the eighty second story

The original post- This is a drawing of me, towing a mostly sunken kayak with my mom's tiny dog perched on top, with two paddles under my opposite arm. My tent, sleeping pad, food, phone and camera are all in the underwater portion of the boat.

The requested "news at 11" full version-
My mom and I decided to, with no planning whatsoever, do an overnight kayak trip. We looked at a google satellite image of our prospective route, noticed that "well, most of it's doable, I think" and figured we go for it. We packed up our stuff (including a borrowed camping hammock, sleeping bag, and stove for making tea). We went to the grocery and purchased hard cheese, salami, and granola. I had already left my car at the  end point, just in case, and so we drove to the putting in point. The satellite images we thought were ok were on the potomac, and the putting in point was about 500 yards up the Shenandoah from our desired river. This was a mistake. The Shenandoah is rocky. We put in anyway. In the first set of rapids (not bad rapids, maybe class 1) the dog jumped off mom's boat, but I was able to veer aside and scoop her up with the little handle on the back of her tiny dog lifevest. her tiny dog lifevest is super cute.

We had gone about 50 yards.

I handed the dog back, but I'd taken on a little water. We hit the second set of rapids (class 2 or so- challenging, but not scary) I took on more water. we hit a flat area, my mom asked how I was doing, and I joked that I was sinking. Then there were some more little rapids, but, already being low in the water- I took on yet more- and my boat sank. It actually sank. This, by the way, is what a panicking Kest sounds like- normal voice "ah, Mom? Mom, I don't know what to do here. What do I do here, Mom?" My mom, being the awesome person she is, looked over, saw my torso sticking out of the water, and me flapping at the water with my hands, and calmly told me to get out of the boat and tow it to a rock. I did so, and got my feet against said rock, but the current was still fast and I couldn't really pull the boat up, so in a continuation of what a panicked Kest sounds like (still in a normal voice) "ah- if it is possible to do so, could you maybe hurry?". We got the boat up. We dumped it out. We took the electronics out of the drybag that had not kept them dry. I took the batteries out and set all the parts in the sun. We sat there for a few minutes. Mom asked what the plan was. I responded that the plan was that next time I said I thought I was sinking, we were to pull over immediately. Mom decided put the dog's leash on and loop it around her leg, so the little one wouldn't jump out again, as we could no longer count on having me, in the back, be able to scoop her. We repacked, got back in our boats, and continued.

We had gone about 200 yards.

Ahead of us were yet more pretty good rapids, but we were doing better. I was about 4/5 through when I saw mom's boat overturn. I backpaddled long enough to first look for the dog, and then her- both heads were above water, and they were together, but then I was at some real high waves, and there wasn't going to be anything i could do if I went down, so I concentrated on getting through. That done, I turned to my mom, called that I was coming for the dog so she could get her boat, and then I promptly sank again. Mom managed to put the dog and her paddle on a rock, no bigger than three square feet above water, and then she went for her boat. I swam towards the rock, towing my once again sunken boat. I managed to stretch way out and grab a stump on the rock as I was swept past, but I could not pull the boat back up river to get myself onto the rock. Stretched full length, with the boat in one hand and the rock in the other, the dog made the poor decision that I was a better bet, and climbed onto my head.

I need more illustrations. This moment should be illustrated.

Mom had, by now, gotten her boat, and put it on a rock about 20 yards downstream. She shouted that she was coming back to help, and I waited a little, but she clearly was not gonna make it against that current. Finally I just grabbed the dog and let go the rock. But now I've got two paddles under one arm, the dog's leash looped over the other arm, and the hand of said other arm towing the sunken kayak. I can only swim with my feet, i'm wearing not very tight sandals, and the dog REALLY wants to go to shore. The fact of the matter is that the dog's chosen direction, despite her being only ten pounds, is pulling me way off course. So I tried to put her on the small portion of the boat which was above water. Now, it turns out that, if you have no training in such activites, lifting a ten pound struggling weight over your head without losing the two paddles tucked under your arm while treading water in sandals and being swept swept downstream at a fast clip is REALLY hard. By the time I pulled it off I was half drowned and most of the way to mom. I shouted at her that the dog and the boat were her responsibility (she was less than eight feet from them, and I got myself and my paddles to the rock. She caught them, and brought them to the next rock over. We, all three, passed out in the sun.

We had gone no more than 400 yards from the launch.



At this point, The dog is terrified of rapids. I'm nervous of them, what with the sinking. Mom's still good, or at least faking it really well. We discuss whether we will continue or not. Mom says we have no other option so we'd better. I point out that we've gone less than a mile and can walk back to her car. I also point out that we are very nearly to the Potomac, and I think that maybe it will get better after that. We decide to continue on.

the Seventy Eight Story

A conversation I had yesterday with my mother, as overheard by
Caitlin, just for amusement:

"I don't know what you're going to do with the stump,
either...standing that thing up might be harder than getting rid of
it...yes, that would be wonderful... oh, even better!...like the
throne up in cambridge?... I love it... even if they can't stand it
up, maybe they could carve it into a low bench... what?!... I've never
even used a chainsaw...yes,yes...I know you have, but cutting limbs
off a tree is entirely different than a plunge cut... mum, this is a
terrible idea... mum, wait, mum... no, MUM! we will lose limbs...I
can't think of a way to do it without a plunge cut... I'll look at it
when I come visit."

Caitlin's reaction: "It's so great that your mother has so much confidence in you!"

the Forty Sixth Story

When I was a tiny thing, I was afraid of snakes. My mother was not the type to accept unreasonable fear, so she decided that she was gonna break me of that one by catching one of those pretty little green grass snakes and bringing it in for me to play with. She caught it fine, and brought it in, but when she went to show it to me, it bit her. They don't have teeth, but they do have sharp grinding plates and powerful jaws- she ended up yelling and waving her hands in the air, with this long streamer of bright green snake flying out behind one of them. It was hilarious. Pretty much cured me of my fear of snakes, though I do still have a healthy respect for the big ones.

The thirty first story

Today: A story from when my parents were dating- this one has been independently verified by both parties, and they're very differently styled storytellers, so I believe that this story is true in all its details.
My Dad is Jewish. My Mom is... not. Who knows what she is- she was raised some branch of protestant, and believes in santa claus, but not in god. Regardless, she loves Christmas. For a long time during their courtship, my Dad worked for the army and lived in a shack in the Arizona desert. Mom wasn't a desert person, but she would visit regularly. One of these times she arrived very very late on christmas eve. Dad didn't have a tree. Mom was upset. I get different ideas of how upset from each of them- Dad says she was reasonable, she says she was not. Regardless, the end result was Dad, breaking into the base to steal a christmas tree from the lot, tossing it back out over the barbed wire topped fence.

The Twenty Eighth Story

My brother went to Japan for several years after graduating from college. The first Christmas he was gone, my mother and I flew to Thailand to meet up with him and his then girlfriend, Vika. There are lots of stories that come from that trip (the one about the hiking boots and lack thereof originates here). This is just a short aside, though. It is easy to lose track of days when traveling; Mom was more alert than the rest of us. Christmas morning found us on a plane on or way to Phuket. Mom pulled a tiny fake pine tree out of her carry-on and started singing christmas carols in the middle of the flight.

the fourteenth story

Been a bit, here's another short, unedited story.
In Mali, with my mom, we went on a walk through the Dogon country. At one point, we dropped off our packs in one village and walked to another- Mamadu knew I was a metalsmith and wanted to introduce me to the blacksmith. On the way back, Mamadu looked at the sky, and casually said "maybe we should hurry". Mom and I thought very little of it, he seemed so relaxed about the idea; and while we didn't stop to take pictures, we didn't really hurry, either. After about fifteen minutes, Mamadu looked at the sky again, and said, in his same, relaxed manner "Maybe we should hurry". Mom and I started walking faster, but the rocks were tall, and climbing not easy, so we still weren't making good time compared to what Mamadu would do on his own. About half way home, Mamadu looked at the sky again and said, with respect but a bit of an annoyed edge "Maybe we should hurry". Mom and I got the point, and started moving as fast as we really easily could. Then, about 3/4 of the way there, Mamadu looked at the sky, grabbed my bag and said "Maybe we should hurry", and started helping shove us up rocks. Within sight of the village, but with one very large dropoff left to go, Mamadu looked at the sky and said "Maybe we should hurry" Only then did mom and I see what he had seen over an hour before- a black wall. We started clambering down the cliff. Mom, who has always been more comfortable with down than I, took my camera, and all three of us entered into the downward climb at a speed that makes more sense as a partially controlled fall. We made it to the bottom just as the sand hit. I grabbed my camera back and wrapped it in my hastily removed headscarf, and we started trying to run for the village, totally blind. Just as we made it to the village, the sand stopped, and the rain hit. Newly exfoliated, we sat in our lovely mud hut, built with its back to the direction of the wind, and watched waterfalls form on the rock walls of the valley.

the twelth story is so short it is almost a haiku

Exhaustion and a very very very short story:

3 miles, straight out, against the tide in a kayak no intended for the ocean is really quite the workout. But, there is a peregrine falcon nest on the breakwater.

the tenth story is very short

Today: woke up, had a good breakfast, went swimming in the ocean, kayaked for four hours, swam in a pool, came home, had dinner, went back out to a carnival, danced foolishly with my mom, rode the giant slide, and had freshly made cotton candy.

the fifth story

Another story: Traveling with my mother in northern Thailand, we went on a five day walk. I honestly do not remember the purpose. What I do remember is that I had brand new, non-broken in hiking boots. I was young and stupid, and had not realized how bad an idea this was. In the first four hours, I developed a blister on my left heel with a diameter of almost two inches. This made it impossible to keep walking, not only in those boots, but in any shoes at all. I did the rest of the trip barefoot, which won me more young Thai friends than anything else I could have done as a 19 year old tourist. I got to play barefoot soccer at the top of a mountain (I was NOT the person who kicked the ball off the court, nor was I the person who managed to catch up to it, but I did go careening down the hill after it with the rest of the boys), and at the one point where I couldn't easily walk barefoot- there were very sharp burs on the path- I shared a pair of flipflops with a local young fellow. He would walk about 10 yards, clear a spot to stand on, and throw them to me, I would walk about 10 yards past him, clear a spot to stand on, and throw them back to him, etc. We had a grand time, and I was very happy to be free of boots in that weather, anyway.