As you know, my heart lives in Barkerville British Columbia. This past summer while I was there, me and my BarkervilleBestie Amber talked a lot. And one day in July - when it full out snowed, I was telling her about how in Kamloops it gets to be 40 degrees and sometimes we like to blow up air mattresses and inner tubes and float down the river. Like this:
It was a wonderful memory to share with Amber that snowy, cold JULY day. We thought to ourselves, "if only it was warm here, and if only there was a river we could float down on one of the 3 summer days that Wells/Barkerville gets." Then we remembered. There was a river. Well.... a creek really. But it was totally wide enough for us to float down (we thought) and would be deep enough to support our little blow-up fishing boat (we thought). So the plan was hatched. One day, before the end of August when I left, we would put her boat in the river/creek half way between Wells and Barkerville and float into Wells where we would climb out, walk the boat home and then pick up her truck.Days passed. Summer came and went - on the same day nonetheless - and we never got around to floating down the river. Finally, on one of my last nights, we packed our bug spray, bear spray, and sweaters and loaded the boat. The river was four or five feet deep where we put in, and about 4 m wide. Wide and deep and fast flowing enough for us to float comfortably. For about 20 meters anyways.
The river was narrow and we often hit the sides. Especially when the banks would narrow, the water would rush quickly and a hairpin curve was ahead. It was more like... bumper boats... than anything else. We would laugh. We ran into low trees, we hit the banks often, and then the river would widen, and the water would get shallow. We would yell "BUM'S UP" and lift our butts of the bottom of the boat that was now scraping bottom. Sometimes it worked, more often than not one of us would get out and pull us to deeper water.
It was a ridiculous gong show.
But we laughed. Oh we laughed.
For about 90 minutes.
Then we realized that this boat trip was taking F.O.R.E.V.E.R. The lights from town were not getting any closer. It was getting darker and colder and less fun to struggle through the bog. We still laughed a lot, but the ridiculousness of the situation was less hilarious as time passed.
After 2.5 hours the lights of town were close. After 2.75 hours the lights from town were farther away and behind us. We had missed the turn off and were now heading for Quesnel. Our options were to turn the boat around and paddle against the current, or pull out and walk through the bog back to town.
We chose the second option.
AKA the wrong option.
With much difficulty (and me fully falling in the river up to my chest) we pulled the boat out of the river and walked with it approximately 2 meters through thick brush and swamp before abandoning it. Part of the difficulty was the terrain, most of the difficulty was our inability to stop laughing. It took us a further 30 minutes to stomp through calf-high stinky swamp mud OR crawl over 8 foot tall bushes. We lost our shoes I don't know how many times. We fell down a million, we screamed a lot, we laughed even more, we got a bit worried about meeting a moose or a bear, our legs and arms were scratched beyond recognition. But we made it out eventually. The boat remains lost to the bog to this day. It was a ridiculous adventure. But so ridiculous that it was hilarious.
(This is why it took so long. It's not a nice straight line. It's obnoxiously wiggly)
No comments:
Post a Comment