Scamps did the logistics, so all we had to do was show up…
We met at Dead Horse State Park at the crack of noon…
load gear and rafts into their pickup and drove north of Cottonwood's quaint and thriving Old Town. At Tootzigoot turnoff we hang a right. It's going to be a whopping 3 mile float… be lucky to get her done by sundown. Eric says he forgot the beer.
I fall to my knees, begin to weep uncontrollably. Bobbie's supportive and consoling… says, "You can do this Mark, I know you can."
"What's the point," I cried. "It's like eating a cone without ice cream."
Bobbie cramps up trying to manually inflate the Sea Eagle and must lie down, so I have to do everything… sober, no less. Scamps drag out a 12 volt super pump just as I finish inflating the Sea Eagle. It's 2:00 pm, the sun is bearing down and I'm sweating like a sow in heat… and we're still on the bank. I load 5 days worth of supplies on the Sea Eagle's nose... in case Eric gets us lost. You just can't trust a man who forgets to bring beer to a float trip.
At a measly 70 CFS, there are huge boulders to negotiate.
Maureen questions going sideways through rapids, wishes she would have stayed home to watch Days Of Our Lives.
The Verde's all of ankle deep on a titmouse—a roily series of Class I rapids interspersed with still-water ponds and headwind. "God, is this a test?"
We lift butts in order to keep kayaks moving... only to be stalled by wind in the next pond. My mouth's drier than a bale of cotton, and we have no Beer.
Photos of Scamps, not sipping beer.
The pace is relentless, we can't keep up.
Oh no! White water ahead! I'm drive Miss Daisy into thorny Mesquite tree limbs.
I think we're lost, but Eric points to our vehicle.
"Who cares? There no beer waiting for us."
I jump from Sea Eagle in an attempt to put an end to the misery. The water's three inches deep, I survive but Siri does not. She managed a text as she draws her last breath: "Mark, you ignorant bastard. This is the second time you've drowned me!"
Oh no. Cattails again. My allergies threaten anaphylactic shock.
It's hard to paddle sober. I fall out the back of Sea Eagle...
Note 5 day supply of gear on the front of Sea Eagle, but no beer.
Bet girly girls Louis and Clark never faced this kind of danger!
When shooting rapids littered with boulders, always go sideways!!!
No, Bobbie… you are doing it all wrong. You're supposed to go sideways through rapids! Either do it right or let me drive.
Bobbie's butt hangs on a rock. I think we need to call Triple A and get a wrecker. But, being the Man, I put on a Life Jacket and jump into the water, and promptly sprain both ankles as the water is only 3 inches deep. Seeing water pouring into our kayak, Maureen risks her life and swims to save us.
I lose 6 inches off the end of my paddle hitting rocks and the back of Bobbie's head. Note: supplies are still high and dry.
I try to beg a Colt 45 Malt Liquor off a some tubers. They are deaf, evidently, and sign me to go screw myself. Kids nowadays...
And now, an old song from the Monkee's music vault...