By mimbresman
Kayak Beach, photo © 2007 by mimbresman. All rights reserved.
Winter 1977/78 – Mimbres River, NM:
I wanted to explore the Cook’s Range with my Jeep CJ-5. I get to the lower Mimbres River which was flooding due to warm rain melting snow in the mountains. On the far bank of the river was a sign that read “If you’re fool enough to cross this…it’ll cost you $20.00 to get pulled out!” I got out of the idling Jeep and looked in my wallet: $8.00. (I was just 17-years old.) I looked at the river, looked at the sign, and decided to go for it. Locked the hubs, put the CJ in 4-wheel drive, low-range and start across. Meanwhile a guy across the river was starting up his tractor, ready to take advantage of the situation. No problem until I was 3/4th the way across the river…water was coming in through the bottom edge of the doors and bubbling up through drain holes, and the current was starting to push the Jeep down stream. I steer upstream, mash the accelerator and hit the opposite bank, front wheels clawing their way on to dry ground. I made it! The first vehicle to do so!
Summer 1978 – Gila River, NM:
Nearly drowned in a riffle due to panic. I calmed myself, stood up and found myself in knee deep water.
Spring Break 1982 – Boquillas Canyon, Big Bend National Park, Rio Grande, TX/MX:
A friend and I hiked Telephone Canyon to the river while two other Range Bum buddies rafted down it in a small yellow raft. There was only room for two people on the raft so we had to take turns. The hike was hot, but the river was refreshing. We were treated to the sound of canyon wrens and mysterious flute music. We hiked out, shuttled to get the guys at the La Linda Bridge, then it was our turn to paddle Boquillas Canyon.
Spring Break 1983 – Mariscal Canyon, Big Bend National Park, Rio Grande, TX/MX:
A follow-up to the previous year’s excursion. We had a bigger raft, which proved to be a dog on the water. We ended up slogging through low water, dragging the raft for miles through the meanders before reaching the canyon.
Spring Break 1984 – Death Valley National Monument, CA:
Without water here, you die. We Range Bums found ourselves hanging out at the Furnace Creek Resort swimming pool more than we wanted to. It was unbearably hot! Determined to escape the crowds, we headed to the back country and were not disappointed. We saw all sorts of interesting formations due to water erosion or because of the lack of water. The most interesting place was “The Race Track,” a dry lake bed where rocks move on their own. How exactly they move is still a mystery but it is an awesome place indeed!
June 1994 – Arkansas River, CO:
A weekend whitewater retreat with two friends (ybonesy was one of them). Fun time on the water, and ended with us watching the OJ Simpson slow-speed car chase at the bar/restaurant in Buena Vista.
June 2001 – Pouder Cache River, CO:
Nearly drowned in a Class IV rapid when the inflatable kayak I was in hit a raft that was pinned on a rock, and rolled. I was forced underwater by the hydraulic pressure and was held there for several seconds before I could reach the surface, where I then had to deal with bouncing down the Class IV rapid with my body. I was exhausted when I reached the shore.
July 2001 – Puget Sound, WA:
Had a bad experience paddling big open water. Tide rips, strong tidal currents, waves, a weird and strange companion who I found I didn’t like too much, plus my inexperience as a paddler, all added to a very bad trip on the water.
March 2002 – Playa Mansa to Isla Borracha and back, Venezuela’s Caribbean Coast:
My wife was out of town and so I paddled the double kayak, solo, from the beach near our apartment to Isla Borracha 7 miles off shore. I was ill prepared for such an excursion; no food, only small mint candies and some water. When I got to Isla Borracha, I found there was not much there. I eventually had to paddle back to the mainland without eating. My only source of calories was “Mintitas,” small mint candies. I found that I could paddle for about 5 minutes per Mintita.
Summer 2002 – Playa Mansa, Venezuela’s Caribbean Coast:
Nearly drowned less than 20 meters from shore when I was practicing in my single kayak. I accidentally rolled the kayak, and was pinned inside the boat by the spray skirt. I tried reaching for the release toggle several times and I kept missing it. Finally, calming myself, I remembered the drill; rub my hand along the combing of the kayak until I reached the toggle. I was then able to pull and release the skirting and make a wet exit from the kayak.
New Year’s 2005/2006 – Cumana to Lechería, Venezuela:
A coastal kayak expedition with Douglas and Matt, a gay couple from San Francisco. They came to Venezuela to paddle, but had several bad experiences with police harassment. When they reached Cumana, they called me and I met them there. It was a good 5-day paddle of about 60 miles total. Very fun and interesting times. Matt was a diva, and Douglas did what he could to keep Matt from going into his “fits” (as Douglas called them). Douglas taught me how to surf my kayak on the big, following waves.
About this writing practice, mimbresman says: I wanted to write on this topic but got bogged down each time I started. Finally I decided to make a chronology of memorable experiences I’ve had with water. I guess that’s what this is all about: experimentation and writing.
-from Topic post, WRITING TOPIC – WATER WINGS
Cool post, Mimbresman! You’ve had some neat adventures. I can understand how you might get bogged down with this in regular writing mode. This overview piece can stand on its own, and it looks like a great start for an expanded version. Each entry looks like the summary for a “scene.” I have a couple of things in mind I’m a little blocked on and think I’ll try this approach as a start. Thanks!
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I agree with Ritergal. When I saw that you had been blocked in the writing practice on the Water Wings Topic and then decided to take the chronological approach, it seemed like such a good way to break through.
I want to try this approach, too, on some places where I feel stuck. I can see how jumping from decade to decade or year to year would be helpful in cracking things open.
Some of your adventures make my woods and rivers escapades look tame! What do you have planned for your next trip?
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Oh, and was the OJ Simpson slow-speed car chase really 1994? I can’t believe it’s been that long. I was glued to the TV that night, trailing the infamous white Ford Bronco. It must have been a culture shock to the system after navigating whitewater on the Arkansas River.
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I had forgotten all about the OJ white Bronco chase – how could I have? I remember that being a hot trip on the Arkansas River, relentless hot that river rafting can be when there are no trees or high canyon walls. And I remember we didn’t like Colorado as much as New Mexico, so we high-tailed it back over the state line, went to Taos, went on a mountain bike ride on that loop, what was it called, and we were taking our time at the top of the mountain, lying on our backs, watching the mountain goats, when all of a sudden mm said, Those clouds look ominous, or something like that. And boom, we got hit by the hardest, coldest hail storm on the ride down, and it was lightening all around and the hail was floating in puddles that had formed in the ruts on the single-track. We couldn’t stop, we were soaked to the bone and freezing. And then we got to the other woman’s car, she’d been driving, we peeled off our clothes with no concern over who was gonna see what, and we jumped in, turned on the heater, pulled blankets over ourselves and starting eating anything we could find. We ate sardines from a can and crackers, and they were the best food ever. That’s my memory of our trip; it must have blotted out the car chase the night before in BV.
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p.s., the chronology does seem like a great approach for getting to everything one knows about water, which I’ve not even begun to write. See how beginner’s mind can be so freeing…
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Loved this entry — and your willingness to share it:
Summer 1978 – Gila River, NM:
Nearly drowned in a riffle due to panic. I calmed myself, stood up and found myself in knee deep water.
I wonder how many of us nearly die every day due to panic?
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Thanks for the positive feedback. When I read writing practice topic about “water”, I thought that’s a good subject since I live less than one block off the Caribbean now. Like most writing, getting started is the hardest and this kind of just flowed (pun not intended) out of me. It was a good way of getting started.
I like to think of myself more of a desert rat than a tropical Jimmy Buffet parrothead dude. Living in the tropics, I feel like a fish out of water (pun intended). I think I prefer the desert. I certainly miss it.
Of that chronology, my favorite story is the first one. I loved that old Jeep (a 1964 CJ-5). It opened a lot of doors of exploration. I bought it when I was 16-years old for $950 with my own money which took a year to accumulate. That Jeep was tough! It could do almost anything! I learned from the tractor owner that I was the first vehicle out of about 8 or 9 before me to make it across that river. Several years later, I even survived a full roll-over in it, and put it back on its wheels by myself and drove it away. It was tough as nails!
Kayaking is still a fairly new thing for me. I don’t paddle as much as I should. Each time I go out, I love it. Its more equipment intensive than cycling, especially clean-up afterwards. To go out paddling takes a whole day’s commitment, including washing the boat(s) afterwards, but there’s nothing like going to that little remote beach (or others like it), sitting in the water with a kayak-sized cooler full of cold beer and swapping stories.
Getting caught in that hailstorm (on the South Boundary Trail) in Taos was wicked! Remember how cold it was ybonesy? Can you say hypothermia?!
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I went back and looked at the photo because of what you said about “there’s nothing like going to that little remote beach.” It’s a paradise, and I forget you’re living in a paradise. People go there for a week or two week’s vacation, and there you are living there, and you’ve been living there for, what, four years? It’s strange to think about that.
Yes, I remember the cold. The mountains are unpredictable that way. It must have been about this time of year, hot-hot at the river, and then it dipped to freezing or thereabouts on the mountaintop in a matter of minutes.
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mm, I was just perusing down the page and had to stop at this photo again. I can’t believe how clear the water is. Look at all the layers of blues and greens.
ybonesy’s right. It’s strange to think about the fact that you live in Paradise.
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Where is your over night on a small Venezuelan Is. with crackers and a bottle of rum ¿
X Anaco
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