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Wednesday, May 07, 2003

OK. So. My river trip....

well...(i don't feel like doing caps right now)..we left laramie on friday at about 6:30pm. for a 3 night trip o' rafting on the Green River (ok, some caps) in Utah. just below the flaming gorge dam(n). me, my boss (paul), and my good ol' pal bret schacht, whom ive known since 'the day.' (1979-ish). it took....forrrrreeeeeeevvvvvvvvverrrrrrrrrrrr to get to rock springs, redneck capital of southwest wyoming. after eating at an ok truck stop (dirty pete's, or crazy bob's, or silly sam's, something like that), we continued southward on 191 to roundabouts dutch john. found a state campground, pitched our sleeping bags out amongst the junipers, and risked it. didnt rain. purdy stars to see. bret had a centipede in his sleeping bag when he woke up. those things make me nervous.
then we struck out for the put-in. well, there was a long interval first. breakfast at a greasy spoon/gas station/fly store. got licenses and all that. then headed for the put in, blew up the boats (1 14' raft, 1 14' solo inflatable kayak). paul brought lots of stuff, including (and this is how white we are) one of those roll up table things. it was just silly. there were lots and lots and lots of dumb colorado guys (what we call "greenies" in wyoming, cuz of their license plates, and cuz you have to have a derogatory nickname for people that suck that much), sitting around, being fat and dumb. in our way. a guy almost ditched his SUV in the river. stupid bastard colorado people. took forever to get launched. then we did. we drifted down the river...chilly. rainy. windy. but fun. bret got his arse soaked way bad in the kayak, and near to caught death. not really. but he seemed cold to look at.
i caught a number of fishies. some on pete's good ol' flies. paul caught some. on his zebco.
we stopped, reserved a campsite, and then floated on. arrived at the campsite mid-day. set up camp, did some fishin. it was a cool campsite - i'll try to get pictures on here somehow, someday. then, regrettably, we realized that we (meaning bret) left the whisky in the back seat of the truck. george dickel's number 12. cava mal.
well, we hung out there for a couple days. fishin. sittin. nappin. spittin. eatin. lots. good times. caught lots of fish. or a decent amount anyways..up to 18." brown trout. lots o' fun. purdyfish.
then, monday morning, we packed up camp, i boarded the kayak, and proceeded to soak my privates and rear with icy cold water in the rapids. not too rapid, though, really. i was wishing for tougher. sunny day. beautious.

took out at about 4, i think. took a celebratory swig of the dickel, and started the long, stupid, stupid, journey home.

i may have left out some details. like the pooping-in-the-open-air part. i usually enjoy it, but there were no decent trees to sit over. its hard.

anyway. back to the stupidness that is life.

sort of a relief to get back on my 3-hour/night sleeping schedule. can't handle that 7 or 8-hour/night stuff.

and uh. here i am. at work. werk. stupid.

no worse for the wear. no better, maybe.

i wanna get a raft. $5000 though. maybe i could build one. with logs. like huck fin. worked ok for him. just sweep down the river in a 50 foot wide log-jam of a raft, crashing into and dislodging boulders. scatterin' greenies in their fancy-pants drift boats hither and yon. yawn. whatever.

did i mention im really lazy?

-m




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