So there I was
So it's a beautiful day in Bailey Canyon and I've just arrived at supermax, where I break open my lunch of chicken neck bones and M&M's, when a group of punk kids show up and butcher the rapid... So, as I'm laughing at these pukes, I realize it's Todd Gilman and Evan looking like a bunch of carping, no paddling scrubs, slicing and dicing the rapid... It made me sik to when I realized this is the next generation of bad asses, what a shame..
So back to my lunch when I see on the horizon the great old school monster Rasta.. I have to smile, as I know Rasta will show these punks how to run the shit-- when all of a sudden this pebble rears it's head and the legendary Rasta flips trying to catch the eddy off the right just above the top slide.. I watch in disbelief as Rasta starts with a pathetic carp and then takes one hand off his paddle to pull his skirt--- I was like WTF is this choad doing?
So I wait with a warm feeling in my heart, as I know the aftermath is going to be well worth the price of admission-- I might have thrown a rock or two just to make sure when he drug his sorry wet carcuss out of the river he didn't hesitate to check out and start breaking the pieces of gear that stayed on his orca type body...Then it happens, an explosion like the one I used to watch when the m80 had been dropped in the pumpkin.. If you listened real close you could still hear the kids screaming and crying, "why,why"? No this shit isn't funny to me, I'm just telling you what is was like from my perspective dammit... Meanwhile Evan and Todd are watching in horror as this bearded clam is looking for his brothers and sisters under the crux move in the drop..
I was sitting on the rock above Rasta wondering what excuses we'd hear when he managed to get out from under the rock---probably nothing I hadn't heard before "the paddle got ripped out of my hand"--"my skirt blew" my personal favorite "i'm too fat" or maybe his personal favorite, "I haven't been paddling that much" whatever it was gonna be, I was ready to give him the chunder kick in the nuts and backhand for including me in this pathetic display of whitewater kayaking...
So if any of you should meet Rasta in your travels, don't be afraid to walk right up, say "hello choad" and throw the kid a rope whether it's on the hike in, the hike out or during the shuttle, let this yardsale queen know you have his back and will risk blowing out a disc to reel (i.e. harpoon) him in..