OKC Kayak Word Soup

Photos from huge demo day held Wednesday.  Pro kayakers Jordan and Skyler Stoner show off some stunts!

So you accidentally clicked on the blog link, did you?  Boy, what a mistake you just made.  This is usually the place for all sorts of nonsense, very little of which actually pertains to kayaking.  This weird guy updates it (rather sporadically lately) from time to time, usually ranting or raving about something.  Quite frankly, you probably are better off clicking the back button.  Oh, well, you decide!

Missed me, didn’t you?  Sorry for the hiatus.  It has been just a wee bit crazy around here this spring.

As some of you may have heard, I recently got to check one off the bucket list.  Yeah, bucket list!  Ya know that list of things that we are going to do before we die so that we have lived a life which is a little more fulfilled, and a little less in the regrets column.  You know, that Mark Twain quote that my friends Kev and Jodi have on their bathroom wall, “Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did, so throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor, catch the trade winds in your sails, EXPLORE, DREAM, DISCOVER.”

Thanks Mark, we will.

Twenty years!  Yep, twenty.  That is the number of years the waiting list for the Grand Canyon private boating permit exceeds!  Ever since I read an article in National Geographic which rated Rafting the Grand Canyon as the number one adventure in all of North America, I have been dreaming of this ever since.  But, because of the length of the wait, this had always remained pretty much exclusively in the dream column.  (Remember what sets apart a dream from a goal?)  It was always, “Someday I will get my name on the waiting list,” or some other lame explanation for my lack of action on this item.  Early March, all of this would abruptly change.

I had just hung up the phone, call it Karma if you will, but the news I had just been delivered was causing me to schedule a checkup with the ear doctor.  My palms were instantly sweaty.  The mother of all rafting and kayaking trips had just landed in my lap quite unexpectedly, and I was still trying to figure out what I should do with this.  “GGGGGrand CCannnyon?” I queried my San Diego caller, Angela.  I totally expected her to retort, “No, Grand Caimen,” you big dummy.  Yep, I heard right.  She and a friend had both been on the waiting list since I was a teenager.  They combined their time, got a permit, and were canyon bound.  I instantly was jealous.  How could she do this to me.  She knew my love.    ….but, but, but, Angela!!!  Whoops, she was invited me to join her.  (sound of toilet paper roll spinning faster than a wheel in a cage of a hamster.)

Now folks, kayak guides are some of the brokest dudes (and ladies) on the face of this planet, and this trip was going to cost some serious bling.  Furthurmore, their permit dates were in a handful of weeks, I was out of shape, and this was no time to be away from the busy kayak shop.  I WAS WAY IN!!!  It suddenly got even better because another favorite friend of mine, Kevin the webmaster was also planning to go.

Logistically, I could not be gone the entire twenty one days that the entire group was planning to be gone.  They would be doing the bulk majority of the canyon, rafting and kayaking from Lees Ferry to Diamond Creek.  As luck would have it, two of the gals on the trip had to return to college after the first week, opening up a spot for Kevin and I to hike down from the South Rim and meet the group already underway at Phantom Ranch.

Way too many Dr. Pepper’s and donut shop runs have graced the last 33 years of my life so, the physical training began as soon as I hung up the phone.  Time was of the essence, and not a lot of it existed before the trip was to begin.  Mercy Hospital is next door to my house, so I began a daily (sometimes a couple times a day) routine of climbing all ten flights of stairs, five times in a row.  The first few times I did this, I wished to die.  (Better to nearly die in the hospital than the canyon, right?)

My brief training would pay dividends on the 10 mile hike down from the South Rim.  There is a mile elevation change from the top of the rim to the bottom of the canyon.  It was 22 degrees with snow on the rim, yet I was hiking in nothing but my backpack and bathing suit by the time we hit the halfway mark.  (Kevin took all the photos on the way down, because I had yet to figure out that my battery was in my new camera backwards.)  Kevin will insert a photo or two here from his remote home in San Diego.  Right Kev?  After all, he is the one who bugs me about adding photos to the blog.  Keep in mind that he is likely to show you this ridiculous photo of me in a red bathing suit with goofy wool socks, and more.  This was because, everything we brought in had to be carried on our backs.  We were packing minimally, and we still had 36 pound bags on our shoulders.  Every item counted.

Alright, here is how this is going to work.  I am signing off for the moonlight paddle.  You check back again in a day or two, and I will write some more.  Otherwise you are going to get a watered down, less than funny version of the canyon that was done in a rush.  Agreed?  Good!  Now, come back tomorrow, and I will divulge all about the German girl.