Tapco to Tuzigoot . . . the wet way

To begin at the beginning: Hefting two awkward 40-pound kayaks overhead to a height of seven feet to load them onto the truck rack, and hefting them back up to offload them is a task that is beginning to wear on me, enough so that I sometimes vote nay to getting onto the water.  It’s just too dang much work.  Didn’t used to be; however, that was somewhere back into previous decades when I was young and strong; now I’m still strong(ish), but disinclined to heft . . . see previous sentence.

As in many things medical as we are told, maybe it’s age related.  I did, after all, just pass another of those birthday milestones, this one was two years past my “trombones” birthday, 14 years past my “When I’m 64” birthday.  “How can this be?”, my innermost being queries querulously; however, methinks that each being who has come to this stage of life is equally disbelieving.  One must hoist up one's panties and party on, mustn’t one.

Okay, on to remedies for all that hefting: rational mind suggests switching to lighter inflatables, but first, according to rational mind, perhaps trying it out might be a wise move prior to divesting ourselves of the heavier boats.  That light bulb idea leads me to my cousin Brandy’s business in Cottonwood: Outdoor Adventure Centers.  Among other things, they offer guided and unguided inflatable kayak trips on the Verde River.  One thing leads to another, and soon enough, we found ourselves signed up for an unguided kayak trip, putting in at Tapco and taking out just past the Tuzigoot Bridge, along with three friends who love to say “Yes!”.

We took along the old camera, thinking photos of the adventure would be good, but not being willing to chance the pricier apparatus.  Only later did it occur to me that I should have gotten a photo of Brandy, who cheerfully got us signed in and sent us off with guide/driver Ken, whom I also didn’t photograph, being much too involved with his guidance instructions, such as “Follow the bubbles”, “Go with the vee (you had to be there)”, and so on.

At the last minute, as he set us free on the water, I did think to ask him to take a shot of the five of us, innocents smiling there on the still water, oblivious to and/or apprehensive about what lay ahead.

It was not overly long before we discovered that those inflatables do not track very well, with the result being that I (I shall speak only for myself here) was semi-out of control most of the time.  Seemed that the smallest movements of the paddles resulted in a too-large response from the boat, thus as I went through rapids, I was variously backwards, sideways or twirling in a circle.  They were good at sliding over and between the rocks in the numerous narrow slots, though.

I continued to attempt to exert some control over my motion as I navigated the rapids, but in retrospect, I could have adopted Briggs' laissez-faire attitude: he seemed to mostly loll back in his boat, feet resting lazily on the pontoon sides while taking photos and movies with his phone.

And speaking of resting lazily, most of our photos were necessarily during a hiatus wherein we enjoyed cooling off in or on the water, even having a bit of a siesta in the shade. . .

. . . while Crystal dreamed of playing her ukelele along the way . . .

 

 

 . . . and Briggs meditated mid-stream.

 

. . . while for me, it's always about being in the water.

 

In the end, none of us dumped out nor capsized.  Khristine managed to get hung up on rocks mid-rapids several times, but she was cheerfully good-natured about dislodging her boat and resuming her downstream navigation.

 

Our movie debut . . .

As we look back, Crystal provided the highlight of the trip when she navigated a rapids ahead of everyone and turned around to shoot a video of the rest of us coming through.

To provide a bit of narration for the movie:  There I am shooting through the chute (forwards that time), but oops, bonking into the bank before coming out the other end.

Next we have Chris following suit, but there's Khristine opting for a more precarious route, bouncing around in there a la pinball game.  She's gonna get through . .  almost . . . almost . . . and no, she finally comes to rest atop the rocks while Chris completes his run past her completely oblivious of her plight.

Now Briggs' turn - he is her husband, after all, so perhaps he will extend more caring and kindness than did Chris.  Alas, Briggs doesn't glance her way, either.  As he passes, Khristine puts out a plaintive hand toward him, perhaps in the misguided hope that help is there.

In the end, she cheerfully figures out a way out of her dilemma and soon joins the group.

All in all, it was an entertaining adventure with friends.  So, maybe I was a bit apprehensive as the inexorable current pulled me into narrow rocky slots that were seemingly impassable (okay, maybe even more than a bit), but we lived to tell the tale . . .

. . . and to afterward enjoy an afternoon of eats & libations at the lovely Page Springs winery on Oak Creek.