I floated the river by myself (and fucked everything up)

So this week has been a sort of comedy of errors. My planned hike, a hike I have been looking for all summer long (it has a section of trail called "the Vertigo Mile" and that's awesome), was closed due to a wildfire. After scrambling to find a replacement hike, I found one with no maps, and going off just the directions in the trail description I got horribly lost for hours. Not lost where I couldn't find my way back to the car, lost where I kept losing the trail and couldn't pick it up again, because it braided and went through multiple campgrounds and was just awful.

The next day, I wanted to float the Yakima River from Umtanum Rec Area to Roza Rec Area, which everyone says is about a four hour float. I bought a boat and life vests and a cooler. As it turned out, my $35 inflatable raft that was a "three-person" raft, really was for one. My boyfriend decided to sit back. As I tried to launch, I got scared and decided to sit back as well and try again when we had more rafts. After all, soloing a four-hour float for the first time is probably a really stupid idea.

"Need some help?" a kid asked.

"Maybe," I replied, as my fat ass was pinning the bottom of the float to the riverbank.

The kid started pushing me out into the river. "What happens if you sink?"

"Uh, sink?" I said. Just then, I was pushed out far enough to float. The current suddenly grabbed me, and before I knew it I was sailing downriver. "Shit!" I called back to my boyfriend. "I guess I'll see you in four hours!"

I was off. I learned in the course of my float that I was sitting in my boat backwards. I also learned I was holding my paddles backwards. Some fellow floaters I ran into (literally, unfortunately) helped me with that.

"Is this your first time?" they asked.

"Yep."

"Geez, and you're all by yourself? You're brave."

"Or dumb", I conceded.

Things went well until we got to a bit horseshoe bend in the river. The same floaters who had helped me earlier were much farther upstream. I heard them shouting "*something* river!" at me. I couldn't make out at all what they were saying.

Too late, I realized they were saying "Left river!". The river was about to bend to the right. I knew this, and had been hugging the right side because I didn't want to be flung against the rocks in the river bend. What I neglected to realize was that there was an island the river forked around. To the left, the way was clear. To the right, a large tree took up almost the entire width of the passage.

I saw it, and I tried to correct, but the current and wind were too strong and I was too late. I ended up grasping at the plants along the island, being pulled down the right pathway. It was too steep for me to attempt to climb out and carry my float over the island.

Observing the fallen tree, it looked like there was just enough room for me to squeeze my raft through. Until this point, I was barely able to steer the thing, but I realized pushing forward through that narrow opening was my only way out. Okay, you can do this, I told myself. I let go of the long grass I was clinging too, got my oars ready, and aimed for the narrow opening.

Of course I missed. I mentioned I could barely steer, right? Instead, I collided almost dead-on with a branch poking out of the water. My raft spun 180, 360, 720....it was just spinning. I pulled in my oars, curled up in the fetal position, and let the current do with me as it would. I was utterly fucked at that point, and I just surrendered and accepted it. I had all my essentials waterproofed in a float-able bag, so worst-case scenario I could grab it and swim for shore (something I was reasonably certain I could accomplish in an emergency). The two beers I had drank further upstream I think also helped keep me relaxed and calm. I never panicked; I was just like whelp, this is a thing that's happening now.

My $35 raft did not pop, surprisingly. I was spit out back at the main river. I gave the folks upstream an "OK" gesture with my hands, and I continued on my way.

The current was swift enough that the four hour estimated float time ended up being less than three. Despite all the mistakes I had made, I had fun, and now that I have learned some stuff, I think I'll be able to have even more fun next time. I definitely plan on there being a next time! Just gotta remember to hold the oars properly, sit in the boat right, and when the river forks go left!

I brought my GoPro along (it's waterproof and has a floaty mount!), so I took some video (when I wasn't terrified and clutching my oars desperately). Here it is!

And here's a satellite view of the island I went the wrong way around (it's south of Lmuma and north of Big Pines campground):

The river flows right to left in this picture. I went through that narrower part. A tree had fallen across it.

Reflections on a new decade

I just turned 30. I'm not feeling glamorous about it. I feel like I wasted my 20's on a deadbeat ex and spun my wheels in dead end jobs for far too long. It's only been in the last year that I feel I've started to really get a bearing on life, and it feel like it's happening too late.

Sometimes I wish I could go back and do it all over. I wish I would have paid attention to the red flags with my ex, run the other way, and had life turn out different.

Today, this is what my mom wrote on my Facebook timeline:

She knew I was refusing to age gracefully

I realize if I went back, I'd probably do everything exactly the same way. Because from day one, I was stubborn as hell. I do things my way, and only my way, for better or for worse. (This is why I'm afraid to have kids; when my mother says "I hope someday you have kids just like you," it's a real curse!)

I recently completed climbing two peaks which were the hardest hikes I have done to date, because I am too stubborn to not finish something I start. I finished school while working two jobs even after my divorce while I was barely keeping myself together because I was too stubborn to quit. And if I went back in time and told myself to run from my ex, I would be too stubborn to do so.

Life has a funny way of working out. I feel like I messed up my 20's, but if I had gone with my original plan, I would be an English teacher, which in hindsight seems like a horrific nightmare. I would have lived at home longer, which may have been financially beneficial but I wouldn't have learned to stand on my own two feet the way I have. I may not have learned how to cope with horrible bosses and how to draw the courage to quit a job when it gets bad. I wouldn't have learned how to cope when your tuition is due, you have two cars with transmissions that blow up, and you're only making $11 an hour. I certainly wouldn't have learned how to  keep swimming when you're drowning through heartbreak and depression.

Most of all, taking those detours, though they were twisty and rocky, helped me find a job that I love. I had never even heard of physical therapy back in my early 20's and didn't know the field was a thing that existed. I did have the notion of going to massage therapy school (a notion I didn't pursue as my parents refused to support it), and when I thought about going back to that plan in my mid 20's I discovered the physical therapy program. Now I have a job that pays "real world" money, and even after almost a year of employment I still am loving it. I've moved across the state, made new friends, and life is starting to look up for a change.

So I fucked up my 20's. But I've lived, and I've learned. I can't honestly say I'd have done it any differently, despite the dark times. I'm starting my 30's with more knowledge and a better foundation. Let's make this next decade an amazing one!

I don't even care that I moved to where everything is on fire

So the other hill near where I live caught fire. I heard about it at work. It started at a homeless camp and spread like, well, wildfire. I was like "Huh, I'm like three blocks away from that. Oh well."

When I got home I parked and walked over to look at it. Here's a picture that's grainy because it was taking from a Facebook Live still I later pulled.

I only had to walk about one block to get this shot

I feel like I'm learning to become a local because when I moved here I was like "OMG FIRE!" and everyone was like whatevs. But now we've just had so many fires you don't even know, like daily there's another one. I feel like I have wildfire fatigue.

Now that both hills near my house have burned, at least there's no more fuel for wildfires, so I also feel like I'm sort of immune for the rest of the season now.

I probably could never live on the edge up against the fields though. That would spook me too much. So far no structures have been lost (as of this writing, that fire is still burning and came really really close to some houses, but it looked like the firefighters were winning when I decided to head home so I'm assuming they're okay).

Nestled in my neighborhood, close-ish but not too close to the open hills, I'm feeling more secure. Because you can't freak out over every fire that is here. There's simply too many. You can only care about so many things, and if you try to care about all the fires you just can't do it.

You can care endlessly about the firefighters though. Seriously those guys rock. Keep up the amazing job, guys!

Thank you, mystery shitter

Back when Iron Man came out, I went to the Alderwood Mall to see it in IMAX, because that was the closest IMAX to Bellingham at the time (now Bellingham has its own IMAX). It was a bit of a drive and I gave myself a lot of time because the traffic can get really bad. Surprisingly, I hit almost no traffic, so I was there early with time to eat lunch and wander the mall before the film.

I forget what I ate for lunch, but it passed through me quickly and with a vengeance, and I needed to drop a deuce desperately. I knew it was going to be wet, smelly, and noisy. I ducked into a busy public restroom, head down, bracing for the shame that was about to befall me.

As I prepared to release something horrific into the porcelain bowl, a mystery savior came in the form of someone in the stall opposite me, who apparently had eaten at the same lunch spot.

Mystery shitter: "Oh, oooooooooh, oh God why?" *ppbbbbbt*  "OOOOOOOOH!"

I do not know who they were, but their cries of despair covered up the sounds coming out of my own stall as I released as quietly as I could.

I don't know who you were, mystery shitter. I am sorry for your plight, but you saved me, and for that I thank you.

Money doesn't buy you brains

I spent over a decade working in the hospitality industry. I went from bottom-wrung budget motels to luxury resorts. One thing I learned is that it doesn't matter how much money you make; you can be rich and still be an idiot. These are some of their stories.

The resort I worked at was at the end of a narrow sandspit peninsula that had one road. The peninsula was a mile long. At it's widest at the end, it was maybe 1000'. At the base at its narrowest, it was barely wider than the road. This was not a huge piece of land we're dealing with. The resort, along with the handful of other structures on the peninsula, were all waterfront, because there was literally nowhere to build that wouldn't be.

On more than one occasion, I would be checking someone in, and the following conversation would take place.

Guest: "So, where's the beach?"

Me: "...outside?"

I mean, they had to drive past it to get to us. The peninsula is barely wider than the road at parts, you just can't miss where the beach is. You look out the window, and it's right there. You just...you just walk out the door. I can't emphasize this enough.

There was literally only one road on the peninsula, and we were at the end. I once had a lady come storming up to the desk because she could not figure out how to get to the road. We did not have any sort of exceptionally difficult parking lot; it was a driveway leading to the entrance with a lot on either side, and at the end of the driveway was the road. As long as she could avoid turning into one of the parking lots, she should have had no problem getting back to the road. I literally had to walk out and escort her to the end of our driveway to the road, because she was too dumb to figure it out.

The average income of our clientele, I was told, was $200,000. I don't know what jobs all these people had to earn that sort of money, but some were clearly dimmer than others.

The point is, don't let your salary determine your worth. You can be rich and be dumb as fuck (just look at our current commander-in-chief as a prime example). Money isn't everything to a person.

How many murderers do you know?

I recently saw a meme that said you walk past 36 murderers on average in your lifetime. I don't know if that's true or not. I do know I have walked past at least two, and both were when I was in high school.

One was Lee Boyd Malvo, the younger half of the DC snipers duo. He went to my high school for about two months. I didn't know him, but I'm sure I walked past him. Even though he only went there for a few months, it was enough for the national media to surround our school after he was arrested. Lots of students went to talk to the news vans. I doubt any of them actually knew him. None of my friends ever remembered him there.

I found his apologies after the fact interesting. I think he was sincere. I know a thing or two about mentally abusive relationships and manipulation, and not just from my experience with an abusive ex. Obviously he needs to face the consequences of his actions, which were really really horrible, but it also wouldn't surprise me if his apology was genuinely sincere.

The other one I actually shared half my classes with. Before the DC snipers, I actually shared half my classes with Ryan Alexander, who killed an 8-year-old boy named Michael Busby in a rather cruel and brutal fashion. It involved leading the boy into the woods, tying him up with duct-tape, injecting him with insulin, and cutting him with a razor, all because Michael was "annoying" him. 

Ryan was my lab partner in high school. He actually stole my palm pilot once (remember those things?). He was the very stereotypical quiet loner. After the incident, I remember being called to the vice principal's office. The VP wanted to make sure I was okay, but really the meeting was just me sitting there while he bawled his eyes out. I think he needed it a lot more than I did.

Ryan was supposed to be on antipsychotics, but his mother apparently had been withholding them because she thought God would "cure" him.  I don't know his specific diagnosis for why he was prescribed those medications, but I always wonder what would have happened if he was properly medicated. Would Michael still be alive if he had been properly managing that condition?

Take your meds if you need them, people. And let other people take their meds. Maybe it would have saved a life.

Both of these incidents happened within a year of each other. That's the public high school experience, I guess.

Seriously WHY did I move to where everything is on fire?

So there was a wildfire practically in my backyard. Well, it was two blocks away, but that's still too close for comfort.

On July 4th, I had just finished summiting Goat Peak and was feeling amazing about it, since it was the hardest hike I have ever done to date. I drove back to town, came through the Selah gap, and saw the entire hillside behind my house on fire. I saw houses and smoke in between houses. It was one of the worst feelings ever because all I saw was smoke and couldn't see how far down it went. Turning toward my street, I saw all the firetrucks had blockaded the road a mere block from me.

Immediately I ran inside my house, leaving the dog in the car, and ran to my backyard. I could see between houses where the scorched earth ended, very close to the houses. There are only two blocks between me and the open land that was burning. I saw firefighters up on the hill with hoses and the amazing firetrucks they have that are designed to drive over range land.

I popped on the sprinkler in the front yard and grabbed the hose to start dousing the back yard. With a post on Facebook, I also learned to spray down the roof and sides of my house. Within an hour of the local news reporting the fire, they reported 100% containment. It was only then that I went inside to wash off all the dirt and sweat from my hike, though I still kept my sprinklers going, because that was far too close for my comfort level.

I didn't even get a photo of the fire because I was so stressed at the time, but here's a view of the scorched hillside the morning after from my backyard:

Exhibit A

Even though it was July 4th and a lot of people suspected fireworks, someone in the comments of the local news site said she was nearby when it began and didn't hear fireworks and it seemed to be more likely it started with a cigarette butt tossed out a window. To which I was like really?!?! Over on the (much damper) west side of the state, I've seen fires start that way. Over here where everything is a tinderbox, how can people possibly be that dumb?!?!

Fortunately they got this fire put out, plus another small fire that sprung up further north of town. No structures were lost. The fire crews here are amazing.

There are so many wildfires here...it's gonna take some adapting for me to get used to this.