Return of the Floaters
As you are now reading this blog it is apparent that yes, I survived the perils of the Buffalo River. Our minds, bodies, and spirits were brutally tested by the forces of evil, ultimately succeeding fruitfully on the wings of wholesome Jerky Boy’s humor and jerky beef tumors. (what)
I was not however, spared from a frigid dip in said river. We had come so far – almost the entire trip had blissfully passed without so much as an innocent splash of river warf on our clothes and inside our canoe. We had become uber men, quasi canoe super beasts, ready to battle any and all rapids that mother earth could toss our direction. It was in the peak of our vainglorious narcissism that she catapulted the head of our man canoe into a stump, then our glorious tail into yet another stump. In less than 10 seconds we were sunk, bobbing down the river in 40 degree water, clutching to the canoe, a wetbag, and our dignity.
After finally escaping the clutches of the river we had so dominated earlier, our frustration was quickly replaced by yet another realization that our pullout was less than a mile down river. Not only had we capsized, but we did so in the final stretch of the 24 mile trip. Oh how close we came to total domination – congrats to G&B for achieving such canoe mastery and avoiding a fate of humiliation and noobitude.
For a more visual representation of the trip see our home page for pics and the videos section for some live footage of the debauchery.
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