Simple Arithmetic: Moose + Camera + Hornet + Canoe = "TROUBLE"

"Okay, so there I was, floating down river without the benefit of a canoe, at a rate which was more than enough to hold my interest." How I got there is not really important, and in fact is a trifle embarrassing. There was this moose, okay, that viciously atti Well, let me start at the beginning, which is only logical.

It was a cool autumn day, with the leaves just turning color particularly the maples along many of the rivers. Not having anything better to do, like wash the truck or chop some wood for example, I decided to drive up to East Anywhere, find a river to float down, and get some fall foliage pictures to send to disbelieving relatives in Southern California. They thought I was out of my mind when I tried to describe the colors of New England forests to them.

About ten miles past the last sign of civilization a rundown motorhome guarded by two timberwolves, as I recall I came upon a decent sized river meandering its way through marshes and red maple swamps. I figured I'd just float downstream for a couple hours, or until the current became more than I could paddle against. Always with safety foremost in my mind, I made a mental note right then to remember to bring my PFD on my next trip. Well, about half an hour down the river, which was behaving nicely, as a river should on such a trip, I came upon this moose just kind of hanging out in the shallows acting like a "Grade A" photo op. I whipped out the ole Pentax, slapped on the zoom and, letting the canoe just float along, patted myself on the back for the pictures of this I'd be sending to the folks out west.

I focused in the behemoth and started snapping pictures, progressively zooming in closer and closer until I could see pieces of river scum on its dripping jowls, and the piercing gaze of its eyes. Eyes that seemed to be saying, "I am wild, I am strong, I am the embodiment of nature.So not hitherto being aware of my camera's ability to translate piercing gazes, I took the camera off my face for a reality check, and immediately realized that reality meant a towering, antler-armed monster moose, whose piercing gaze (I was now able to correctly decipher across the ten feet that separated my canoe from its nose) was actually saying, "Prepare to die."
Reality never did work well for me.

Well, I picked up a paddle and quickly brought the canoe up to planing speed, skimming over rocks, logs, and small islands, leaving the moose to ponder the uselessness of muscle and stature in the face of the evoultionary curse of stupidity. So. I was sort of chilling out after my sprint when the hornet bounced off my forehead and landed between my glasses and the rest of me. The resulting frenzied battle to save my eyeball (a complex series of events that would only bore you to tears) ultimately landed me in the drink.

A number of things happened when the canoe flipped, none of which I appreciated. The water closed around me like a cold, wet, uhhhh, like a cold wet river actually. My camera equipment sank to the bottom like it was on a mission. The canoe, doing all it could to make a bad situation worse, hung up on a snag and abandoned its duty to accompany me downstream. Here I was, up the creek as the expression goes, and the only thing I did have was the bloody paddle. It was doing me no good, so I tossed it away as I tried to gain some sort of footing.

All this because of a stupid moose. The hornet was undoubtedly a buddy of his. I hope he drowned. Speaking of drowning, the current had picked up noticeably, and I figured to hell with the footing I had as much chance of standing as I did staying dry. Heh. So I struck out for the far shore, occasionally bouncing off a few large boulders. My downstream progress continued at a rate best described as "brisk." Once, and eddy swung me close enough to shore that I almost got a hand on the sign that said: Danger Portage Ahead.

Around the next bend I could see the river taper off into the horizon. I knew this meant trouble, because this is something rivers tend to do when there is, shall we say, an abrupt change in elevation. I figured my chances for survival would not be offered favorable odds in Las Vegas. As luck would have it, though, some local genius had strung a safety cable across the river about twenty feet before I would have conclusively verified the law of gravity. Ten minutes later I pulled myself out of the river, cold, tired, a tad ticked off, and wondering where the nearest bar was. Or any civilization for that matter. Okay, losses? A camera. A paddle. Some minor patches of skin. I figured I could probably go back and get the canoe. It seemed stuck pretty good
last I saw it.

I decided to hike a trail that snaked off to the west and seemed to lead somewhere. But first, one last matter remained. I turned my back to the river and mooned it. I turned around again just in time to see my canoe, free but swamped to the gunwales, skim under the cable and hurtle into oblivion. I silently cursed my fate, and turned to new adventures. The bar could wait. What I needed now was a moose tag. And a rifle.

By Chuck Horbert

"30 Ways to tell if you've been canoeing too long"

1. You forget the name of the river you're on.
2. You think you recognize someone on the street and you ask what (paddling) club he belongs to.
3. You describe your house as being on road right.
4. You kneel while watching TV.
5. You can't associate the word "strainer" with cooking utensils.
6. "Roll" is not a type of bread.
7. A "brace" is not a piece of medical equipment. 8. Your paddle has a name.
9. You're late for your wedding and find yourself in dress clothes sliding down a river bank checking the water level gauge.
10. You go paddling on New Year's Day for the ice cream.
11. A gourmet meal consists of gorp and Gatorade
12. You get a great deal on a new car, but you don't buy it because the colour clashes with your boat.
13. You think of garbage bags as something warm and dry to wear.
14. Someone compliments you on your new suit and you wonder whether they're referring to the wet or dry one.
15. You have more money invested in topo maps than stereo gear.
16. You pick out a new car solely because the model still has rain gutters.
17. You never worry about getting your feet wet in a rainstorm.
18. You start a phone chain when it rains heavily on Friday.
19. You realize that you have just traded a vehicle that runs for a canoe.
20. You finish a trip and have no idea what day it is.
21. You actually like the smell of neoprene.
22. You want to try on clothes at the mall and you strip down beside the clothes rack.
23. You have no doubt that anything can be fixed with duct tape.
24. Your doormat says "Put in Here"
25. You carefully arrange your garage (basement/backyard/dining room)to fit more boats.
26. A "painter" is a type of line.
27. Calling your answering machine gives the water levels.
28. You think "heavy rain" is a good weather report.
29. You can't understand why anyone would want an airbag in a car - or how it would fit.
30. You see nothing strange about carry a canoe over a mile on a trail that you wouldn't even consider hiking on.