This year as I embarked on a semi-annual trip to spend some time in the rapids of Northern California, I knew it would be an interesting trip. I didn’t know, however, I would be performing an act of heroism that would save two members of the trip from boredom.
The first part of the day passed without too much incident, though I was the only person foolish enough to actually show up at the meeting spot at 5:30AM (thanks again, Toi). The 13 of us rolled out to Cache Creek, after making numerous jokes about who was going to be the unlucky member of our party. Little did we know how true those jokes almost were…(cue dramatic theme music)
We arrived at Cache Creek, applied various amounts of sunscreen, and loaded up on buses to get to the launch point. We elected to brace the rive in the larger five man rafts. My raft included the MVP of the trip, Ms. Carol Kim, the stoic Dat, my fellow navigator Delon, and the heroine Toi.
The first half of the day passed with an alarming number of naval battles, two rafts blasting each other with high-powered water cannons. My raft normally emerged the victor, as we had most of the water guns, but such is life. and life was grand. Right up until we the only Class 4 rapid, the Big Mother.
When we got to this rapid, we must have come in at a wrong angle, because according the picture that was snapped by the White Water Adventures staff, we went in backwards, hit a rock and capsized. In fact if you look at the picture we took, you can see the look on my face as I realized what is about to happen. To be specific, I’m flying out of the raft, and the heroine Toi is attempting to grab my arm to save me. To those of you who haven’t seen the two of us standing next to each other, Toi probably weighs all of 35 pounds when soaking wet, and she didn’t manage to keep me in the boat (but for some reason, she’s always trying to save me….). I believe that when I went over board, the shift in weight caused everyone else in the boat to pitch over the sides.
White Water Adventures staff were placed strategically around the rapids to help the unfortunate collect their paddles and boat, and soon had our boat floating down to us so we could retrieve it (read: so I could retrieve it. The other members of the boat were too busy clinging to each other to really help get the boat). I swam to collect the boat as fast as I could, as I was concerned for the various ice chests and a mesh bag. The mesh bag in particular contained several items of paramount importance. A pair of flip-flops, several bottles of sunscreen, and my remaining supply of rum.
Now, an important footnote to my tale is that I’m traveling with a bunch of folk that LOVE Hennessey. I think the word love doesn’t actually quite cover their affection for the stuff, but I, literally, can’t stomach the stuff. So I brought my own supply of tasty beverage, AKA RUM. I had brought two giant water bottles of the delicious nectar, with just a splash of coke and a twist of lime so you could just keep drinking it all day while enjoying the sun and water with some really good folk. Between Carol and myself, we had already finished one of the water bottles, and there was only one left to carry me through the rest of the first day, night, and following day. So before running afoul of Big Mother, the situation was already looking grim.
This knowledge was a huge concern to me as I swam as fast as I could to our raft. I spotted a lone flip-flop floating by and threw it in the boat. A kayaker was patrolling the area grabbing random items and throwing them into the boat. “There’s hope,” I told myself. “There’s hope.” I managed to grab the boat and angle it over to the shallows where everyone was waiting. I stoop up in the shallows and looked into the boat.
Murky water had flooded the boat when it had caught on the rapids, and various items were floating in the boat. Two sandals, an empty water bottle, and some random wrappers that I had never seen before. But no rum. Let me repeat this, NO RUM (Insert ‘why is the rum gone?’ comments here).
With everyone’s help we emptied the boat of the dirty water, and continued down the river. I have to admit, my heart just wasn’t in the paddling. The loss of the rum was a huge blow. I was going to be sober while everyone else would be sipping on Hennessey. I think I hit all five stages of grief in about 30 seconds.
After paddling down the river for about twenty minutes, something caught Carol’s attention. Somehow, while paddling through rapids, this girl spotted a small object about 30 feet away bobbing around the rocks. She turned to me and said, “Bryan, isn’t that your rum?”
My head snapped up, and somehow fixed on the small object she had spotted. Sure enough, my bottle of rum was making it’s own way through the rapids to our campsite. I now firmly believe Carol has a sixth sense when it comes to alcohol. I never would have seen the bottle, paddling right past it, never realizing what I was missing. I then did the only thing I could in such a situation. I abandoned a perfectly good ship (AKA raft) to save the rum….in the middle of a rather dicey stretch of rapids. I swam out into the treacherous waters, grabbed the rum, and curled up around it protectively, blocking the thrusts of river rocks with my body.
Above the rush of water, I heard Carol scream, “BRYAN! Throw me the rum!!!” Instantly, my arm whipped back and fired off a bullet of dark delicious goodness right to Carol that would have impressed even Joe Montana.
The river gods instantly grew angry with me for denying them their sacrificial bottle of rum, as rocks suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and the river turned white with foam. I was thrown into rocks covering my legs in bruises, scraps, and scrapes. I passed through the last stretch of rapids and saw Carol holding the magic bottle of rum. It was as if the clouds parted and the light of heaven shown down upon the bottle. I swam over, jumped into the boat, and cracked the top of the bottle to take the edge off the pain the fresh scratches and bruises were already bringing. I of course shared with Carol, and we dubbed the bottle, The Magic Bottle of Rum. Everyone got a sip, but I do believe they think I’m just a little crazy for jumping out after the rum. But they are obviously not rum drinkers.
