Walnuts On My Windshield - Issue #19

November 12, 2004

I am married to the king of spontaneity, and he has been very busy lately. Of course, he spends time every morning reading the Bible and praying. When his health is good (which it hasn't quite been for the past six weeks), he also runs in the mornings. He faithfully puts in 40 or so hours a week with his paying job, plus another 10-15 hours a week on Mission China. Generally, also he spends about six hours a week on the road to and from Springfield, for work and church. Given all that, it's been challenging for him to find ways to spend special times with the kids.

Last Friday, the king of spontaneity looked out the window and decided he would like to take Josiah canoeing. On the upper Buffalo River in Arkansas. On Saturday. This is not a minor undertaking, and there was a time when I would have said that it was a crazy and impractical idea. However, when you spend 17 years with the king of spontaneity, you learn to flex. I simply said, "that sounds like fun."

Scott and Josiah went into overdrive. Phone calls were made to determine river levels. The upper Buffalo is only floatable at certain times; generally in the spring or after a lot of rain. The Ozarks have had a lot of rain the past couple weeks, so that was a plus, but honestly, only die-hards go floating in NOVEMBER! The forecast was for the day to start in the 40s and eventually reach the 60s. Pretty chilly for floating if you ask me, but no big deal to those with excess testosterone.

Online research was done. Shuttle service was priced. The canoe was unhoisted from its perch in the toyport and loaded onto the trailer. Paddles were procured. At my insistence, a life jacket for Josiah was dug out. Food was packed, rope was found, water bottles were filled. I added sunscreen to the pile.

One aspect of canoeing is that canoes have an unnerving tendency to tip over. Regrettably, they never tip over in placid stretches of calm water. It's always happens when you are trying to navigate a rocky section of swirling rapids, and it always results in the passengers and their goods being tossed out into very fast-moving (and in November, very cold) water. Hence, it is important to secure items as much as possible. Scott realized that the likelihood of their navigating the full ten-mile stretch without getting wet was very unlikely, so he asked me to find a way for them to take some dry clothes and towels with them. Hmmmmm. . . . we finally came up with a gigantic zip-loc bag stuffed into an old backpack, which could be tied to the canoe.

All that preparation completed, the happy travelers departed at 8:00 AM on a 40-degree Saturday morning for the wilds of the upper Buffalo.

Those who remained behind enjoyed a fairly tranquil Saturday, praying occasionally for the safety of their valiant menfolk. I had managed to get Scott to tell me where he expected to put in and take out (Ponca to Kyles Landing) and that he would call me as soon as they got off the river "before sundown," so although I fully realized the risks, I was able to wait without worrying. I just wanted to know when to call out the mounted police - or I guess it would be the National Flotilla.

Sure enough, shortly before dusk, I got a call from a very excited Josiah. They had had a WONDERFUL day! They had floated, jumped off bluffs, explored all kinds of territory, and even hiked to Hemmed-In Hollow, the site of the (reportedly) highest waterfall west of the Appalachians and east of the Rocky Mountains. They climbed behind the 200+ foot falls, for some truly amazing views.

Speaking of views, I actually got to see the views, because, unknown to me, Scott took his (I-won't-tell-you-how-much-it-cost) digital camera down the river with him! I haven't bothered to ask him how he kept it dry, but he and Josiah got some excellent photos of themselves and the scenery - really neat.

"Lewis and Clark" arrived home by 7:30, somewhat dirty and a little tired, but so very, very, very happy. Josiah said it was the best thing he had ever done, and that is saying a lot. Scott felt that it was an extremely worthwhile investment of his precious time. I also achieved a long-awaited vindication.

Some fifteen years ago, BC (before children), Scott took me floating on the upper Buffalo in the spring. That is when the water is coldest and wildest, which is how Scott likes his canoeing. It was very chilly - maybe upper 40s? - so we were dressed in sweats. We put in at Ponca. Now, as I mentioned, only die-hard canoeing enthusiasts float the upper Buffalo when it's high and fast. As we launched, there were, standing on the bank, a gaggle of those die-hards watching us. You know the type: lean, athletic folks in stylish wetsuits, leaning on their kayaks. You also know that I am not that type!

So, Scott holds the canoe while non-athletic woman in baggy sweats lumbers into the canoe. Scott also steps in, and before we even go twenty feet, the current drags us sideways toward a horizontal tree, sticking out of the right-hand bank. Scott steers valiantly and shouts commands at me, but I do the perfectly natural thing for anyone who sees their canoe about to smash into a tree on the right - I lean to the left, and yes, you experienced floaters know what happens: we tip, dumping ourselves and all our belongings into the swiftly-moving, 50-some degree water.

I could not get my footing and was crying and being drug downstream. Scott was trying to right the canoe and recover the paddles. (Not only had I committed Sin #1 of leaning; I had added to it Sin #2 of letting go of the paddle.) Not only was I freezing, soaking, and scared spitless - we had ten more miles of this agony to traverse in order to get to our vehicle, where the dry clothes were - I was totally humiliated at the thought of the bronze bodies on the bank watching this fiasco.

We finally hauled the canoe and most of our stuff up onto a gravel bar just out of sight around a bend from the athletic on-lookers. We got things tied down better and resumed the float, shivering intensely. Perhaps you have actually floated this stretch of the Buffalo. If so, you will realize exactly how high the river was when I tell you that we did Ponca to Kyles Landing in 2 hours and fifteen minutes! It was a miserable experience, but at least we are still married, and, some 20 canoe trips later, I have learned that it is better to get a concussion by ramming your head into a rapidly-approaching tree limb than to lean sideways to avoid it. I have also learned that it is better to lose you life than your paddle. If you lose your life, at least you get to heaven; if you lose your paddle, you could be stuck on the river for decades!

Now, here's the vindication I promised you. One of the wonderful digital photos from last week's excursion shows an eager Josiah standing beside the canoe at the put-in at Ponca. There is a tree at water level on the right bank just behind the canoe. Scott said, "Patty, look! That tree is still there, and do you know what? You won't believe it, but right after this picture was taken, we tipped over, trying to avoid that tree." He didn't have to admit that, now, did he? But he's such a nice husband, and such a super dad. At least his wife had packed him some dry clothes this time!

Until next time,
Patty

From My Bookshelf:

The Lost Continent: Travels in Small Town America by Bill Bryson, rank: 7. I think this is the last Bryson book I will read for a while. I really enjoyed his descriptions of small town life. He is very, very funny, and I am sure that I know some of these same people! It was also nice to read what he had to say about some places that I have actually visited. However, unlike his Australia book, this one was a bit cruder. Still enjoyable, but more sticks to spit out. (My first pastor used to say that sometimes you have to chew the hay and spit out the sticks.)

Quote of the Week:

"I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious." ~ Albert Einstein

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