The water was really low so it was slow going. Along the way we pulled in to check fishing licenses and contact campers. We found a group of guys getting ready to leave. They'd had a huge party, we could tell by all the beer cans in the fire pit. They were all packed up except for an entire trash bag worth of cans. I was really surprised while I was in West Virginia at the general attitude the people seem to have about litter. Every campsite I visited I would ask them to please clean up when they left. Everyone would act so sincere and tell me how they couldn't stand people who left trash and they always cleaned up more trash than they brought...etc. By the way, did we have any trash bags they could have? Because they always clean up after themselves, but they didn't have any bags.
Here's Mitch now, with an expression I came to be very familiar with in the three weeks I worked with him. It's his "giving Liz crap" face.Mitch started out rowing, but I wanted to give it a try. I shouldn't have seemed so eager. Once I was at the helm he let me have it the rest of the day. The oars don't look that heavy. By the end of the day I could barely keep them out of the water!
Because the water was so low, there weren't a lot of places we could use the motor. Mitch and I both got the raft stuck at least once on rocks we couldn't avoid (by at least once I mean that Mitch got stuck once and I got stuck several times).
At 0700 when we started the water was still. Morning is the best time to be on the river.We stopped on a nice deserted beach for lunch. We watched an osprey catch a fish and eat it. Mitch taught me about reading the river, looking for the "V" where the currents are and the way to pick the best route. And of course when I first got the oars I learned how to paddle in a circle... when I was trying for a straight line. Eventually I got better. The only other time I've rowed has been in a row boat and everything is backwards when you're facing backwards. So it took some getting used to.
As the day wore on, it got hot in the full sun in the middle of the river. I was doing the usual (whining) when Mitch told me to just go for a swim. He took the raft, I took off my duty belt and uniform shirt and dove in (or rather what passes for diving from me. I failed that section of swim lessons). The New River isn't as refreshing to swim in as I would've liked. The temperature is similar to slightly old bathwater. Not fresh and hot out of the faucet, but close. Nonetheless, it was a nice break for my tired shoulders. But then to my embarrassment, my spaghetti arms were unable to pull me up the slippery sides of the raft. After several failed attempts (laughing detracts from my ability to use my muscles as well) that included one leg partially in the raft and hands scrabbling for purchase on the thick rubber, I swam to a rock and Mitch came to get me.
Mitch enjoyed himself immensely. Watching me struggle with muscle fatigue and exhaustion while he yelled, "Paddle right!" or "Back paddle!" as if our very lives depended on it gave him no end of amusement. After the last rapid of the day I just dropped the oars and decided that the current would take us the rest of the way, or Mitch would take pity on me and put in the motor. He put in the motor, but the cost was that he told everyone how beat I was.
We got done with our river patrol just as a stolen car was set on fire and rolled off a hill. It was a long day... but I like overtime.
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