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< November/December 2004
	Paddle Tales
Different Strokes for Different Folks The subtle differences of tandem paddling Joe Neill

Dear Jim: Christine and I had a great weekend adventure reconnecting with nature. The Umpqua River was a short drive from home, and promised no smog, telephones, traffic, or e-mail.

Dear Merrily: Jake suggested we have a weekend of romance on a river, snuggling on a blanket. I mentioned we would miss "Everybody Loves Raymond" if we were not home by 8:00 on Sunday.

We could camp on the bank on the Bureau of Land Management property and be home Sunday night for "Everybody Loves Raymond." This would be a great chance to reconnect with nature.

This was a new experience for me. I’m connected with my senses even if I grew up in a big city; I can tell a Victoria’s Secret from a food court with my eyes closed. I never understood why guys think you have to risk your life to "connect with nature."

The water was perfectly flat with a ghosting mist drifting in patches as we launched with clear sky and a warming sun rising over the hilltop.

We had to get up so early to get there. It wasn’t like the river would vanish if we arrived a little later.

I warned her that the biggest danger was sunburn and slipping on the rocks while getting into the canoe. As she got more comfortable paddling we could discuss strainers, keepers and ledges. I would wait until later to mention snakes, ticks and scorpions.

Jake said even walking on rocks and getting into that damn boat was dangerous, not to mention skin cancer. I was sure the snakes and bugs were just waiting to find a section of unprotected skin.

I began with a quick introduction to paddling. I explained the simplest of strokes, properly rotating the torso, planting the blade, pulling, feathering and recovering for the next stroke.

He made everything so complicated, inventing strange names for everything. Even the stupid oar had five different parts. I couldn’t even stick it in the water without him telling me to rotate.

I couldn’t wait to see Christine’s grin as we reached the whitewater, riding nature’s roller coaster past eddies and over little standing waves.

I could hear the roar of falling water. I turned around and he had this possessed satanic grin on his face. I was wondering how much longer I had to live before reaching the waterfall.

We stopped for lunch and I explained we needed to keep food odors away from our clothes to discourage bear attacks. I really could have used an "undo button" to take that statement back. I tried to explain there were more people murdered by muggers than eaten by bears.

I told him at least in the city there are police to protect you from muggers. How was he so sure there would not be any killers on the river? Wasn’t he the one that hauled me to that Meryl Streep movie?

I assured her that the movie River Wild was hokey Hollywood. I started to bring up how the canoe capsize scene in Deliverance was a preposterous fake, but decided not to go there. I spread out a lunch of granola bars, hard-boiled eggs, salt and dried apples. The beauty was overwhelming, a quarter mile of polished river stones next to a flowing river that begins as snow high up in the Cascades.

He warned me that scorpions and snakes hide under rocks, then he sets our "lunch" down in the middle of a big pile of rocks. How could I eat his poor excuse for a lunch while holding a snake stick in one hand and a scorpion stick in the other?

I couldn’t help laughing at her poking every rock with a stick. I thought everyone knew scorpions and rattlers don’t live on gravel bars.

He laughed at me, because I was supposed to know scorpions and rattlers don’t like soggy gravel bars.

After lunch I suggested we adjust the trim of the canoe and have her kneel behind her seat. I explained this would make the bow ride higher in the standing waves following the chute ahead. For some reason she was a little hostile.

He suggested I kneel in the puddle of water on the floor of the boat, and then made some crazy comment about standing up to wave while someone tried to shoot.

It was a perfect weekend adventure. I can’t wait to take her on an extended two-week paddle.

Love,

Jake

Even a bad hotel is better than a great campsite. I will never again tempt death as entertainment.

Love,

Christine