At the beginning of every trip, our guests get to participate in a fun, little game known as the raft guide lottery. Some guests win and get a nice, normal guide with extensive knowledge of paddling, history, flora, and fauna. Some guests lose and get me. I tell jokes. Bad jokes. And lots of them. Even worse, one of the first things I tell my guests is this: The more you participate in my jokes, the more I will participate in your rescue.
A few of my nuttier guests actually enjoy my jokes. One even suggested that I publish a book of them! Somehow, I don't see that happening, but I will share some of them here.
What's the difference between a raft guide and Sasquatch?
One's dirty, lives in the woods, and doesn't shave or shower. The other one's a myth!
What's the difference between a raft guide and a catfish?
One's a dirty, scum-sucking bottom-feeder with whiskers. The other one's a fish!
Did you hear the one about the corduroy pillow?
No? Really? It made headlines!
Did you hear the one about the three holes?
Well, well, well!
For the Star Wars fans: Why did the storm trooper buy an iPhone?
Because he couldn't find the Droid he wanted!
How do you hide a five-dollar bill from a raft guide?
Under a bar of soap!
How do you hide a fifty-dollar bill from a raft guide?
You don't need to, they've never seen one!
How many raft guides does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A) None, they can't afford electricity!
B) Two, one to screw it in and one to talk about how big the hole was!
C) Nine, one to hold the bulb, four to go all forward, and four to go all back!
What do you call a fish with eight eyes?
Fiiiiiiiiish!
What do you call a fish with no eyes?
Fsh!
What's the difference between a raft guide and a 401K?
The 401K will eventually mature and make money!
What's the difference between a raft guide and a pizza?
A pizza can feed a family of four!
What does a raft guide and a pizza with extra cheese have in common?
Extra cheese!
What do you call a raft guide without a boyfriend?
Homeless!
I could go on, but I'm pretty sure you're already cringing. Anyone want to go down the river with me now?
Monday, July 21, 2014
Throwing Boats
Oftentimes I wish that all being a river guide involved was just paddling. Unfortunately, we do a lot more work than take a few strokes here and there as a raft floats downriver. One of our responsibilities is throwing boats.
When a trip ends, the boats pull into an area called back beach. Early in the day, the boats are loaded onto the tops of buses to be driven upriver to the put-in and re-used. Later in the day, the boats are deflated and quite literally thrown onto trailers. It takes two people throw the boat, either popping it up or, if it's small enough, swinging it over. Two more people are required to catch the boat and position it atop the stack. The stacks of boats get so big, you have to climb up them in order to continue catching boats.
The work is exhausting, particularly after a full day of rafting, and few people enjoy it. Personally, I can barely do it. I can only lift so many boats so high above my head for so long, though I am a lot stronger than I used to be.
In any case, life in rafting land is not all work and no play. On Friday nights, there's a bluegrass singer at a local bar and raft guides flock there to drink and dance. I was there a few weeks ago, and I danced a few songs with a fellow guide. The songs were long, and the music required a substantial amount of quick-steps and spinning. I'll admit it was tiring. My friend felt the same. When we sat down, he leaned over and said, "Man, that was like throwing boats!"
I suppose I should be offended, but I really think it's a great line.
When a trip ends, the boats pull into an area called back beach. Early in the day, the boats are loaded onto the tops of buses to be driven upriver to the put-in and re-used. Later in the day, the boats are deflated and quite literally thrown onto trailers. It takes two people throw the boat, either popping it up or, if it's small enough, swinging it over. Two more people are required to catch the boat and position it atop the stack. The stacks of boats get so big, you have to climb up them in order to continue catching boats.
The work is exhausting, particularly after a full day of rafting, and few people enjoy it. Personally, I can barely do it. I can only lift so many boats so high above my head for so long, though I am a lot stronger than I used to be.
In any case, life in rafting land is not all work and no play. On Friday nights, there's a bluegrass singer at a local bar and raft guides flock there to drink and dance. I was there a few weeks ago, and I danced a few songs with a fellow guide. The songs were long, and the music required a substantial amount of quick-steps and spinning. I'll admit it was tiring. My friend felt the same. When we sat down, he leaned over and said, "Man, that was like throwing boats!"
I suppose I should be offended, but I really think it's a great line.
Running Stack
The largest rapid on the Nantahala River comes right at the very end. Just before it begins, there is a concrete beach. Boaters who do not wish to run the rapid, known as Nantahala Falls or, more commonly, the Falls, pull off at the concrete beach. If they are NOC rental guests, they just leave their boat right there and walk back to campus. At the end of the day, a staff person from NOC goes up to the beach, collects the boats, and runs them through the Falls. This is called running stack. Today, for the first time, that staff person was me.
Actually, there were two of us charged with running stack. We walked up to the beach and found two double duckies (inflatable kayaks). We had two choices. One: each take a single double duck, or two: use of fancy-schmancy Prussic loops to rig the boats together and go down paddling one double duck, with the other trailing behind. Given our firm commitment to making everything as difficult as possible, we went with option two.
The top of the Falls went fine. We floated past Billboard Rock, narrowly missed Block Rock, avoided Island Hole like champs, and veered into the wave train just like we were guiding a raft. Then we dipped our nose into Top Hole to catch the Green Tongue, and that's when the trouble started.
While the ducky we were paddling started to slide in the right direction, the duck we were towing was sucked into Top Hole, and suddenly, so were we. The duck behind us was suddenly on top of us, and in spite of vigorous paddling, our duck was going nowhere. We were stuck. It was only a matter of time before the water overwhelmed us, flipped our boat, and we swam the falls.
Except that didn't happen. By some miracle, Top Hole let us go and we slid down the falls to Bottom Hole. Now we had a different problem. Instead of hitting the hole head-on, we veered into it sideways. Hitting anything sideways is an easy way to enjoy an out-of-boat experience, but I was in no mood for a swim. I leaned hard upstream, so hard I was practically horizontal, and that did the trick. We were out of the falls, both ducks gliding downstream like nothing had gone wrong, and guides who had watched the whole thing shaking their heads.
Was that a fun experience? Not really, but it makes for quite the story.
Actually, there were two of us charged with running stack. We walked up to the beach and found two double duckies (inflatable kayaks). We had two choices. One: each take a single double duck, or two: use of fancy-schmancy Prussic loops to rig the boats together and go down paddling one double duck, with the other trailing behind. Given our firm commitment to making everything as difficult as possible, we went with option two.
The top of the Falls went fine. We floated past Billboard Rock, narrowly missed Block Rock, avoided Island Hole like champs, and veered into the wave train just like we were guiding a raft. Then we dipped our nose into Top Hole to catch the Green Tongue, and that's when the trouble started.
While the ducky we were paddling started to slide in the right direction, the duck we were towing was sucked into Top Hole, and suddenly, so were we. The duck behind us was suddenly on top of us, and in spite of vigorous paddling, our duck was going nowhere. We were stuck. It was only a matter of time before the water overwhelmed us, flipped our boat, and we swam the falls.
Except that didn't happen. By some miracle, Top Hole let us go and we slid down the falls to Bottom Hole. Now we had a different problem. Instead of hitting the hole head-on, we veered into it sideways. Hitting anything sideways is an easy way to enjoy an out-of-boat experience, but I was in no mood for a swim. I leaned hard upstream, so hard I was practically horizontal, and that did the trick. We were out of the falls, both ducks gliding downstream like nothing had gone wrong, and guides who had watched the whole thing shaking their heads.
Was that a fun experience? Not really, but it makes for quite the story.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Independence Day
Last year, I celebrated the Fourth of July at the residence of the US Ambassador to the UN Agencies in Rome. Sure, there were hamburgers, hot dogs, and a bluegrass band doing their very best Americana, but it wasn't truly American. This year's celebration, on the other hand, had AMERICA all over it.
To begin with, as we were loading cars to drive to a local lake for the party, one guy showed up wearing the Confederate flag as a cape. "It's not hate," he said, "It's heritage."
"Says the racist," replied someone else. Everyone let that slide, but the guy kept the cape on. No shame in the South.
Up at the lake, we had an enormous bonfire and a terrifying pyrotechnic display produced by highly untrained and possibly drunk amateurs. Nearly everyone wore plaid, there was a keg of home brew, and even though it was only in the mid-fifties, quite a number of folks wound up going for a swim. The National Anthem was sung, or slurred, on multiple occasions, and just about every time a firework went off, someone would shout, "America!" I finally began to understand why other countries are sometimes alarmed by the depth of our patriotism. It is cultish.
The party ended early, since most everyone had work in the morning, but judging by the mess we found the next day, it was quite the sizable shindig. Go big, or go home! AMERICA!
To begin with, as we were loading cars to drive to a local lake for the party, one guy showed up wearing the Confederate flag as a cape. "It's not hate," he said, "It's heritage."
"Says the racist," replied someone else. Everyone let that slide, but the guy kept the cape on. No shame in the South.
Up at the lake, we had an enormous bonfire and a terrifying pyrotechnic display produced by highly untrained and possibly drunk amateurs. Nearly everyone wore plaid, there was a keg of home brew, and even though it was only in the mid-fifties, quite a number of folks wound up going for a swim. The National Anthem was sung, or slurred, on multiple occasions, and just about every time a firework went off, someone would shout, "America!" I finally began to understand why other countries are sometimes alarmed by the depth of our patriotism. It is cultish.
The party ended early, since most everyone had work in the morning, but judging by the mess we found the next day, it was quite the sizable shindig. Go big, or go home! AMERICA!
Unusual Tips
The end of a trip is kind of an awkward time. On the one hand, it's crazy and busy. There are boats pulling ashore, people spilling onto the beach, paddles everywhere, gear being removed and tossed every which way. There are also a bunch of raft guides milling around, giving directions, answering questions, and uncomfortably waiting around to see if anyone will slip them a tip.
More frequently than many of us would like, guides do not receive cash. I've taken pictures with guests, gotten hugs, e-mail addresses, nice notes, and plenty of verbal gratitude, all of which is very nice, but kindness won't keep the lights on and you can't eat compliments.
But you can eat a watermelon, which is what one guide on a trip last week received in lieu of a cash tip. Hey, at least we can eat it!
Caloric Intake
A couple weeks ago, another raft guide mentioned to me that his biggest struggle with the job was caloric intake. I thought that was crazy. The guide lounge in the rafting center has an endless supply of granola bars. There are two restaurants and a store on campus. Both restaurants offer staff meals, and there's even a meal plan for lunch. How could caloric intake be a problem? There are calories available everywhere!
As it turns out, in spite of the abundance of food, caloric intake really is a problem. I learned this the hard way. A few days ago, I crawled out of bed and went to brush my teeth. Everything was fine, but when I put my toothbrush down on the sink, I started to feel dizzy. Really dizzy. Then I blacked out. I came to on the floor, in a pile of towels. Somewhat flustered, I wandered back to my cabin, and my roommate took me to the local urgent care center (where we ran into another raft guide with a back injury).
Anyways, I'm fine. I was dehydrated and my blood sugar was low. In other words, my caloric intake was insufficient, and my body just gave up. Looking back, that's not so surprising. Initially, my diet didn't change too much when I went from a poor grad student to a poor raft guide. I was never much of a breakfast person, usually too busy for lunch and then too tired for dinner. As a result, my diet was pretty much sandwiches and cereal.
Raft guides cannot live on sandwiches and cereal. For one thing, my job now involves more physical labor than anything I've ever done. My biceps are even bigger now than when I was hauling water in South Africa. Dry cereal could fuel me through many a late-night spent writing papers, but it's hardly substantial enough to support me through hours spent hauling boats around.
Another issue related to caloric intake is timing. Students can live off snacks because they have hours in the library to do nothing but graze and read. I do not have hours in one place. Turn-around between trips can be as short as fifteen minutes. I used to think that was hardly enough time to toss down a granola bar, but I've since learned. Now I use whatever downtime I have to eat and drink as much as I can bear. In fact, I'm writing this halfway through a big plate of nachos. Fringe benefits of being a raft guide: great tans and tons of food.
As it turns out, in spite of the abundance of food, caloric intake really is a problem. I learned this the hard way. A few days ago, I crawled out of bed and went to brush my teeth. Everything was fine, but when I put my toothbrush down on the sink, I started to feel dizzy. Really dizzy. Then I blacked out. I came to on the floor, in a pile of towels. Somewhat flustered, I wandered back to my cabin, and my roommate took me to the local urgent care center (where we ran into another raft guide with a back injury).
Anyways, I'm fine. I was dehydrated and my blood sugar was low. In other words, my caloric intake was insufficient, and my body just gave up. Looking back, that's not so surprising. Initially, my diet didn't change too much when I went from a poor grad student to a poor raft guide. I was never much of a breakfast person, usually too busy for lunch and then too tired for dinner. As a result, my diet was pretty much sandwiches and cereal.
Raft guides cannot live on sandwiches and cereal. For one thing, my job now involves more physical labor than anything I've ever done. My biceps are even bigger now than when I was hauling water in South Africa. Dry cereal could fuel me through many a late-night spent writing papers, but it's hardly substantial enough to support me through hours spent hauling boats around.
Another issue related to caloric intake is timing. Students can live off snacks because they have hours in the library to do nothing but graze and read. I do not have hours in one place. Turn-around between trips can be as short as fifteen minutes. I used to think that was hardly enough time to toss down a granola bar, but I've since learned. Now I use whatever downtime I have to eat and drink as much as I can bear. In fact, I'm writing this halfway through a big plate of nachos. Fringe benefits of being a raft guide: great tans and tons of food.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)