Sinkers and Floaters

Ah, nature. There’s nothing like it. Beautiful scenery, fresh air - it’s invigorating, it’s serene - especially if you’re out in it.  That’s my perspective. Or, you can take my wife’s view:  interaction with the great outdoors is uncomfortable at best, and could even lead to a painful death.  I’ve known her feelings about this for a long time. So why I talked her into going tubing on a river is a question I still ask myself many years later.  

My friend Mickey Parham got me hooked on tubing.  He had discovered a 3.5 mile stretch of the Locust Fork River, just north of Birmingham. It’s beautiful.  The scenery is jaw dropping - huge boulders, sandy beaches, steep bluffs and even small waterfalls.  The take out point is at a picturesque covered bridge. But this is not always a lazy river beer float. If the water level is low it can relatively peaceful, with a few bumpy stretches.  However, after a rainfall with a lot of runoff, you can expect a fast ride with some rapids that would make the Ocowee proud. As you might expect, we preferred it fast and dangerous. I could be sure my phone would ring  after a big thunderstorm.  Time for whitewater!

All the kayakers on the river thought we were out of our minds. “What are you doing on inner tubes? These are rapids!”, they would say. We had a different perspective.  Since we were floating on oversized truck tubes, we could slide over the rocks that were made smooth by the rushing water. This minimized  any errors we might make navigating the rapids.  In addition, we had floated this stretch of the river so many times we could almost do it blindfolded.  We knew where the trouble was and how to perfectly traverse it. With skills like that, we didn’t see the need for life preservers. Just hang on to your tube and you’ll be fine!  That was then. Now, I would not only insist on a life jacket, but a helmet, a whistle, a GPS, clearance by the Coast Guard, and a helicopter following our progress. That’s the difference in youth and age. 

The water was low when Carol made the trip. It looked to be an easy run. I knew there might be a bit of a challenge with a couple of the rapids, but the lack of water made them fairly tame.  “Should be no big problem”, I told myself. “Nothing but bugs and sunburn to worry about.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong. It was bad from the very beginning. The first minute she was in the water she was looking for snakes who, according to Carol,  were just waiting to bite her. Then she would glance at me with a “I just heard the banjos from Deliverance” look. This was going to be the longest three hours of my life. 

It was.  We had gone no more than  200 yards when  she pointed to a huge boulder flanking the river and said, “Why are those sticks on top of that rock?” Mickey said,” Um, those aren’t sticks.”  He was right. It was 4 or 5 water moccasins taking in the mid day sun. She froze. I tried to minimize her terror by saying, “They don’t like cold, fast moving water, so we should be ok.”  That got a terse one word reply. 

“Should?”

There was no time for me to respond because the first set of rapids were coming up quickly. They’re appropriately named House Rock because of the giant chunk of limestone on the left side of the river. To avoid problems, a.k.a. disaster, you should stay to the right of the boulder. Knowing this, Mickey and me warned everyone by pointing and shouting , “Stay to the right!”  And everyone safely floated  the right side.  Everyone but Carol.  Down the left side she went where she flipped and lost her tube.  Luckily, she quickly popped out of the water, and gasped for air.  Then she began crying, praying to God, and cursing me. 

Looking back, I must admit it was hilarious. I don’t think she could have looked any funnier flipping over if she tried. Keep in mind I’m just now making this admission 39 years after it happened - and I’m not sure I’m in the clear yet. 

Once we got her back on the tube we tried to calm her as best we could.   But soon I had to prepare her for the most challenging part of the run, Tilt a Whirl and Double Trouble. It’s a quick set of rapids, followed by a fast sweeping curve that leads you to a drop of a couple of feet.  When I began describing to her the best way to navigate them, we could already hear the roar of water in the distance. 

She began crying again.  “Is this a big one?”

“Well, it’s not too bad today.  But it is harder than the first one.”  

When she heard that, she began wailing like Lucy Ricardo.  “Waaaa! I can’t do it. Waaaa! Can I just walk around it?”

In case you don’t know, thats  wife-speak for “Will you walk around it with me?”

I responded, “N-O,  no!  I am not walking around those rapids. You get in the water like everyone else and go down this river. You’re the only wimp out here.”  Yep, I said it just like that - to myself. 

So within 3 minutes, we’re walking around Double Trouble.  This is far worse than the rapids. It’s over a hundred yard hike thru rocks and logs.  And it took forever because you’re trying to avoid turning an ankle, falling down, or stepping on a snake. Not to mention the stinky, calf deep mud. After what seemed like an hour, we arrived below the rapids and met up with the rest of our group.  Without hesitation, I tossed Carol  one of the inner tubes and said , “Stay here. I’ll be back.”  And with that, I picked up my tube, and headed upstream.  I wasn’t going to let her keep me from shooting those rapids.  

By the grace of God, the rest of the trip was mostly uneventful. She (meaning we) still lagged behind everyone, whimpering, gnashing her teeth, and complaining  about her newly discovered bumps and bruises.  Oh, and of course cursing me.  Finally , we rounded a bend and saw the covered bridge in the distance. The end was in sight.  

It was an easy maneuvering to stand up in the shallow water and wade out of the river.  Except of course for Carol, who needed assistance to keep from stumbling on the rocks.  Finally she reached dry land, and her whitewater ordeal was over. 

Not surprisingly, at that moment, my ordeal was beginning. For the next few weeks I experienced my own  personal version of Double Trouble. And no whitewater was involved. 

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