This past week I was looking forward to wasting my few days off at home in the laziest manner possible. No blogging, no reading, no motorcycling, no nothing at all. I was completely prepared to do my best tree sloth imitation when Mike, (aka Kid Vicious) called. Despite my non-stop globe trotting and subsequent unavailability, Kid Vicious has remained one of the few people in the Kingdom of Rhode Island that considers me a friend. Even still, I debated picking up the phone for a second, knowing that if I did, my ‘perfect nothingness’ plan would be in jeopardy.

Against my better judgment, I answered, and within five minutes had plans with Kid Vicious for the next day. So much for being a sloth. Mike knows me well, and knows I’m a sucker for an adventure, even a non-motorized one. He’s always realized it’s not hard to talk me into things. The dumber the better.

Our plan? A fun day spent kayaking down the Blackstone River.

After finalizing the plans, my first memories of the Blackstone river flooded back. As kids walking along the bank, picking our way between discarded refrigerators and old tires, my cousin told me stories about the three-eyed mutant fish people routinely caught. A century of industrial pollution pretty much decimated the poor, sludge infested river. Due to this contamination, river water would actually run different colors, one day it would look like rust, the next it would be hazy purple. The polluted stench of the Blackstone was unique, one whiff was all it took for that noxious odor to be permanently burned into your brain. Back then this river could easily have been in the commercial with the stoic looking Indian sadly gazing at the pollution and shedding a tear.

The river has come a long way since then. Thanks to a massive cleanup effort, the river water is now safe to look at from a distance of around ten feet. The multicolored hues of the water are a thing of the past. The river is not yet safe to swim or fish in, but according to the Department of Environmental Management, with it’s ‘Class C’ certification the Blackstone is considered suitable for kayaking and ‘other secondary contact recreation.’

In other words, you can boat on the river, just don’t fall in.

Mike is a serious kayaker, and I am a newbie kayak owner that doesn’t take much seriously. I’ve never taken my big yellow kayak, nicknamed The Banana Boat, anywhere except the lake in my back yard. To me this day had disaster written all over it. And disaster equals adventure in my book. Let’s GO!

The Blackstone stench, the same one etched into my memory so long ago hit me as soon as I got out of the truck. Mike nodded and said, “Yeah, that’s the Blackstone all right. It has a smell all it’s own.”

Just in case things got too serious on this trip, I brought along a goofy Halloween hockey mask. I figured it’d be funny to kayak past people wearing this stupid thing, and it’d be an easy way to lighten up the potential seriousness of the day.

Before putting in at Plummer’s Landing, my friend Kid Vicious, being a serious kayaker, briefed me on the many hazards of kayaking the river, including whirlpools, waterfalls, submerged obstacles, rapids and downed trees. I found it interesting he waited until just before we launched to tell me how many different ways I could die out here. Then he drove his point home by telling me about river rescues, drowning, and all manner of unpleasant things that could happen if I didn’t take kayaking seriously.

After this serious yet uplifting conversation, I slipped on my un-serious mask, and it was time to set off for our designated downriver take out point, the Blackstone Gorge, ten nautical miles away.

Kid Vicious, Captain of the Love Boat

Kid Frenchy, Rookie Banana Boat Pilot

The first hour was tedious, not only because of the smell, but with Mike’s constant paranoid warnings about each and every obstacle. “Be careful over here! The current is strong and if you let it, the whirlpool will drag you to the shore.” Every time he would shout this warning, the Banana Boat would almost immediately end up beached or in reverse, and I’d be looking back the way I came. I was usually too busy taking pictures and laughing to really care. Kayaking may be serious, but it’s also FUN!

“Don’t hit the rock over here, it’ll upset your balance!” And he was right, when I hit the partially submerged rocks, I nearly capsized. Every time. Kayaks are fun, but they’re also UNSTABLE! I finally decided that the warnings, not the rocks, were the problem, and told Mike so. Things got much quieter after that.

One thing I didn’t realize when I agreed to the trip was how strenuous kayaking is. It takes a lot of muscle work to paddle through the current, and these are muscles that have happily atrophied over the past few years. Motorcycling doesn’t take a lot of physical strength, which is good because I have none. I had pain in places I didn’t even know I had muscles, and we’d only made it about two miles down river.

We drifted down a wide, slow section of the Blackstone, and I was lulled into a false sense of security by the serenity of my surroundings. A single gigantic blue heron flying alongside our two boat flotilla for a while was the only other sign of life we saw. It was even better than sitting home doing nothing. Kayaking may be unstable, but it’s also very peaceful.

The second thing I didn’t realize about kayaking is how quickly things can take a turn for the worse. Ahead of me was a fairly rapid looking set of strong rapids, and the only way through was to ride it out. In the lead, Mike hit the current and expertly made it through. Then it was my turn.

Still wearing my hockey mask, I hit the swirling current and thing went bad quickly. When I got into the rushing rapid, I must have hit something just under the surface, upsetting my balance enough that the river that had thus far remained happily outside my kayak now came gushing in, sinking the boat at once. Before I even knew what was happening, I was underwater in the Class C – unsuitable for swimming but safe for kayaking – river. Shit! Kayaking may usually be peaceful, but it can quickly go from serene to extremely DANGEROUS!

There’s nothing quite like the immediate reality of a possible drowning to get the old adrenaline gland working overtime. My boots filled with water and started dragging me down in one of the deepest parts of the river. I kicked furiously for the surface and grabbed my overturned kayak, which I then rode the rest of the way through the rapid – on top of what used to be the bottom of the boat. As Kid Vicious yelled and panicked, I managed to beach the partially submerged kayak on a tiny island in the middle of the river.

I used an old Gatorade bottle to put the intruding river back where it belonged, outside my kayak. My poor hockey mask floated away, but my camera remained safe and dry in the water tight compartment. The same couldn’t be said of my clothes, which were soaked with foul smelling river water. Awesome. After spending far too long bailing out the Banana Boat and wringing out my clothes, our expedition was once again underway.

A few hours later we encountered our second big hurdle of the day – sunset. My failed kayak neutral buoyancy experiment cost us so much time that we were still a few miles away from the Blackstone Gorge take out point when the sun disappeared. Kayaking is UNPREDICTABLE!

Bravely, or stupidly, depending on how you look at it, we continued paddling down river until we were completely enveloped by darkness. Everything faded into inky black nothingness, the rocks in the middle of the river, the trees, even Kid Vicious, it all simply vanished. Several times I shouted to the emptiness that we should get out and walk to my Jeep, but Mike was confident we’d make it to the gorge. We picked up the pace until my arms, shoulders and well insulated twelve-pack abs all screamed in agony from this unwelcome additional exertion. Unpredictable, dangerous and fun, Kayaking is also TIRING!

That confidence eroded when we heard the sound of violent rapids quickly approaching. We made our first smart decision of the day – to stop – and landed the kayaks on a small beach.

Mike wanted to drag the boats through the woods up to the road; I said forget them, let’s get ourselves out of the woods and come back for the kayaks the next day. We still had no solid idea where we were in relation to the Jeep, and could be dragging these stupid yellow boats for miles yet. Mike finally agreed. In complete darkness we blindly crashed through thick underbrush, twisted branches and sharp pricker bushes as we made our way to the relative safety of the road.

Starving from the day’s effort, we stopped into the closest restaurant, J&M’s Pizza, where I took the longest rest room sink-bath in history, trying to wash as much of the disgusting Class C river off as I could. Upon my first close inspection since falling in, I could find no trace of a developing third eye, and assumed I’d survive my dunking.

As soon as we sat down, Dave, a cuirous bar patron wandered over and asked what our story was. Exhausted from the efforts of our day, we gave him the Reader’s Digest version of our day, then asked how far the Blackstone Gorge was. “Several miles, but if you want, I’ll give you a ride.” With the last nagging problem of the day solved, we were able to have a good laugh about the strange turn of events our little trip took.

The next day we returned for the kayaks, and the immensity of our good decision – to stop – hit me. Two large drops lay fifty feet from where we landed, surrounded by boiling, angry rapids. Hitting either drop would have spelled certain disaster in the pitch dark.

Mike asked me if I’d kayak the Blackstone again.

Of course I would. Kayaking is an ADVENTURE!

Author: frenchy

One Response to “Abandon Ship”

1. Anonymous says:

   November 10, 2008 at 8:35 AM

   Thanks for the laugh! I think I might pass along the story to some of my kayaking compatriots. First rule of kayaking (among other things)…prepare for the worst, hope for the best. I promise you an adventure with much less downside potential. Hope the beer was cold.

   Reply