Back Logs
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Floatation Devices
I haven't really been on a river in something like eight years. Could be longer. I don't actually remember who I was with the last time I went rafting. Probably one of the youth groups I went to Mexico with. I seem to remember a rafting stop over on one of those trips. Then again it could have been a high school thing. Not important. What is important is that I miss it.
Laura, Dan, and I got ourselves hooked up with a small rafting outfit on the North Umpqua river just outside of Roseburg, OR. So, after piling into the car at 5:30am we drove...I drove our sleepy asses three and a half hours into southern Oregon for what is probably one of the better rafting rivers in this wonderful state. Not that I speak from a tremendous amount of experience. I can say however that the 14 mile stretch of river we covered contained enough class III and IV rapids to keep us busy every ten to fifteen minutes or so. Not a lot of drift time. Decent rapids too. Especially for the boat we had. Only four of us in a 5'11''x14' inflatable, which our guide told us is the raft equivalent to a ferrari. Smaller and narrower than most river rafts generally come it's got some manuverability at the cost of some stability. Which is what's so odd for me...
I don't have a real fear of water per se, however, it's definitely the planetary medium I find myself the least comfortable in. I'm not in control in the water. Oh, I can swim. Hardly worthy of competition, but my skills are more than servicable. Certainly enough to save my life should I find myself ejected by some class III hydraulic. Still, I throw a healthy respect to the envrionment nature saw fit to coat three quarters of this planet with. And in spite of my own issues, I never really felt uncomfortable out there. Honestly, it seemed like the stuff we went through, while extremely entertaining, wasn't really that difficult. Of course, this had a lot to do with having a guide with 14 years of near constant runs down the river. The man had his lines down pretty much pat. A decent raft and a good flight plan and you don't really need experienced rafters on the paddles. But I look back and think that I understand where my fascination with kayaks got started. It requires more control. More skill. Not just stroking forward and hitting the angles. Weight, balance, speed, control. Take what is basically a bumpy, wet ride in a raft and transform it into an endurance trial. Guess maybe I know what my new hobby ought to be.
Two of the guys who were in our little crew were following the raft with a couple of inflatable Tomcat kayaks. Almost frightening unstable to look at them, but I'll be damned if those guys managed to paddle through some of the rougher stuff we tackled without too much trouble. Three years kayaking experience didn't hurt them I'm sure, but it's not like these guys were even in good shape. One of them plowed through a pint of Busch at lunch, and the other guys somehow burned a couple of cigarettes (think he was dipping when he was on the river). Not to mention both of them being somewhat overweight. I just figured these sorts of activities were pretty much for the fit and healthy. While only one of them managed to do the "all-day sit-up," I feel better about my chances....heh, I find confidence in the strangest places.
I think, perhaps, it takes a certain measure of insanity as well. The previous day our guide managed to nearly lose a passenger, and in the process of pulling her back in the boat she managed to help him lose an oar. Somehow she reached over him, grapped the oar and pulled it out of its clip. I'm still not clear on all the mechanics, but suffice it to say I can vouch for the fact that it really did go AWOL. How do I know this? Because we found the damned thing. Going over the class III that had bucked the hapless lady out the day before, he pulled a quick turn after clearing it only to spot the 8' blue oar about six feet or so down (depth can be hard to really determine on the river). We eddy out and he starts pulling off all his gear. He gets out of the boat, wades out a little ways, then dives on in. Crazy bastartd came back up with the oar a few seconds later. Good day at the office, huh? Seriously. How was your day at work? Did you finish some paperwork that had been looming? Did you manage to get through your meeting without too much discomfort? Or did you dive into the base of a class III rapid and pull out the oar you lost the day before?
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Too Weary For Patriotism
When will there be enough rest for me? I'm not really all that tired right now, though I was up later than I ought to have been last night. It's not like my body doesn't have the energy for anything. I'm going to work out later tonight. Hard. I feel like I need a beating. It's like my brain won't just shut off. There's just too much going on to really clear the weariness away. Too many things I need to deal with and deal with soon. Jobs, girls, bills, goals, ailing family members, my future....my past. It's not like my life has even been that hard. Comparitively speaking. I'm sure Barbara would tell me "it is what it is." Seems to be her motto. There's a kind of fatalistic wisdom in it, but there are times when it just isn't all that comforting. Not that it's supposed to be. And now I'm rambling.
It's the Fourth of July. We're all supposed to be celebrating the birth and freedom of this nation of ours. For most people it means the same thing every other holiday means. Go be with people you like or feel an obligation to be civil to (e.g., family, friends, loved ones, etc.), then get drunk or eat too much or both. Nearly exclusive to the Fourth, however, is the wonderful added bonus of getting to indulge in some mild to moderate destruction. Celebrate the birth of a nation by blowing up a small part of it. As cynically snipish as I sound I'd be an utter hypocrite (probably am anyway) if I said I didn't enjoy it myself. Nothing makes a guy feel more warm inside than a little bit of controlled mayhem. Maybe it's a universally male thing, maybe it's just an American thing. Either way, heh, it is what it is.
Final observation on the Fourth: How is it that the Fourth of July won't shut down commerce in America, but Christmas and Easter do? My old place of employment is open till 7pm tonight, but is closed on Easter.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Things Contemplated
Current mood: http://www.myspace.com/greggraffin
The only thing I've ever hated nearly as much as a first day at work is job hunting. Nothing quite tops that near childlike feeling of being towed around and showed what to do by people sometimes not even your age. There's no real reason you should already know exactly what to do or even where to go to do it. It's understandable that you'll probably be asking stupid questions (stupid to the people you ask them to anyway) and following people around by the heels for even up to a couple of weeks. When I first started working on the dock at Meier & Frank I found myself breaking down a lot of cardboard and sweeping the dock three or four times a day because I just didn't know any better.
I guess it's with that in mind that I continue on with the close second. As far as jobs I'm capable of doing, or learning to do, I've got a lot of options. Since I'm not exactly starving on the street right now I can be a little picky about the type of job I'm willing to do, which to be honest is the kiss of death for a guy like me. I flourish when I have no options and just have to knuckle down and get something done. Give me options and I'll hem and haw over it until there isn't an option anymore. Sad, but true. I know this about myself, and I know this isn't a real exemplary way to be, so I'm trying to be more proactive about things this time.
Fire fighting still holds a place in my heart. The related possibility that's really sparking my interest now is Search and Rescue (though most of them seem to be volunteer only). On the slightly more outlandish side I've considered flight school to be a helicopter pilot (in spite of having never even been in one), though this was more a way to get a useful skill for search and rescue work. Dad suggested border patrol or park ranger, which I'm surprised to find out I'm actually already qualified for, though I'm not sure how suited to border patrol I am....well, maybe the Canadian border. On the more realistic side of things I've kept my massage license current in Washington and really only need a refresher course and/or continuing education to make that work. With my lack of personal commitment getting onto a cruise ship in the off season could be a realistic goal. As to a job that would really be for the money only being a bartender probably would only take foot work, and a few conversations with local barenders and/or owners.
I'm going to the Pacific NW Search & Rescue organization's general information meeting tonight at 7pm to see if it's worth my time to pursue it. Given my lack of a job I'll probably volunteer for a while just to keep myself occupied. If nothing else I'm sure there's plenty to be learned just for personal purposes. Wondering why I want to get into search and rescue? If you're reading this and you know me at all, it probably doesn't seem like that much of a stretch...
Wasn't long ago I was talking about working a fire team up in Alaska. All I really wanted to do was get lost. I just wanted to get myself into the middle of nowhere with a task to focus on. Some simple and defined purpose to fill out. One I could feel at least a little proud of. Something I considered to be worthwhile and respectable. Something I might point to one day when I'm broken down rocking in my chair on a porch somewhere and say to a passerby, "I looked death in the eye, I stared into the nothingness, into my own damned self. I carried survival on my back and staved off the inferno. I suffered heat and exhaustion. Took under my protection a thing of beauty and bled for its safety." And though I wouldn't say it, I would know that I had done something most people would naturally turn instinctively from and leave as a task for harder men. I would never say to a passerby that they could not do what I had done. I would just smile.
There's some salvation to be had from saving others. Like trying to barter for forgiveness. Telling yourself that you can be saved for the lives you wrest from oblivion. Fire fighters, EMT's, doctors. Save a life, earn your soul back. Because what job is more noble than taking another persons life, albeit temporarily, into your own hands?
Floatation Devices
I haven't really been on a river in something like eight years. Could be longer. I don't actually remember who I was with the last time I went rafting. Probably one of the youth groups I went to Mexico with. I seem to remember a rafting stop over on one of those trips. Then again it could have been a high school thing. Not important. What is important is that I miss it.
Laura, Dan, and I got ourselves hooked up with a small rafting outfit on the North Umpqua river just outside of Roseburg, OR. So, after piling into the car at 5:30am we drove...I drove our sleepy asses three and a half hours into southern Oregon for what is probably one of the better rafting rivers in this wonderful state. Not that I speak from a tremendous amount of experience. I can say however that the 14 mile stretch of river we covered contained enough class III and IV rapids to keep us busy every ten to fifteen minutes or so. Not a lot of drift time. Decent rapids too. Especially for the boat we had. Only four of us in a 5'11''x14' inflatable, which our guide told us is the raft equivalent to a ferrari. Smaller and narrower than most river rafts generally come it's got some manuverability at the cost of some stability. Which is what's so odd for me...
I don't have a real fear of water per se, however, it's definitely the planetary medium I find myself the least comfortable in. I'm not in control in the water. Oh, I can swim. Hardly worthy of competition, but my skills are more than servicable. Certainly enough to save my life should I find myself ejected by some class III hydraulic. Still, I throw a healthy respect to the envrionment nature saw fit to coat three quarters of this planet with. And in spite of my own issues, I never really felt uncomfortable out there. Honestly, it seemed like the stuff we went through, while extremely entertaining, wasn't really that difficult. Of course, this had a lot to do with having a guide with 14 years of near constant runs down the river. The man had his lines down pretty much pat. A decent raft and a good flight plan and you don't really need experienced rafters on the paddles. But I look back and think that I understand where my fascination with kayaks got started. It requires more control. More skill. Not just stroking forward and hitting the angles. Weight, balance, speed, control. Take what is basically a bumpy, wet ride in a raft and transform it into an endurance trial. Guess maybe I know what my new hobby ought to be.
Two of the guys who were in our little crew were following the raft with a couple of inflatable Tomcat kayaks. Almost frightening unstable to look at them, but I'll be damned if those guys managed to paddle through some of the rougher stuff we tackled without too much trouble. Three years kayaking experience didn't hurt them I'm sure, but it's not like these guys were even in good shape. One of them plowed through a pint of Busch at lunch, and the other guys somehow burned a couple of cigarettes (think he was dipping when he was on the river). Not to mention both of them being somewhat overweight. I just figured these sorts of activities were pretty much for the fit and healthy. While only one of them managed to do the "all-day sit-up," I feel better about my chances....heh, I find confidence in the strangest places.
I think, perhaps, it takes a certain measure of insanity as well. The previous day our guide managed to nearly lose a passenger, and in the process of pulling her back in the boat she managed to help him lose an oar. Somehow she reached over him, grapped the oar and pulled it out of its clip. I'm still not clear on all the mechanics, but suffice it to say I can vouch for the fact that it really did go AWOL. How do I know this? Because we found the damned thing. Going over the class III that had bucked the hapless lady out the day before, he pulled a quick turn after clearing it only to spot the 8' blue oar about six feet or so down (depth can be hard to really determine on the river). We eddy out and he starts pulling off all his gear. He gets out of the boat, wades out a little ways, then dives on in. Crazy bastartd came back up with the oar a few seconds later. Good day at the office, huh? Seriously. How was your day at work? Did you finish some paperwork that had been looming? Did you manage to get through your meeting without too much discomfort? Or did you dive into the base of a class III rapid and pull out the oar you lost the day before?
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Too Weary For Patriotism
When will there be enough rest for me? I'm not really all that tired right now, though I was up later than I ought to have been last night. It's not like my body doesn't have the energy for anything. I'm going to work out later tonight. Hard. I feel like I need a beating. It's like my brain won't just shut off. There's just too much going on to really clear the weariness away. Too many things I need to deal with and deal with soon. Jobs, girls, bills, goals, ailing family members, my future....my past. It's not like my life has even been that hard. Comparitively speaking. I'm sure Barbara would tell me "it is what it is." Seems to be her motto. There's a kind of fatalistic wisdom in it, but there are times when it just isn't all that comforting. Not that it's supposed to be. And now I'm rambling.
It's the Fourth of July. We're all supposed to be celebrating the birth and freedom of this nation of ours. For most people it means the same thing every other holiday means. Go be with people you like or feel an obligation to be civil to (e.g., family, friends, loved ones, etc.), then get drunk or eat too much or both. Nearly exclusive to the Fourth, however, is the wonderful added bonus of getting to indulge in some mild to moderate destruction. Celebrate the birth of a nation by blowing up a small part of it. As cynically snipish as I sound I'd be an utter hypocrite (probably am anyway) if I said I didn't enjoy it myself. Nothing makes a guy feel more warm inside than a little bit of controlled mayhem. Maybe it's a universally male thing, maybe it's just an American thing. Either way, heh, it is what it is.
Final observation on the Fourth: How is it that the Fourth of July won't shut down commerce in America, but Christmas and Easter do? My old place of employment is open till 7pm tonight, but is closed on Easter.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Things Contemplated
Current mood: http://www.myspace.com/greggraffin
The only thing I've ever hated nearly as much as a first day at work is job hunting. Nothing quite tops that near childlike feeling of being towed around and showed what to do by people sometimes not even your age. There's no real reason you should already know exactly what to do or even where to go to do it. It's understandable that you'll probably be asking stupid questions (stupid to the people you ask them to anyway) and following people around by the heels for even up to a couple of weeks. When I first started working on the dock at Meier & Frank I found myself breaking down a lot of cardboard and sweeping the dock three or four times a day because I just didn't know any better.
I guess it's with that in mind that I continue on with the close second. As far as jobs I'm capable of doing, or learning to do, I've got a lot of options. Since I'm not exactly starving on the street right now I can be a little picky about the type of job I'm willing to do, which to be honest is the kiss of death for a guy like me. I flourish when I have no options and just have to knuckle down and get something done. Give me options and I'll hem and haw over it until there isn't an option anymore. Sad, but true. I know this about myself, and I know this isn't a real exemplary way to be, so I'm trying to be more proactive about things this time.
Fire fighting still holds a place in my heart. The related possibility that's really sparking my interest now is Search and Rescue (though most of them seem to be volunteer only). On the slightly more outlandish side I've considered flight school to be a helicopter pilot (in spite of having never even been in one), though this was more a way to get a useful skill for search and rescue work. Dad suggested border patrol or park ranger, which I'm surprised to find out I'm actually already qualified for, though I'm not sure how suited to border patrol I am....well, maybe the Canadian border. On the more realistic side of things I've kept my massage license current in Washington and really only need a refresher course and/or continuing education to make that work. With my lack of personal commitment getting onto a cruise ship in the off season could be a realistic goal. As to a job that would really be for the money only being a bartender probably would only take foot work, and a few conversations with local barenders and/or owners.
I'm going to the Pacific NW Search & Rescue organization's general information meeting tonight at 7pm to see if it's worth my time to pursue it. Given my lack of a job I'll probably volunteer for a while just to keep myself occupied. If nothing else I'm sure there's plenty to be learned just for personal purposes. Wondering why I want to get into search and rescue? If you're reading this and you know me at all, it probably doesn't seem like that much of a stretch...
Wasn't long ago I was talking about working a fire team up in Alaska. All I really wanted to do was get lost. I just wanted to get myself into the middle of nowhere with a task to focus on. Some simple and defined purpose to fill out. One I could feel at least a little proud of. Something I considered to be worthwhile and respectable. Something I might point to one day when I'm broken down rocking in my chair on a porch somewhere and say to a passerby, "I looked death in the eye, I stared into the nothingness, into my own damned self. I carried survival on my back and staved off the inferno. I suffered heat and exhaustion. Took under my protection a thing of beauty and bled for its safety." And though I wouldn't say it, I would know that I had done something most people would naturally turn instinctively from and leave as a task for harder men. I would never say to a passerby that they could not do what I had done. I would just smile.
There's some salvation to be had from saving others. Like trying to barter for forgiveness. Telling yourself that you can be saved for the lives you wrest from oblivion. Fire fighters, EMT's, doctors. Save a life, earn your soul back. Because what job is more noble than taking another persons life, albeit temporarily, into your own hands?