Raft Wenches, Retards and Screwing: A Labor Day Trip Report about my weekend hanging out and paddling with Denise and Kathy. And some other stuff, as well.
Let me prequalify this blog with a few notes:
(1) This is a work of historical fiction. Only the dates and people mentioned are real. Everything else in this blog is just bullshit.
(2) There's a lot of adult content contained in this blog. If you are easily offended, click your 'back' button now. If you like to read about Screwing, Spanking, Sexy Lingere and Blowing, Doggy Stylie, etc; read on!
(3) This is all meant to be in good fun and not intended to be offensive to anyone. I may tweak a few noses in this story, but be aware, I only fuck with people I like.
Raft Wenches, Retards and Screwing:
My Labor Day Weekend Trip to visit Dneesh. Part 1:
Big plans were made on the BoaterTalk.com's Liquid Lounge board for a BT paddling get together at Dneesh's new cabin over the labor day weekend.
Unfortunately, the week before the Holiday, the hurricane in the gulf had driven already record high gas prices through the roof. In one week, average gas prices zoomed up to well over $3 per gallon. So it went from being a big party to just Dneesh, K1chic and me. You would think that sounds pretty damn good, but let me tell you; managing two hot wenches is hard work.
I had to stay home Friday night to attend Bryce's first Band performance at a Cordova High School football game. It was pretty neat. I'm not much of a sports fan, and haven't been to a highschool football game since I was in highschool. Cordova lost 24-17, but it was getting pretty close there for a while.
I already had Cotton (my TrailBlazer company vehicle that is solid white and has NO trim on it at all, therefore, 'Cotton') loaded and ready to go for Saturday morning. We made it to I-40 eastbound by 7 a.m. Cotton and I finally made it around Chattanooga and down Highway 64 to the Ocoee around 3 p.m. eastern time. For a Labor Day Weekend Saturday, it looked pretty uncrowded. Denise gave me instructions over the phone on how to find her place. I swear, somewhere close to Franklin, I saw a sign that said, "AINTRY 5 MILES." What a pretty drive, though. I was having a hard time not running into something because I was constantly rubber necking back and forth to look at the beautiful views. I finally made the BP station just outside of Franklin, and Denise came down the hill in her little white Mimi to fetch me.
The driveway is so steep and rutted out, I thought I might have to use the 'ole come-along to make it up. With persistance and a little encouragement from my hostess, Cotton and I finally made it to the top of her hill.
Unfolding out of the vehicle after so many hours took me a few minutes. My progress was aided by Toby the Terrible. Toby, or "Tittie Baby" as Denise sometimes calls him, was nuzzlin' me and sniffin' on me like he was trying to say, "Cmon, dude, whata ya sittin' there for? Get out and Let's Play!" Toby is a beautiful blonde Lab with eyes of copper-gold. He's a snuggler, nuzzler, lick yer face kinda' dog. Although he's a great dog, Toby has had some difficulty adjusting from city/suburban life to life in the hills of western North Carolina.
Denise's place is part of what was once a large mountain farm/homestead. A little mountain valley, or 'cove', hemmed in by steep ridges, I hope we can get back up there sometime during the fall color change, cause its gonna be BeeeUTful. The original farmstead was broken up and sold off in several large parcels about 25 years ago. Her cabin is high on one side of the 'cove', deep in the trees.
One of the neighbors bought a dozen chickens for their children to raise. The kids never really took to messing with the chickens. Toby, on the other hand has discovered that if you happen on the chickens when they are out in the open, they are a hell of a lot of fun to chase and subdue. So far Toby has two little chicken decals on his collar. He says they taste just like frog legs. He's working hard on getting that third decal on his collar.
Denise took me on the tour. She showed me her nice big garage. Her Diesel was standing against the wall next to her grandson's little Jive (Jibe?). The storage is laid out nicely. The washer and dryer are on the side next to the door that leads from the garage into the cabin. Nicely divided down the middle by a couple of support posts. Clothes line neatly joining the posts provided a great place to hang your wet paddling gear out to dry.
What's that fluttering from the clothesline? Holy Shit, its her lingere. My first thought was, "Wow, sexy underwear."
My second thought was, "Wow, those are pretty Big."
And my final thought on the matter was, "What kinda woman's got such funky drawers that she's gotta' hang 'em out in the garage to air out?"
Moving hastily from the garage, we head back outside and around the house to the front porch. Wow, sweet. Kinda' like Tarzan's TreeHouse. The steep hillside with the cabin nestled neatly into its shoulder, makes the porch seem very high. A sliding (soon to be double french) door leads from the porch into the main floor of the cabin. Its got a nice cozy greatroom with a real stone fireplace. At the end of the greatroom there are stairs leading up to the most excellent loft. That's what Denise calls her "puter room".
Back on the main floor we find a nice roomy kitchen. The Mistress' bedroom across from the full bath.
Denise readily accepted my offer to help her out with any man chores that she needed done. With a gleam in those dark eyes, she asked me if I knew how to SCREW.
Somewhat taken aback by her blunt honesty about what she needed done, I stuttered, "Y,y,yeah, I know how to SCREW."
"Good," she says, "cause I've got a few things that need doin' that require SCREWING." "I've got plenty of tools," she continued, "pretty much anything we'll need to do the SCREWING I need done."
About this time I noticed sweat starting to run down the back of my neck. I was thinkin', "Shit, she's even more brazen in person than she is on BT." What am I gonna do? I'm a married man. . .
Denise heaves a box up onto the kitchen counter. "That's a light fixture for the kitchen ceiling fan," she says. "I need to get it wired up and SCREWED together so I can have some light in here."
I was so relieved that I almost wet myself. Whew! "Sure, I can hook it up and SCREW it together for you."
On investigating the needed repair, I discovered that there were three crucial SCREWS missing. I told Denise about the missing SCREWS, and she said, "No problem, I've got a whole drawer full of SCREWS out in the garage."
We poured the drawer full of SCREWS out on the workbench. It didn't take long before we had found three SCREWS of sufficient LENGTH and WIDTH for the SCREWING we needed to get done.
With the right TOOLS, a STEPSTOOL and the correct SCREWS, we made short work of the light fixture. In no time at all she had me SCREWING in a new light bulb. I'm pretty sure I caught Denise trying to peek up my shorts. The flashlight shining up my leg was a dead giveaway.
I asked Denise if there was any more SCREWING she needed me to do for her. She glanced at the clock and said, "It's only nine-thirty, we've got time to SCREW around with a couple of other things." We head outside and down the steps that lead to the cabin's walk-out basement apartment.
What a neat place this was turning out to be. There's a nice concrete porch that's shaded by the deck/porch up on the main floor. Inside is a nice little den with plenty of crashin' potential. To one side of the den is a kitchen with everything except a stove. Microwave, fridge, sinks, etc. Full bathroom down the hallway past the kitchen. Across the den, a short hallway leads to two small bedrooms. One has a nice Queen sized bed. The other has a set of kiddie bunk beds and a small double bed of questionable heritage.
The needed chore down here was the un-SCREWING of the lightweight hooks that had been used to hang the porch swing; replacing them with much heavier lag SCREW type eye bolts. Again, with the aid of the step stool, and extra leverage provided by a BIG SCREW driver, it didn't take long to un-SCREW the old SCREWS and crank the new SCREWS into place.
Okay, enough with the SCREWING stuff.
After scolding me for sleeping out on the porch and not using one of her nice bedrooms, Denise and Toby bid me good night and headed back up to the main level. I did a little boating safety review, scribbled a few notes in my journal and read for a little while. Before too long it started to get pretty cold. I realized that, with the usual Labor Day weedend heat I hadn't bothered to pack anything except shorts. I soon retreated to the warmth of my sleeping bag, and crashed like a pile of rocks.
SUNDAY:
I'm dreamin' about hot boater babes nibbling and licking my ears, when I wake up and realize Toby is standing there licking my ear. Good Mornin' Toby! Denise leans out over the rail from the deck above and asked if I wanted some fresh coffee.
It's lookin' like a great day. Still chilly, I pull on a second t-shirt and wonder where the drybag is that contains my fleece pullover.
Denise makes great coffee. I snarfed some of her tasty super crunch raisin bran. Mugs full of steaming coffee, we headed out front and each went through our pre-boating preparation. Miss Piggy, my light blue 13 foot self-bailing raft, was rolled up in the back of Cotton's cargo area.
We loaded up and took Toby for a last walkabout before shutting him up in his garage apartment. Denise and I jumped into Cotton and skittered down the hill and out through Franklin toward the Ocoee.
A quick detour to the super wally world for supplies stretched out longer than expected. Now we're really travelling on "Louie Time". We're almost an hour late when we pull into the put-in for the Lower Ocoee.
Cathy (K1-chik) was pretty mad, uh, I mean Glad to finally see us arrive. We decided to set shuttle before boating so we'll have everything waiting for us at the takeout.
I explained to the girls that I needed to get Blown before we can boat. And we'll probably want to retreat to a shady spot in the parking lot before the Blowing begins. We relocated to a secluded spot in the parking lot and I whipped out the equipment that would be needed for the Blow Job. (12 volt blower, double action pump and , of course Ms. Piggy, the raft.)
A sweaty half hour later I'd had all the Blowing I could handle. Ms. Piggy was Hard as a Rock and ready to go. We dropped her in the pond above the dam for a little pre-put-in paddle practice. Along about this time is when I started to notice that the Wenches are a little apprehensive about this rafting adventure.
Further discussion revealed that neither of them had had much experience with Grumpy's. They'd both heard all the horror stories about the carnage that awaits the unsuccessful attempts at flossing Grumpy's teeth. I did my best to be reassuring, but having both paddled with me (kayaking) before, they both knew that I was a better swimmer than paddler. My revelation of my buddy, Bob's thrashing BeatDown at Grumpy's on Labor Day a couple of years ago probably didn't help to instill much confidence.
The Wenches didn't take long to succumb to my control and soon were responding to my commands like good Wenches should. We paddled over to the top of the ramp and pull Ms. Piggy out and stowed her in a shady spot with Denise to stand guard while Kathy and I went to set shuttle.
It's amazing how much quicker you can hitch a ride when you're standing beside the road with a buxom blonde lady at your side. Kathy and I had no sooner walked out to the exit driveway, at the takeout, when All Three of the first three vehicles to pass, stopped to offer us a ride.
We reunited with Denise at the put-in and started to carry Ms. Piggy down the ramp. Have you ever tried to hump a raft down the ramp with a couple of Girls? Man, if that elderly tourist couple from Florida hadn't offered to help, we'd have never gotten Ms. Piggy in the water. I'm still real sorry about accidentally kicking over the old lady's Oxygen Tank.
Once we got the boat in the water, the Wenches were really looking nervous. There was Grumpy, GROWLIN' right in front of us, and I think they had less than total faith in my assurances that with three "no class" paddlers we'd easily make the crucial 'slot move' that leads to a successful ferry away from Grumpy's hole.
The Wenches jumped into Ms. Piggy and got all tucked in tight as I pushed the boat toward the current. We hit the current with a good upstream ferry angle and easily coasted into the lower slot. One, Two, Three strokes and we were bouncing our way through those Tasty Waves, dodging the holes as we went.
Man, was I, um, I mean, were THEY relieved. No shameful sliding the boat down the pipe slide at the lower put-in for This Crew! The Wenches even grabbed their unfamiliar one bladed paddles correctly by the T-grip. And these Wenches were kayakers!
With our confidence bolstered by our successful run through Grumpy's, we proceeded, with little difficulty, down through the Rock Garden toward Broken Nose.
We set up good for Broken Nose. Paddling hard we swooped around the curving tongue and Boofed off the very edge of the upper ledge and over the first drop. Making a hard left turn, we caught a fine line down the lower drops, skirting by the center boulder on the left side. Being so light, with such powerful paddlers, we hit the final hole with so much momentum that we barely slowed down.
This R-2 / R-3 Shit is the fuckin' BOMB !!!
Heading into Double Suck I thought I had waited too late to make the right to left ferry move above the drop. The Raft Wenches suprised me, however, and with a quick upstream ferry we whipped Ms. Piggy around to the right just in time . . . BOOM ! . . .WHOOSH ! . . . YEE HAW !! Perfect shot.
A quick spin for a Deja View back upstream. I'm not sure whether it looks worse from above, as you go over the lip, or from below. It is definitley worthy of it's name.
Just above Double Trouble, I threw MFD (Mega Foamie Dude) out behind us. Double Trouble wasn't our prettiest run of the day. We did hit all three waves, but not with the perfect angle to achieve maximum height. On the bright side, none of us fell out right in front of the camera folks.
We did a little ferry work as we coasted downstream, and Denise was able to snag MFD. He wanted to eddy out for a Safety Break, but we managed to talk him out of it.
Before long we were coasting through the dolldrums. What A Beautiful Day !
Goforth creek was somewhat crowded with outfitter rafts, so we cruised right on by and paddled on down toward Table Saw.
We had a good entry line at Table Saw, but we did a couple of short typewriter sidesurfs on the upper diagonals (This Thing Is LIGHT!) and spun out at the bottom. We managed to make the last eddy on the left below Table Saw. Whew! Well nobody fell out and we didn't hit anything solid . . . Perfect Run!
We took a break below Table Saw and watched some hard boaters and several outfitter trips come through.
Observing the passing boats making their Table Saw runs, we noticed one outfitter boat coming down the rapid with all seven passengers sitting on their butts in the floor with their paddles held vertically. They drifted toward us after a really sloppy run and Denise said, "Oh, they're all kids . . . They're all RETARDED KIDS, Can't you see?"
Well, Kathy and I gave them a closer look as they passed by . . . "Denise, they're not RETARDED, they're only ASIAN KIDS!" We gave Denise a huge load of shit about her being a Politidally Incorrect Racist Bitch, and told her that we were gonna have to get her some glasses . . . and maybe a muzzle.
When we finally decide to leave our berth below Table Saw, we discover that we are stuck in our eddy landing spot. Push this way, Paddle that way, Scoot, Jerk, Bounce up and down. We aren't going anywhere. "Somebody's Fat Ass is sitting on a Rock," I think to myself. I hop across the thwarts to the opposite end of the boat. We'll try to work our way free from this end. . . . "What tha". There's a big assed boulder resting up under the bow. I guess with the Wenches sitting back on the second thwart and my big ass in the stern, the upraised bow wasn't noticeable. With a little pushing, prying and jumpin' around, we finally slid her free.
I had been telling the Wenches to watch how the outfitters boats ran Diamond Splitter. Unfortunately, a good many of them were running it down the LEFT side. I can't stand to run the chicken route when there's a perfectly doable line that Kicks Ass!
We paddled out of our eddy with an upstream ferry angle and, once again, I had to command the Wenches to quit paddling before we ran into the rock we were trying to skirt on the downstream side. We made the slot move to the right, but dropped in with too much left to right momentum. So we flushed out to the right side and missed the best part of the ride below.
We had some good rides on the fun stuff below Diamond Splitter. I was informed by the Wenches that they weren't interested in any surfing or doing 'helocoptor spins' through some of the more straightforward rapids. Nor were they interested in any 'mystery moves' or 'side stalls' at Cat's Pajamas. So we ran everything pretty normal. :-( No goofy shit!
Below Cat's, we eddied out on river right and while watching the outfitter guides play tricks on their charges, I explained to the Wenches what 'Cleaning the Plate' was all about. This is a raft guide codeword for positioning the boat to result in a sidestall, dumptruck, or other raft playboat move that would dump All of the customers into the drink, while the guide manages to land the boat back upright with him/her still in it.
Once we had seen two or three plates cleaned, we headed on down to Hell's Hole and the PowerHouse.
Again, I sensed tension from the Wenches. They explained that, being low riding kayakers, their approach to Hell's Hole was sneaking the rapid on the left, then maybe playing in the hole from Below. One more time, I had to explain that, unlike in a kayak, in a raft, you don't sneak or skirt AnyThing that can be run head on.
I must say, that in over 25 years of running the Ocoee, I've never had a better hit there than I did that Sunday. Our line took us over the wave at such an angle that the uninitiated would be certain that the raft wasn't long enough to ride over That Wave without doing a bow over stern flip. We hit the hole dead center, popped to the top, and did a little one second side surf on the crest that made our neck hair stand up. WEEEE HAAAAH!
A couple of backstrokes and we pivoted off the right lip of Butt Wiper and bounced through the tailwaves of PowerHouse.
The Raft Wenches were elated. What a Great Run. We chattered all the way to the lower takeout.
"Dinner and Day Two" . . . to be continued . . .
Let me prequalify this blog with a few notes:
(1) This is a work of historical fiction. Only the dates and people mentioned are real. Everything else in this blog is just bullshit.
(2) There's a lot of adult content contained in this blog. If you are easily offended, click your 'back' button now. If you like to read about Screwing, Spanking, Sexy Lingere and Blowing, Doggy Stylie, etc; read on!
(3) This is all meant to be in good fun and not intended to be offensive to anyone. I may tweak a few noses in this story, but be aware, I only fuck with people I like.
Raft Wenches, Retards and Screwing:
My Labor Day Weekend Trip to visit Dneesh. Part 1:
Big plans were made on the BoaterTalk.com's Liquid Lounge board for a BT paddling get together at Dneesh's new cabin over the labor day weekend.
Unfortunately, the week before the Holiday, the hurricane in the gulf had driven already record high gas prices through the roof. In one week, average gas prices zoomed up to well over $3 per gallon. So it went from being a big party to just Dneesh, K1chic and me. You would think that sounds pretty damn good, but let me tell you; managing two hot wenches is hard work.
I had to stay home Friday night to attend Bryce's first Band performance at a Cordova High School football game. It was pretty neat. I'm not much of a sports fan, and haven't been to a highschool football game since I was in highschool. Cordova lost 24-17, but it was getting pretty close there for a while.
I already had Cotton (my TrailBlazer company vehicle that is solid white and has NO trim on it at all, therefore, 'Cotton') loaded and ready to go for Saturday morning. We made it to I-40 eastbound by 7 a.m. Cotton and I finally made it around Chattanooga and down Highway 64 to the Ocoee around 3 p.m. eastern time. For a Labor Day Weekend Saturday, it looked pretty uncrowded. Denise gave me instructions over the phone on how to find her place. I swear, somewhere close to Franklin, I saw a sign that said, "AINTRY 5 MILES." What a pretty drive, though. I was having a hard time not running into something because I was constantly rubber necking back and forth to look at the beautiful views. I finally made the BP station just outside of Franklin, and Denise came down the hill in her little white Mimi to fetch me.
The driveway is so steep and rutted out, I thought I might have to use the 'ole come-along to make it up. With persistance and a little encouragement from my hostess, Cotton and I finally made it to the top of her hill.
Unfolding out of the vehicle after so many hours took me a few minutes. My progress was aided by Toby the Terrible. Toby, or "Tittie Baby" as Denise sometimes calls him, was nuzzlin' me and sniffin' on me like he was trying to say, "Cmon, dude, whata ya sittin' there for? Get out and Let's Play!" Toby is a beautiful blonde Lab with eyes of copper-gold. He's a snuggler, nuzzler, lick yer face kinda' dog. Although he's a great dog, Toby has had some difficulty adjusting from city/suburban life to life in the hills of western North Carolina.
Denise's place is part of what was once a large mountain farm/homestead. A little mountain valley, or 'cove', hemmed in by steep ridges, I hope we can get back up there sometime during the fall color change, cause its gonna be BeeeUTful. The original farmstead was broken up and sold off in several large parcels about 25 years ago. Her cabin is high on one side of the 'cove', deep in the trees.
One of the neighbors bought a dozen chickens for their children to raise. The kids never really took to messing with the chickens. Toby, on the other hand has discovered that if you happen on the chickens when they are out in the open, they are a hell of a lot of fun to chase and subdue. So far Toby has two little chicken decals on his collar. He says they taste just like frog legs. He's working hard on getting that third decal on his collar.
Denise took me on the tour. She showed me her nice big garage. Her Diesel was standing against the wall next to her grandson's little Jive (Jibe?). The storage is laid out nicely. The washer and dryer are on the side next to the door that leads from the garage into the cabin. Nicely divided down the middle by a couple of support posts. Clothes line neatly joining the posts provided a great place to hang your wet paddling gear out to dry.
What's that fluttering from the clothesline? Holy Shit, its her lingere. My first thought was, "Wow, sexy underwear."
My second thought was, "Wow, those are pretty Big."
And my final thought on the matter was, "What kinda woman's got such funky drawers that she's gotta' hang 'em out in the garage to air out?"
Moving hastily from the garage, we head back outside and around the house to the front porch. Wow, sweet. Kinda' like Tarzan's TreeHouse. The steep hillside with the cabin nestled neatly into its shoulder, makes the porch seem very high. A sliding (soon to be double french) door leads from the porch into the main floor of the cabin. Its got a nice cozy greatroom with a real stone fireplace. At the end of the greatroom there are stairs leading up to the most excellent loft. That's what Denise calls her "puter room".
Back on the main floor we find a nice roomy kitchen. The Mistress' bedroom across from the full bath.
Denise readily accepted my offer to help her out with any man chores that she needed done. With a gleam in those dark eyes, she asked me if I knew how to SCREW.
Somewhat taken aback by her blunt honesty about what she needed done, I stuttered, "Y,y,yeah, I know how to SCREW."
"Good," she says, "cause I've got a few things that need doin' that require SCREWING." "I've got plenty of tools," she continued, "pretty much anything we'll need to do the SCREWING I need done."
About this time I noticed sweat starting to run down the back of my neck. I was thinkin', "Shit, she's even more brazen in person than she is on BT." What am I gonna do? I'm a married man. . .
Denise heaves a box up onto the kitchen counter. "That's a light fixture for the kitchen ceiling fan," she says. "I need to get it wired up and SCREWED together so I can have some light in here."
I was so relieved that I almost wet myself. Whew! "Sure, I can hook it up and SCREW it together for you."
On investigating the needed repair, I discovered that there were three crucial SCREWS missing. I told Denise about the missing SCREWS, and she said, "No problem, I've got a whole drawer full of SCREWS out in the garage."
We poured the drawer full of SCREWS out on the workbench. It didn't take long before we had found three SCREWS of sufficient LENGTH and WIDTH for the SCREWING we needed to get done.
With the right TOOLS, a STEPSTOOL and the correct SCREWS, we made short work of the light fixture. In no time at all she had me SCREWING in a new light bulb. I'm pretty sure I caught Denise trying to peek up my shorts. The flashlight shining up my leg was a dead giveaway.
I asked Denise if there was any more SCREWING she needed me to do for her. She glanced at the clock and said, "It's only nine-thirty, we've got time to SCREW around with a couple of other things." We head outside and down the steps that lead to the cabin's walk-out basement apartment.
What a neat place this was turning out to be. There's a nice concrete porch that's shaded by the deck/porch up on the main floor. Inside is a nice little den with plenty of crashin' potential. To one side of the den is a kitchen with everything except a stove. Microwave, fridge, sinks, etc. Full bathroom down the hallway past the kitchen. Across the den, a short hallway leads to two small bedrooms. One has a nice Queen sized bed. The other has a set of kiddie bunk beds and a small double bed of questionable heritage.
The needed chore down here was the un-SCREWING of the lightweight hooks that had been used to hang the porch swing; replacing them with much heavier lag SCREW type eye bolts. Again, with the aid of the step stool, and extra leverage provided by a BIG SCREW driver, it didn't take long to un-SCREW the old SCREWS and crank the new SCREWS into place.
Okay, enough with the SCREWING stuff.
After scolding me for sleeping out on the porch and not using one of her nice bedrooms, Denise and Toby bid me good night and headed back up to the main level. I did a little boating safety review, scribbled a few notes in my journal and read for a little while. Before too long it started to get pretty cold. I realized that, with the usual Labor Day weedend heat I hadn't bothered to pack anything except shorts. I soon retreated to the warmth of my sleeping bag, and crashed like a pile of rocks.
SUNDAY:
I'm dreamin' about hot boater babes nibbling and licking my ears, when I wake up and realize Toby is standing there licking my ear. Good Mornin' Toby! Denise leans out over the rail from the deck above and asked if I wanted some fresh coffee.
It's lookin' like a great day. Still chilly, I pull on a second t-shirt and wonder where the drybag is that contains my fleece pullover.
Denise makes great coffee. I snarfed some of her tasty super crunch raisin bran. Mugs full of steaming coffee, we headed out front and each went through our pre-boating preparation. Miss Piggy, my light blue 13 foot self-bailing raft, was rolled up in the back of Cotton's cargo area.
We loaded up and took Toby for a last walkabout before shutting him up in his garage apartment. Denise and I jumped into Cotton and skittered down the hill and out through Franklin toward the Ocoee.
A quick detour to the super wally world for supplies stretched out longer than expected. Now we're really travelling on "Louie Time". We're almost an hour late when we pull into the put-in for the Lower Ocoee.
Cathy (K1-chik) was pretty mad, uh, I mean Glad to finally see us arrive. We decided to set shuttle before boating so we'll have everything waiting for us at the takeout.
I explained to the girls that I needed to get Blown before we can boat. And we'll probably want to retreat to a shady spot in the parking lot before the Blowing begins. We relocated to a secluded spot in the parking lot and I whipped out the equipment that would be needed for the Blow Job. (12 volt blower, double action pump and , of course Ms. Piggy, the raft.)
A sweaty half hour later I'd had all the Blowing I could handle. Ms. Piggy was Hard as a Rock and ready to go. We dropped her in the pond above the dam for a little pre-put-in paddle practice. Along about this time is when I started to notice that the Wenches are a little apprehensive about this rafting adventure.
Further discussion revealed that neither of them had had much experience with Grumpy's. They'd both heard all the horror stories about the carnage that awaits the unsuccessful attempts at flossing Grumpy's teeth. I did my best to be reassuring, but having both paddled with me (kayaking) before, they both knew that I was a better swimmer than paddler. My revelation of my buddy, Bob's thrashing BeatDown at Grumpy's on Labor Day a couple of years ago probably didn't help to instill much confidence.
The Wenches didn't take long to succumb to my control and soon were responding to my commands like good Wenches should. We paddled over to the top of the ramp and pull Ms. Piggy out and stowed her in a shady spot with Denise to stand guard while Kathy and I went to set shuttle.
It's amazing how much quicker you can hitch a ride when you're standing beside the road with a buxom blonde lady at your side. Kathy and I had no sooner walked out to the exit driveway, at the takeout, when All Three of the first three vehicles to pass, stopped to offer us a ride.
We reunited with Denise at the put-in and started to carry Ms. Piggy down the ramp. Have you ever tried to hump a raft down the ramp with a couple of Girls? Man, if that elderly tourist couple from Florida hadn't offered to help, we'd have never gotten Ms. Piggy in the water. I'm still real sorry about accidentally kicking over the old lady's Oxygen Tank.
Once we got the boat in the water, the Wenches were really looking nervous. There was Grumpy, GROWLIN' right in front of us, and I think they had less than total faith in my assurances that with three "no class" paddlers we'd easily make the crucial 'slot move' that leads to a successful ferry away from Grumpy's hole.
The Wenches jumped into Ms. Piggy and got all tucked in tight as I pushed the boat toward the current. We hit the current with a good upstream ferry angle and easily coasted into the lower slot. One, Two, Three strokes and we were bouncing our way through those Tasty Waves, dodging the holes as we went.
Man, was I, um, I mean, were THEY relieved. No shameful sliding the boat down the pipe slide at the lower put-in for This Crew! The Wenches even grabbed their unfamiliar one bladed paddles correctly by the T-grip. And these Wenches were kayakers!
With our confidence bolstered by our successful run through Grumpy's, we proceeded, with little difficulty, down through the Rock Garden toward Broken Nose.
We set up good for Broken Nose. Paddling hard we swooped around the curving tongue and Boofed off the very edge of the upper ledge and over the first drop. Making a hard left turn, we caught a fine line down the lower drops, skirting by the center boulder on the left side. Being so light, with such powerful paddlers, we hit the final hole with so much momentum that we barely slowed down.
This R-2 / R-3 Shit is the fuckin' BOMB !!!
Heading into Double Suck I thought I had waited too late to make the right to left ferry move above the drop. The Raft Wenches suprised me, however, and with a quick upstream ferry we whipped Ms. Piggy around to the right just in time . . . BOOM ! . . .WHOOSH ! . . . YEE HAW !! Perfect shot.
A quick spin for a Deja View back upstream. I'm not sure whether it looks worse from above, as you go over the lip, or from below. It is definitley worthy of it's name.
Just above Double Trouble, I threw MFD (Mega Foamie Dude) out behind us. Double Trouble wasn't our prettiest run of the day. We did hit all three waves, but not with the perfect angle to achieve maximum height. On the bright side, none of us fell out right in front of the camera folks.
We did a little ferry work as we coasted downstream, and Denise was able to snag MFD. He wanted to eddy out for a Safety Break, but we managed to talk him out of it.
Before long we were coasting through the dolldrums. What A Beautiful Day !
Goforth creek was somewhat crowded with outfitter rafts, so we cruised right on by and paddled on down toward Table Saw.
We had a good entry line at Table Saw, but we did a couple of short typewriter sidesurfs on the upper diagonals (This Thing Is LIGHT!) and spun out at the bottom. We managed to make the last eddy on the left below Table Saw. Whew! Well nobody fell out and we didn't hit anything solid . . . Perfect Run!
We took a break below Table Saw and watched some hard boaters and several outfitter trips come through.
Observing the passing boats making their Table Saw runs, we noticed one outfitter boat coming down the rapid with all seven passengers sitting on their butts in the floor with their paddles held vertically. They drifted toward us after a really sloppy run and Denise said, "Oh, they're all kids . . . They're all RETARDED KIDS, Can't you see?"
Well, Kathy and I gave them a closer look as they passed by . . . "Denise, they're not RETARDED, they're only ASIAN KIDS!" We gave Denise a huge load of shit about her being a Politidally Incorrect Racist Bitch, and told her that we were gonna have to get her some glasses . . . and maybe a muzzle.
When we finally decide to leave our berth below Table Saw, we discover that we are stuck in our eddy landing spot. Push this way, Paddle that way, Scoot, Jerk, Bounce up and down. We aren't going anywhere. "Somebody's Fat Ass is sitting on a Rock," I think to myself. I hop across the thwarts to the opposite end of the boat. We'll try to work our way free from this end. . . . "What tha". There's a big assed boulder resting up under the bow. I guess with the Wenches sitting back on the second thwart and my big ass in the stern, the upraised bow wasn't noticeable. With a little pushing, prying and jumpin' around, we finally slid her free.
I had been telling the Wenches to watch how the outfitters boats ran Diamond Splitter. Unfortunately, a good many of them were running it down the LEFT side. I can't stand to run the chicken route when there's a perfectly doable line that Kicks Ass!
We paddled out of our eddy with an upstream ferry angle and, once again, I had to command the Wenches to quit paddling before we ran into the rock we were trying to skirt on the downstream side. We made the slot move to the right, but dropped in with too much left to right momentum. So we flushed out to the right side and missed the best part of the ride below.
We had some good rides on the fun stuff below Diamond Splitter. I was informed by the Wenches that they weren't interested in any surfing or doing 'helocoptor spins' through some of the more straightforward rapids. Nor were they interested in any 'mystery moves' or 'side stalls' at Cat's Pajamas. So we ran everything pretty normal. :-( No goofy shit!
Below Cat's, we eddied out on river right and while watching the outfitter guides play tricks on their charges, I explained to the Wenches what 'Cleaning the Plate' was all about. This is a raft guide codeword for positioning the boat to result in a sidestall, dumptruck, or other raft playboat move that would dump All of the customers into the drink, while the guide manages to land the boat back upright with him/her still in it.
Once we had seen two or three plates cleaned, we headed on down to Hell's Hole and the PowerHouse.
Again, I sensed tension from the Wenches. They explained that, being low riding kayakers, their approach to Hell's Hole was sneaking the rapid on the left, then maybe playing in the hole from Below. One more time, I had to explain that, unlike in a kayak, in a raft, you don't sneak or skirt AnyThing that can be run head on.
I must say, that in over 25 years of running the Ocoee, I've never had a better hit there than I did that Sunday. Our line took us over the wave at such an angle that the uninitiated would be certain that the raft wasn't long enough to ride over That Wave without doing a bow over stern flip. We hit the hole dead center, popped to the top, and did a little one second side surf on the crest that made our neck hair stand up. WEEEE HAAAAH!
A couple of backstrokes and we pivoted off the right lip of Butt Wiper and bounced through the tailwaves of PowerHouse.
The Raft Wenches were elated. What a Great Run. We chattered all the way to the lower takeout.
"Dinner and Day Two" . . . to be continued . . .
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