Mischief and Mayhem on the High Seas

At 1:45, well fed on shellfish and reclining on a corduroy futon, it is difficult to believe the state of affairs that I found myself in only a week ago. And that pales in comparison to the fateful afternoon of July 8th;a day which began full of promise and optimism. But thats how this whole thing began, and look how far that got us. (Read: a mix of sarcasm and ironic honesty)

Apple Orchard Falls was beautiful. There was an opening in the tree cover on the path, exposing a beautiful valley, reminiscent of Georgia and the Smokies, which opened up to the west, allowing for gorgeous sunsets. We had high hopes of making it to Waynesboro by the AquaBlaze, full of Grandma food as we were and prepared with steaks and a box of wine for the evening (courtesy of Jess's parents). We hiked on... but didn't make it far. Turns out Grandma food and 6 zero days has a leadening effect on hiking legs, and we barely made it 5 miles. The next day, again with high hopes and better hydrated, we set off for 16 miles of downhill... and only made it 8 before Graveyard was literally collapsing and crying in frustration and pain. Turns out you can't even pretend to be a thru-hiker if all you've been doing is hitch-hiking. We split from Jen and Ninja again, who had to go meet Sod Father to return his dog, Blue, to him. After a few painfully slow days, we realized there was no way were going to make the AquaBlaze and hopped off at Glasgow, from which we hitched to Buena Vista. We found our first bar since entering Virginia here, but it didn't serve liquor! And all I wanted was a jack & coke. To our surprise, and the surprise of the bartender, the one thing I wanted was the one premixed malted beverage he had – bottles of premixed Jack Daniels and Coke. We asked if the friendly guy if we could camp in his small lawn (offering small compensation), and he sadly said that even if he gave us permission, we'd be arrested by the end of the night for loitering or vagrancy or public drunkenness by one of the 15 cops in this population 5,000 or less town. He also cut me off after 3 drinks because “no one's gotten busted out of my establishment yet”. Apparently, stumbling on the street is an arrestable offense in Buena Vista. We sat next to a couple who owned a horse ranch of some kind, and the reminisced about how they used to go hiking before their knees gave out and their back got hurt... in other words, before they turned 50. We talked with them for quite some time, and they left us with good wishes for a safe journey. When it came our turn to leave, we discovered that they had paid our bill for us! We camped at the local (overcharged, but we could afford it now because of the kindness of strangers) campground. Next day, we began the 60 mile hitch to Waynesboro. We still didn't have enough time to walk there, as we knew that the boats would probably arrive 2-3 days before July 1 (our scheduled departure date), and there were no more towns between Buena Vista and Waynesboro. And friendly family on their way home from grocery shopping ran us up Blue Ridge Parkway a little ways, and then we sat and waited. Graveyard drew a pretty sign on our Tyvek in the 2 hours that we sat there, and eventually a quiet man on his way home from fishing pulled over to give us a lift. Over the course of the next half hour car ride, we came to learn (among other things) that he was an actor (he's done several appearances on that t.v. comedy with Alec Baldwin and Tina Fey) and that his dream role was King Lear... which, coincidently enough, I was actually reading at that moment, having been inspired by Gnarly (an actor as well, who could quote Shakespeare) to pick up a play I had never seen. We got along with him quite well. Instead of dropping us when he got off the Blue Ridge before Waynesboro, he took us with him to run a few errands, treated us to pizza (! where we finally learned his name was Ray), and brought us all the way to Waynesboro! Wonders never cease. There are two things this trail has definitively taught me – we're all trying to be good, we just don't know how; and to be grateful for the amazingness of the world and of other people. Thanks Ray!

It was the eve of June 28th, a Sunday. We had left the Lutheran basement hostel, closed for the season, where we had unexpectedly encountered our past compadres Gnarley (AKA General Gnarley of the Minutemen Militia) and Boofer, the one who coined my trail name. After our eviction, we bid safe journies to our friends and made our way to the local YMCA. The people there were sympathetic to hikers and provided free showers and a field in which to pitch a tent. It came furnished with a picnic table and well kept Porto-John. What more can a man ask for? In addition to the plush amenities, our site came with a few loco SOBO's (southbound hikers, a wholly different breed) and front row tickets to the Jerry Springer Show. One SOBO from Vermont took an interest in aqua blazing and asked to sign on. That made eleven: the original nine, consisting of Myself, Graveyard, Dugout, Dizzy Bat, Jen, Ninja, Danger Muffin, Ezra, and Goucha; as well as Magma Orphan, introduced to us by Gnarley at the Hostel, and Miles the SOBO. Plus Einstein the dog. This worked out well, as Ryan and Natahan Houeholder were inbound at that moment with five canoees and a kayak in tow. We had also begun a waiting list, with Wheels and Cookie (pus a dog) seeking an end to the tedium of routine and the Virginia Blues, a well documented hiker phenomenon. Many would offer explainations for it, but I maintain its existance as inexplicable. It is around Wheels that an impromptu episode of Jerry Springer arose, also inexplicably. A pair of locals stopped by on scooters and proceeded to drink themselves stupider on cheap beer in large cans, and make small talk consisting mostly of mountain slang and gibberish. This was unusual, but not unheard of, and we tried our best to be polite and represent hiker-kind in a positive fashion. We began to get the impression that all the Neighborhood Meth Watch stickers we had been seeing were not just a budget ploy. Either that or these two gentlemen had been drinking too much of the South River water, and not upstream o' the DuPont plant (makers of such wonderful products as Tyvek, our floor) One of the locals finally left, but a dispute broke out between Wheels and the remaining yocal. He felt he had crossed us and demanded that we 'beat his arse' to make up for it. This went on for some time, since we would do no such thing, regardless of whether he would fight back or not. He finally called his wife, who showed up in a rusted out van with two teen sons and a daughter. This woman was one of the most terrifying and intimidating people I have ever met, and she seemed perfectly willing to give her husband the thrashing he was after. There was a lot of bad noise between the family, culminating in her dragging him away by his collar and their son riding off on the scooter. We could only look at each other, completely at a loss for words.

That night, Ryan and Nathan showed up with the boats and Dugout. They had their share of excitement as well, trying to rig the trailer with a working light system and finally duct taping flashlights to it and wrapping them in red cellophane. We spent the evening catching up and then called it an early night a bit before dawn. Two more thru-hikers pulled in and joined our revelry. They were understandably jealous of the Aqua Blaze and spent a good hour making plans to buid a raft and float along with us. next day we ran errands and were suprised to return to camp and find them sitting next to a large inner tube and plotting to buy several more. We left them to their delusions and made a run to Walmart. While there, we saw a yellow rubber raft for $40 and figured that if they were dead set on tagging along, they would be better off in the raft than in a craft made of tires selling for $20 a tube. And that is how Walking Home and Chinese Tourist (no, he's not Chinese) pirated their way on to the Aqua Blaze. Wheels and Cookie took a more legitimate route. Miles had vanished that morning with all of his belongings and was never seen again. We also found out that our friend Jr. was trying to join our group and had his own canooe, and a dog. This gave us two openings and cleared our wait-list. And that is how the Aqua Blaze grew to 15 people and 3 dogs (Graveyard, The Phlo, DugOut, DizzyBat, Einstein the dog, Jen, Ninja, Ezra, Danger Muffin, Goucha, Magma Orphan, Wheels, Cookie, Chaya the dog, Jr., Rusty the dog, Walking Home, and Chinese Tourist) in 6 cannoes, one kayak, one rubber Walmart Raft and one tube with a cooler lashed to it.

We are not expert canoers. We are not guides or in any way professionals. We did not elect leaders, or elect to call ourselves leaders of the AquaBlaze we organized, but chose the democratic route instead - which, of course, made our progress much slower as all 15 people (and 3 dogs) had to have their say in every decision.

After spending 8 or 9 hours packing up the YMCA, loading and moving the boats, and a brief safety discussion (this is a throw line, please wear your life vests or keep them close), we finally were in position to get on the water and, of course, it started to thunder and lightening. We waited till it stopped and, though it was still raining and it was already 5 p.m., we disembarked. It became immediately obvious that we were in for a long and perilous paddle. After managing to float, paddle and drag our boats downstream for about five miles (the South river being significantly less deep than we had hoped), we made camp across from a cow pasture and ate a huge communal pot of pseudo-Pad Thai. One day down, so far so good. The only casualty was Danger Muffin, who slipped while guiding a boat in to shore and was subsequently run over by said boat. She was soaked but uninjured, but the earlier rain had dashed any hopes we had about staying dry anyway.

We spent the next day dragging our way down the river, keeping our spirits up by reminding ourselves that the South Fork was only 12 miles away. We hoped to make it all the way, but the water was shallow, the 15 of us didn't get all on the water until 12, the yellow raft wasn't really working out (in that we were carrying all their stuff and we were towing them by the end of the day because they couldn't keep up), and we discovered that Jr.'s boat, which he had borrowed from his neighbor's backyard where it was literally growing weeds, had a propensity for leaking. We also were spread miles apart from each other on the river. We didn't make any "rules" before disembarking, so the more... motivated members of our crew departed at least a half hour before the last people, and as they were more motivated, made more progess in less time. Luckily, they thought to stop 3 hours before sunset, so last-in-line caught them right before dark. They told us they had stopped at a seemingly abandonded field to camp when a dude with a shotgun walked up. Yes, literally. He asked (politely) "What are you doing on my property?" They explained we were thru-hikers on an AquaBlaze, and all that entails. He said that he only lets people camp on his property if they ask permission. Luckily, first in line were 2 cute and pursuasive girls and 2 quiet guys (who didn't mention the other 11 behind them), which may have had something to do with the fact that they obtained permission to stay. We took this as a hint and asked for permission from the closest house from then on. Turns out the shotgun was for gophers. Made it about 10 miles down the river.

Next day we established that each boat should be at least in eye-contact with the boat ahead and behind, and made it to the South Fork of the Shenandoah River around noon (didn't leave til 12 again), which was everything we hoped it could be - wide and DEEP! We can actually paddle for longer than 10 minute stretches!! We stopped at Elkton, a small town at the junction of the two rivers, which was also listed in the Appalachian Pages as a possible resupply town. Most of the crew took off to buy beer - a necessary luxury of the AquaBlaze that is simply impossible on the WhiteBlaze - and mending materials for Jr.'s "Fail Boat", while 4 of us waited with the boats. We discussed our current lack of progress, and decided that we would present to the group that we should perhaps set a disembark time of 9 a.m. and have a 7 a.m. wake-up call from someone who is morning-inclined. An hour or so later, some returned with pizza and beer. An hour or so after that, Goucha and Ezra returned from the remaining part of the crew. Apparently, it was quite a long walk to the hardware store and, upon arrival, most of them simply could not resist the mexican restaurant located conveniently next door. Goucha and Ezra couldn't bring themselves to sit down to margaritas with ice and be waited on in air conditioning while the rest of us sat, unknowingly, guarding the boats on this hot, humid day, so they returned to tell us what the rest were up to... and as my blood began to boil, Goucha sat down next to me in the canoe, looked me in the eye, and calmly told me that she and Ezra had been discussing leaving the Aqua Blaze so that there would be room for all. And I, Graveyard (can you figure out where we switched? haha a game!), was furious. Not at Goucha and Ezra, of course, but at the margarita drinkers and, particularly, the pirates. For now they were truly pirating their way into our boats.

Without asking for specific reasons why they were unhappy with our current situation (I could pretty much guess it was the late starts, the lack of progress, and the mexican situation), I told them that I would rather tell the pirates to peace out, it's been fun, but it's really not working out; that we had just been discussing the fact that we need to get up earlier; that the South Fork would be easier and quicker than the South River had been; that I would be so sad to see either of them go; but that, as we have people to fill their places, they do not have to stay, that they should think about what I said and that they should do "whatever floats your boat". Ha. Ha. Ezra decided to stay (I doubt he really wanted to go, except to make room for the others). Goucha decided to go. "Sorry, Gravey, but I've gotta hike my own hike, yano?" I did. She was up and ready to go every morning before anyone else even got up. And I don't think she was a huge fan of people pounding beers with breakfast. But that's neither here nor there. She left immediately; threw her pack on her back and hitched out of Elkton and back to the White Blaze.

And then the margarita-men drifted back. Dugout, Jr., Wheels, and Cookie came first. DizzyBat, who had been waiting with me from the start, got Mexican from Dug, so she wasn't mad anymore and told Dugout that we felt...shafted? Thinking she was mad at him, he got defensive with his female companion, until I interrupted with a few harsh words about margaritas on the rocks and Goucha leaving us and stormed away... well... to a different canoe, less than 5 feet away, but I think I made my point. He shut up, anyway. 10 minutes or so later he snuck over with an apology beer for me, which was more than enough to quench my rage and bring on the guilt for yelling, so I gave him a big hug and told him I was more mad about Goucha, which wasn't his fault, than the margaritas. He was quickly followed by Wheels, who sheepishly muttered "sorry if I made you angry..." like a puppy with his tail between his legs, at which point I couldn't help but laugh, and it was done. Chinese and Walking Home, our friendly neighborhood pirates, arrived next, with Subway for the ones who had stayed with the boats. I (pretty coolly) told them I had eaten pizza brought back 2 hours ago, that Goucha was leaving, but I appreciated the thought and perhaps I'd eat it later. Chinese asked why Goucha was leaving, and I told him what I had told her - that I would rather them leave than loose her - which he took quite well - but as she had opted to leave anyway, one of them got to canoe, hooray:) As I'd been able to say what frustrated me so to them, that was done as well.

We paddled on... didn't make it far as it was already 5 p.m. Walking Home, now alone in Fail Craft (the raft which was now sporting many gorilla-taped holes) being towed by Chinese and Danger Muffin (who had lost her paddling partner), Fail Boat continuing to sink, and the rest of the navy still doing well. That night we pulled up to a field, 2 guys and 2 girls went to find the house that owned it (Wheels could not believe the sweet-heart I unearthed for the job from under my tough-girl exterior, which I found highly entertaining), and we proceeded to drink heavily in the canoes pulled up to shore until dark. Made it about 6 miles down the river.

I, The Phlo (haha, switched again!) was unreasonably distressed after the departure of Goucha. Although I was in no way the leader of this rag-tag mob, I still felt a responsibility for having assembled this flotilla of doom, and the loss of one of our members was saddening, especially because we had only just reached the deeper, swifter waters of the Shenandoah. As we paddled on, I maintained a surly and generally silent demeanor until the end of the day, when we finally beached in a grassy area on the western shore of the river. Group morale seemed low, so we did the only reasonable thing and proceeded to sit in the beached canoes for several hours, drinking warm Budweiser. About halfway through the case of Budweiser, I managed to gracefully, and with much skill, fall into the river, climb out, and eat soggy Subway sandwiches and promptly fall asleep. I awoke the next morning to find that all of my beer had disappeared, and some scoundrel had replaced it with empties. Imagine my dismay (though not surprise) when Graveyard informed me that the scoundrel was... me. But, I was in good spirits, and no worse for the wear, and I even managed to conduct myself respectfully (except for the part where I climbed into the tent wearing all my wet clothes, soaking both our sleeping bags... whoops).

And so we paddled on, 233 years to the day after the signing of the Declaration of Independence. We did the wake up at 7, and were on the river by... 11. Oh, well, progress is progress. Walking Home, Chinese, and Danger Muffin opted to deflate Fail Craft in favor of a 3-person canoe, which worked out surprisingly well. We began the day in good spirits, sure we would accomplish many miles that day, and it seemed that we would... until we encountered our first class 2 rapid.

The thing about not having a professional along is you have no idea what's coming. We knew there was a Class 2 ahead somewhere. We thought it would be easy. No one knew the right path to take through the rapid. No one was wearing life jackets. We came upon two islands; the deepest route was to the far left, the shallowest to the far right, and the center looked like you'd end up dragging your boat. As we spent the first 3 days of our voyage doing that, we naturally thought the deepest route was the safest course. Chinese, “Floating” Home, and Danger Muffin went first, followed by The Phlo in the kayak. The threesome, with their added maneuverability and experience (Walking Home has spent much of his life on the water in kayaks, can't speak for the others, but they certainly always seemed to know what they were doing), made it through fine, as did the buoyant kayak, but they knew it had been a close call. The rapid dropped about five feet, and the clearest shoot appeared to be between 2 rocks about 8 feet apart from each other. However, the rushing water between the two hid the menace at the bottom – a huge rock, right in the center. They barely avoided it, and turned quickly to warn the next boat, but it was too late. DizzyBoat, containing DugOut, DizzyBat, and Einstein, hit it strait on, stopping them dead and throwing Einstein from the boat. The rushing current quickly swung the back end of the boat around, turning it sideways so that the top of the boat faced upstream, thus filling the boat with water, while the strong current rushing into the boat completely pinned it against the 2 sharp rocks they had been attempting to pass between. DizzyBat got knocked out of the boat, sucked under the boat, and out the rapid, thankfully uninjured, though in a state of complete shock. She surfaced to Einstein licking her face and being completely unhelpful, though he was also uninjured. The Phlo hopped out of his kayak near shore and pushed it off towards Dizzy Bat, which she used to steady herself and make her way to solid ground. DugOut managed to keep his seat and got out to attempt to free the boat. Meanwhile, TrioBoat stopped in a shallow part near the center. Chinese and Floating Home left to help DugOut; Danger Muffin held the boat in place and warned incoming canoers of impending doom.... or just take the center instead of the left through the islands. It was too late for Fail Boat; they had already passed the point of no return, but tried a different approach through the rapids, landing them grounded in the shallows farther left than DizzyBoat had approached. On the South River, that was not a problem; just get out and drag. Here, though, the current was much swifter, and it took them quite some time to free themselves. Plus, their sinking boat was full of water.

I was in a canoe with Cookie that day, and as we approached the islands, we could just make out Danger Muffin waving frantically, alone with a canoe and a kayak in the middle of the river. We couldn't really tell what she was signaling, though stop was definitely part of it. We took the center route, as we knew the others had gone left, though we couldn't see all the commotion because of the island in the way. We got through safely. Had to drag our canoe part way, but safely. The others followed us. We got down to Danger Muffin and saw that Einstein, soaking wet, was in the canoe, and turned around to see the boat, completely sideways in the water and being pried out by The Phlo, Chinese, Floating Home, DugOut, and 3 locals who happened to be fishing at the base of the rapid (thank goodness for small favors!), not to mention Jr. and Wheels struggling with their own stranded and flooding Fail Boat. The force of 7 men couldn't move it, so they started detaching the packs (read: all of Dizzy's and Dug's worldly possessions, everything they've needed or wanted for the last 3 months and will need again for the next 3) from the craft and throwing them downriver, where a dazed DizzyBat (now wearing a life jacket) could catch them. With less weight in the boat... they still couldn't make it budge. So they all moved to one end of the craft, and finally all 7 of them were able to force one end up and out of the water and over the rock... leaving the other side pinned still against this very sharp rock, with the current now bending the boat between the two. From my downriver vantage point, I could literally see the boat cracking in two; one long gash running down the side. I mean, this boat was bent. It was done. The Aqua Blaze was over.

To be continued.... (hahaha, it's not over yet)