So after scouting and rejecting one location due to stinging nettle (have you ever been hit with that stuff? Awful!) We continued downriver to a spot with a sandy knoll. We were also just upriver from a bridge busy with cars, so we knew we were close to civilization. We pulled over and first thing we located the firewood and started a fire. The boyfriend handled a clothesline and started working on the wet gear while I put up the tent and started cooking. The advantages of sand include lump-free sleeping, level tent placement, and soft sitting and walking. The disadvantages include the fact I will have this river sand in my home, kayak, and gear for the rest of my days! We pulled over early enough to leave us two solid hours of daylight, and that magical hour of twilight. During that time we were able to dry out some things, but not all of our sleeping gear, so improvising became a priority before sleep could be established. Our meal of choice this night was bean with bacon soup and hot dogs. Easy to pack, easy to eat, one pot meal. It tasted amazing after being on the river 5 hours. After eating, we gathered more firewood and tried to figure out what we were going to sleep on.
I decided we had no choice but to put the sleeping bag down as cushion, wet or not. We had brought a blanket with waterproofing on one side and wool on the other, so I figured we could put that over the wet sleeping bag, waterproofing down. I was then informed that blanket was damp also. Well, we just didn’t have a choice. I guess you could say “luckily” the boyfriend had wrapped the lantern in this packing material similar to bubble wrap, and he had used a lot more than he had needed to because he’s that kind of guy (thank god), and we discovered we could lay that down and be dry. But sticky. I’ll take dry and sticky over wet and icky any day, though. So now we had that settled. As night fell we stocked up for our last pile of wood, and started discussing the half-built walls of buildings just inland from us, and their proposed purpose. So of course zombies had to come up. Now it is hilarious to me, always, that as an adult I can handle most any situation. Be calm, with it, helpful, etc. But you put me on a strange riverbank in the dark and I suddenly have every horror movie I have ever seen a commercial for playing out in my mind. Never fails. But even more funny, I start getting to the boyfriend, who decides we need to go on a perimeter check. I said Hell no, I was not going on a perimeter check. I didn’t even want to be anywhere near those walls in the dark. So like all good boyfriends in the world, he fashions me weapons out of a rain fly pole, tent stakes, and super duper tape. And let me tell you, I could mess someone’s face up with this thing, no question. I must admit, I love it when the boyfriend amuses and protects me all at the same time. So he takes off with his own weapon and light and leaves me fireside. He didn’t get far. Turns out all around those walls was the infamous stinging nettle, and that was enough to convince him no one was going to be around there. So we hung out around the fire, talked, and watched a couple fishermen get settled in across river from us for the night. The only other oddity to the night was the skull I came across while finding the bathroom. It scared the crap out of me at first, but I soon realized it was Styrofoam, and it entertained us for about two whole minutes. After a few more drinks and sacred alone time to relax and revisit each other we decided we’d better get some sleep so as to be up with the dawn and be on the water. I had a goal, anyway, of sitting in my kayak at dawn watching the sun arise above us to light our way. This is a beautiful and peaceful place in my mind. So we climb in the tent, get settled on our bubble wrap with our only dry blanket atop us, and talk ourselves into sleep. With the windows of the tent slightly unzipped for vent, it was not a stuffy night and sleep crept along and took us under. Sometime in the dark of the night I awoke on my left side, my right knee bent and wet. As I climb out of the fog, gripping for the reasons of sound, I realize it is raining, and raining good. Another moment, and I realize it is raining into the tent through the vented windows. I zip them up, but unzip the door to see what I can see. Out in front of me I see the kayaks covered top to bottom in sand splattered up from the hard rain, and the few things left on the line soaking once again due to the wet. My first thought was that this rain was supposed to arrive late the next afternoon per the report I checked before we left, and my second thought was everything is going home soaked and heavy. There was nothing else to do but lay back down and hope for more sleep, and the ending o the rain during that time. I awoke again at dawn, and our tent was becoming more soggy, and the rain was not abating. It was light now, and I was the only one up, and I started to wonder how we would get along if this rain continued. Before long my cell phone rang (the magic of cell phones), and it was my grandmother extremely concerned for our safety. She wanted to come up and find us and bring us home and out of this situation. I assured her we were fine, the river looked fine, and I had intentions of waiting it out and would call her back in an hour or two with an update. The boyfriend and I had an obligation later that afternoon and I was wondering if we were going to make it. Finally, about 11 a.m., which was enough time I started to consider my grandmother’s offer, the rain subsided then stopped. The sky lightening, and only the trees left to shake off the wet. The river had not risen a noticeable amount so I figured we could try to make it as far as possible before the rain started again, because I had no idea if it was going to start again or not. Now the boyfriend had not bothered to get up because of the rain, so I woke him now and we got to work packing up all the wet and sandy gear of our meager living arrangements. Wet sand is a lot less fun than dry sand. So we packed up and headed out. We lucked out and the weather held for us, and even graced us with sunshine after a couple hours. We discovered that wet gear is significantly heavier than dry, and pulling our kayaks through the dead stretches became an absolute chore rather than pleasure. Incidentally, the stretches between where we camped and Loveland, OH are mostly long, straight, near dead waters. It is hard to describe the ache and pull of the muscles in my shoulders, my biceps, my chest, my upper back. I could feel each one as I rowed, standing out singularly, telling me they were there and they were tired. A few times I daydreamed of pulling my paddle in, kicking my legs out atop my kayak and laying back for a rest of an hour or so. Maybe with a good book. Of course we couldn’t do that, since we were on a schedule to meet a time impossible to meet at this point, but I did absolutely die a few times and just float and wander, and think on why I didn’t expect rain in the middle of the night lasting to 11 a.m., which is so far past dawn… We decide on a new goal destination. Originally we were going back to Milford, our home port. But we are tired, wet, and behind schedule so we decide to pull out at Lake Isabella, north of Milford just the southside of Loveland. So to speak. We called friends, who have a truck, and they are great friends and willing to come and save us from ourselves. We finally float into more familiar territory and I realize we are heading into downtown Loveland, we approach a canoe livery with people on the bank and we ask how much longer to Isabella. Three more miles, they say. I’m thinking that is not bad, we can do that in a hour. But the boyfriend is on the phone as we pass this livery, and it’s not long before he tells me to paddle back to the liver. Yes, upstream against current, because our friends are closer to here than Isabella and we should just stop here. Which isn’t here anymore, it’s there, because I am past it! So I started hauling myself against the current, back-pedaling to the bank of the livery, and the burn in my arms is so intense I figure my muscles will just start snapping out of my skin at any moment. Seriously. As I pass him, I look at the boyfriend and say, “I don’t think I like you much, right now”. He laughed. I did not. At any rate, we beached our heavy boats and weary bodies at the livery, got out, and laid on the gravel for a solid five minutes. My arms were twizzler ropes, I swear. Our friends arrived momentarily and delivered us safely home, and we went about the process off unloading a bit, retrieving the car, etc. Then made our way to the obligation we were late for and had to commence ripping up an apartment full of carpet, and disposing of an entire kitchen full of countertops and cabinets. Don’t ask me how our muscles didn’t fail us, how I carried all that carpeting and cabinets doe 4 flights of steps and chucked them into a dumpster, but I did. We did. We also each ate half of our own large pizzas, and then slept like babies. Imagine that.
While it was a long, and at times exasperating, experience, I would not trade it. I am glad we did it. We had a fun first day and night, the amazing greens of the foliage, the sparkle of the sun off the water, the solitary flight of a heron that escorted us part of the way, the regal turtles on their logs, the peace of birdsong and breeze….all worth everything I went through with burning muscle and dripping rain. We plan to do it again, hopefully with better circumstances. The evening we spent alone together on the riverbank, childless and obligation-free, has no weight in gold. I recommend a trip like this to anyone with a love of nature and each other, for it was that love and respect that allowed us to see past the unsavory weather and fatigue and just enjoy where we were in that moment, and hold it close to us and embrace it. Moments we will remember forever, good and bad.
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