rafting

Well, I just got back from our rafting trip. Me and the boys from the Vinotech rented us a raft and went from High Point to Golden Crown, or that was the plan. Seems the river was up by about three inches and everybody was all in a panic about it. So, we went for one day instead of three also due to a mix up in communications. Somebody figured 4 days meant three days and somebody else figured it only meant two days even though we had all marked it on the calendar back in January. And then 6am worked out in real life to be 1 pm. But that's just how things is ran over here. You gotta get used to it or go crazy as a mule with a hornet in his ear.

Well, we got in the water on a raft because they wouldn't allow no canoes on the river. We came to the first place you could make out some waves and there was a dam with a sliding board thing to go down. There was a sizeable wave at the bottom. Well, we had to stop and go around because it might be dangerous or somebody might get splashed or some such nonsense. Reminds me of back home. There was a place on Possum Belly River called Willy's Wash. We used to go down it in inner tubes until them city folk came along in kayuks and neatoprine suits. They called it a class 6, but we'd been doing it since we was in the 3rd grade. The slickers thought it was called Willy's Wash because it was like a washing machine, but it was really cause it only had water a couple of times a year, about the same as Willy took a bath.

So after a few miles and a few beers we was getting used to laying back and rafting and watching the scenery. Sometimes it'd be nature and other times old towns. It was pretty relaxing.

Then we got to the “camp” which is something like the infield of the Kentucky derby with tents. They hoot and Holler all night long and the drunks fall on your tent and wake you up and it gets annoying after awhile if you're too sober. There ain't no camping around these parts, just in these corrals they call autokemps.


I gave up talking in Czech in the concession stand. I tried to constanant my way through it, but they always smiled and gargled back at me in German. So I just let loose and ordered in English. I think they prefer it that way anyhow. It makes 'em proud to be able to holler out,”Number 95, your smazeny syr is ready.” Besides, If I'm going to get talked at in a strange language I at least want it to be one I'm familiar with.

Why do they think I'm a german anyway! I ain't wearing no leatherhoses!