I was where I wanted to be, but at the last second I started getting pulled over to the right side again and just nicked the flake on the right, twisting me sideways. I planted a big brace in there and worked it out, straightening out before impact and resurfacing slightly sideways. It's always a surprisingly soft hit, and surprisingly smooth the whole way down for that matter. 

After re-grouping at the base, we cruised the fun gorge below and relaxed in the easier water on the way out to Bryants Bridge. From there starts section 4.

Both sections are roughly equal in length, but characteristically different. Section 3, in my opinion, involves more time spent wondering what's around the corner and navigating cool mini-gorges. Section 3 also has Rainbow Falls, which is a really fun and (seemingly) forgiving big drop.

Section 4 has less consistent whitewater, but more big rapids. There's a bit more flatwater on this stretch, but if you're ready to run the big ones, it packs them in nicely. Sluice Falls offers a great finale for those looking to lose some vertical with a little more challenge than on Rainbow.

I was really surprised with how much different this stretch became with higher water. The holes got significantly more powerful, and I ended up walking some of the drops that I thought were the most fun last time. Fortunately, the river isn't going anywhere.

Dave did a great job of showing the Toothferry who's boss, and we both took huge hits at the bottom of Panther Falls. Jim probably drank a glass of milk while he watched us, leaving us to damage our spines. While filming at Panther, Dave said I disappeared in the spray and the next time he saw me I was resurfacing 30 feet from the base.

Once again, Uncle Jim led the charge through the blind corners and boat scouted the stuff Dave and I were too scared to run blind. When we got to Sluice, I needed about 30 seconds to decide that there was too much water for me to feel comfortable nailing my line. Jim started the portage, and Dave fought the good fight: Seeing the line, but just not being sure enough, and finally decided to take the sneak (portage).

We ran the final rapids and settled into an easy cadence of paddling and talking for the next 20-30 minutes to the takeout. 

Quote of the day: "I was supposed to do basework today, but I looked at Tom and I said 'No, Tom, I'm not doing basework today. I'm going stouting.' And I packed my stuff, and now we're going stouting!"

And of course, the obligatory video-edit!

Self proclaimed line  of the day: