Tripping with those you don't well know

[Guest]

That's almost too much of a tease. You don't have to tell us Barry's real name, just his online name will do.

Alan, “Barry” passed away some years ago. Let him RIP, he had enough problems on earth.

The last time I heard of Barry, after some absence from the paddling scene, I believe he decided to try rowing a raft down the whitewater release at Jamaica State Park. Despite have zero previous experience rowing a raft. There were issues.

At one point Barry became frustrated by an inner-tuber in his way, and deliberately whacked the kid in the head with his oar. There were responsible paddlers around who witnessed the completely unnecessary oar attack. It did not sit well with them, and they were vocal about it.

That was the end of Barry’s persona as an inter-net boater par excellence.

 

[ppine]

The first thing I tell people is "canoeing is a team sport." It helps a lot especially the newbies to get them thinking in terms of the group. It is safer to stay together. There are always communal tasks. We take turns making dinner. One guy is the fire expert. People that don't figure out the group mentality do not get invited again.

It is amazing to me, that as I face 70, large groups have no appeal. A group of 4 provides some safety, but even that can seem overwhelming.
It is great to hear the vast of experiences of this group.

The one other thing I would mention is equipment. I have been supplying equipment for people for 40 years. There is some wear and tear and expense in involved. Now I ask people to buy a throw rope, or some other equipment before a trip. I have had people pay me for wear and tear on my boats, especially on rocky rivers.

 

[Glenn MacGrady]

I've never paddled with Jim or Barry. Nor have I ever had a real problem with anyone that I recall.

In my 20 years as a whitewater paddler I was always with groups. In fact, most of the paddlers were from clubs that had rating systems, so that paddling skills would be relatively well matched to river difficulty. Almost always, everyone on a trip, even if they did not personally know one another, was either a rated paddler or was vouched for by someone we knew.

In my eight years as a seakayer, I paddled both alone and with groups. There were no rating systems but I never experienced any problem paddlers, except for one guy who would paddle with his PFD unzipped in the Bay of Fundy. He was immediately peer pressured.

As a flat water open canoeist in CanAm and outrigger canoes I've almost always tripped alone. The few remaining clubs on the East coast that I know are mostly all rec kayaks and SOTs, some of which are reluctant to allow canoes on their trips, mostly because they xenophobically think of canoes as anachronistic and canoeists as plesiosaurs.

Off the water, in camp, I've had a few minor problems with people and dogs. When I was a drinker in the 70's and 80's, I'd sometimes avoid the non-drinkers out of sense of courtesy or embarrassment. Having been a teetotaler since then, I now avoid some of the drinkers some of the time. It's not a big problem. I often enjoy sitting in my chair or tent and reading or engaging in omphaloskepsis rather than chewing the rag.

I also learned early on that I disliked community cooking, mainly because I don't cook and am usually on a special diet. So, I usually make it clear from the beginning of any trip that I am fully self-sufficient in my canoe and that I will not participate in group cooking or cleanup. Unless I'm the trip leader, I'll sometimes reserve the right up front to leave the group with notice at any time. I've only had to do that once or twice, because the group pace did not suit me.

Nothing I've said above applies to family trips when my kids were growing up. Those were all learning experiences that had all sorts of goofs, frustrations and satisfactions.

 

[PaddlingPitt]

New word for me, Glenn. Had to look it up. Always nice to learn something. Thanks!

 

[Robin]

When my boys where 9 or 10 I went with a couple of different dads/son up to the Adirondacks and they went well. One guy, who I didn't know all that well was great up until one afternoon he spilled his guts about his failing marriage as we waited for the boys to get back from some fishing. I knew his wife a little better than him and gosh that was awkward.

I did a few trips with a guy who had a Canoe related quarterly, Mike Hurley of Hurley's Journal. He needed to set up the campfire tent a certain way to make interesting pictures, he carried too much gear and cooked big meals which I had to supply the firewood and do the dishes. Man, I grew to hate those reflector ovens and all the work they created. Still, he was a good guy and he had a nice boy so I kept coming back for a few trips.

I went to LaVerendrye twice and Quetico once with a group I met over the internet. They where great guys, loved to fish and we got along well Again, the big meals and firewood/dishwashing detail was a turn off, but I knew that going in and it worked out well.

I went up to Lows Lake in the Adirondacks a few years ago with folks from this site I didn't know and I think we had a good time. Actually, I know it was a good time. We did a day trip that I really enjoyed and had a lot of fun around the campfire.

I met Mike's "Barry" one time, once was enough. RIP Barry

 

[Guest]

I remember reading Mike's story before, I think maybe on Myccr, I laughed then too, because it really hit home, me and my buddies being the "rough boys", lol.

Mem, I found a copy of that on the old rec.boats.paddle archives. The absurdity of that episode still makes me laugh, and the denouement and aftermath were equally memorable. And even more comical.

I posted a group trip report, but didn’t mention anything about Barry; there wasn’t much nice to say, and he really wasn’t around that long. I don’t mean to besmirch the dead, but Barry’s version of what transpired was quite, uh, different.

Barry posted a long trip report of his subsequent travels on the DelMarVa. A long fantasy trip report. He visited two different local State Parks and car camped. Let’s just say I know both parks very well, stay in each a couple times a year and have for decades, know the ranger staff and etc. From Barry’s continuing adventures:

He needed to stop first and buy pots, pans, stove and fuel. Say what!

Barry didn’t actually have to suffer the indignity of tent camping. At the first Park, Milburn Landing, a sexy Ranger named, I kid you not, “Mary Christmas” (must be new there) gave him a waterfront cabin to stay in. Gave him, for free. We have had to reserve them at least 6 months in advance, and been skunked trying even then.

Barry day paddled from Milburn to Snow Hill and back with these amazing people he met, who build and paddled custom Biadarkas, and appreciated paddling at Barry’s speed. He maybe shoulda looked at the map mileage; Milburn Landing to Snow Hill and back is 16 miles. That’s no three hour cruise, even if you time the tides just right. At Barry-speed that would take a day and a half.

At the second park, Trap Pond, he stayed in a waterfront yurt and explored the swamp. He didn’t say if the yurt was free or the Ranger sexy. At least he had already bought pots and pans and stove.

The really comical part was that Barry absolutely raked me over the coals, in every way imaginable, and there was considerable imagination involved. I was completely to blame. I was a terrible trip leader. I didn’t designate a probe and sweep. He could have died. Never leave a man behind! (BTW, we did paddle back to look for him after making camp, he was long gone).

He “brought the wrong boat”. Sometimes Barry inadvertently spoke the truth out loud; at one point complaining “Why are your boats so much better than mine?” Never said they were, never thought they were; half the guys were paddling beater loaners of mine, bow backwards soloing old Explorers and the like. One guy was solo paddling a Sawyer Champion. From the stern bucket, not much fun into a headwind.

Barry kept contradicting his own story. He said he was “going slow, taking his time enjoying such a unique area” but he “paddles stuff like that all the time back home and didn’t need to come down here for it”. He was “paddling as hard as he could just to survive”. The half mile, mostly sheltered trip back to the landing was a noteworthy feat of life threatening Skackleton-esque solo endurance. It went on and on.

We had all the food, he could have starved (I kid you not). No wait, that looked bad, he did have food. He “couldn’t manage to paddle around the peninsula”, the “wind and wave and current blew him backwards, but if we come up north he’ll show us how to line boats”.

I loved his offer of lining lessons; apparently wading the canoe is an unknown technique up north; the sand bar peninsula where he quit is literally inches deep. He could have walked the canoe most of the way in to camp without so much as getting his knees wet.

It was “foolishly dangerous, no one should paddle in wind like that”. He “could have drowned” and - he memorably wrote this - “My wife would have sued you and the club you were guiding for”. My bad; I should have posted caution signs along the 18” deep bay, like the ideogram infant-drowning warnings on 5 gallon buckets.

He “never even got out of his boat”. O wait, he “got out of his boat to videotape us paddling away abandoning him, only to find himself standing in a pile of pony crap”.

That bit was my favorite. “Standing in a pile of pony crap” says all you ever need to know about Barry. In my mind’s eye I can still see him, standing sadly forlorn and abandoned, atop a pile of pony crap.

It was a singular one-star-of-the-show clusterfuck. Funny thing is, while I remember me and the rough boys having a fine time, base camp paddling, playing all-terrain bocci, eating great food and drinking to some excess around the campfire at night, those memories all blend into other Gents trips. What stands out in memory is Barry, so I guess I at least owe him thanks for the memories.

 

[Glenn MacGrady]

Robin's post does remind me of one potential issue: fishing.

In my experience, it's better for fishers to trip with fishers, and non-fishers with non-fishers, unless everyone can amicably agree on some "when-and-where-do-we-stop" rules. Fishers often want to stop all of a sudden here, or troll over there, or spend 10 minutes casting hither and thither -- which can frustrate and annoy a non-fisher paddling companion, who wants to move on.

In a tandem canoe it can even be worse. I've seen canoe jilted wives exercise the patience of Job while tandem hubby flirts with fishes.

 

[alsg]

That bit was my favorite. “Standing in a pile of pony crap” says all you ever need to know about Barry. In my mind’s eye I can still see him, standing sadly forlorn and abandoned, atop a pile of pony crap.

It was a singular one-star-of-the-show clusterfuck. Funny thing is, while I remember me and the rough boys having a fine time, base camp paddling, playing all-terrain bocci, eating great food and drinking to some excess around the campfire at night, those memories all blend into other Gents trips. What stands out in memory is Barry, so I guess I at least owe him thanks for the memories.

Good gravy it was Assateague and I am a Barry too!

 

[sweeper]

I started my canoe tripping paddling the Allagash. There was a core of Me, my son, and my Grandson with a yearly rotating cast of friends. We took just about anyone who had picked up a paddle at some point in their life or at least thought about it. The Allagash is a very forgiving river.
We only had one Problem Person in those years in a friend I had day paddled with a couple of times.
We put in at Bissonet Bridge and I thought I'd have a divorce by the time we got down to Umsaskus Lake. Things quieted down by the time we got to Long Lake Dam, BUT he had gone into Full Rudder Mode with his Olive Oil build wife providing all the forward momentum and they lagged far behind the rest of the group.
The second night I called him off his Throne for which he used to dispensed his wisdom to help me gather some more wood. Once out of earshot of the camp I lit into him about how he was going to conduct himself on the next 3 days of the trip. I was completely surprised by his attitude in the woods, and towards others in the group.

 

[Steve in Idaho]

Now there's an adjective I will never forget. "Shackletonesque". Thanks, Mike!

I have nothing to add to this. Just enjoying the read. I guess it's unfortunate that my level of exposure has kept my Jim's and Barry's limited to day trips. And those stories are rather mundane.

 

[JoelBeckwith]

I have found tripping to be an excellent opposite sex relationship test. I've had two long trips end relationships and one that created a bond that has lasted 20 years.

The first trip my fiance insisted on coming on a multi week trip North of the Churchill in Saskatchewan. My closest childhood friend and I had dreamed of this trip for years and were finally able to pull it off. As the trip approached my fiance decided she was coming and my best friend was not. I should have taken this as a warning not a challenge. The three of us went on this incredible adventure and she was angry the whole time. To this day when I look at photos from that trip she is always giving my friend a dirty look. Our relationship did not survive the trip.

The second was a multi week trip to Woodland Caribou with a women I had been seeing and was very taken with. As the trip approached she insisted on bringing a sea kayak. A tandem canoe was out of the question. I tried in vain to convince her a solo canoe would be so much easier with the many small lakes with portages between each, (105 portages). So I made a removable portage yoke for her 60 lbs Prijon Esky and explained it would be a good idea to practice picking it up and walking around with the beast. She also had me put a rudder on it before the trip which I also advised playing with before the trip. She did neither.

At the putin she could not figure out the rudder. In her defence we drove from Maryland to Red Lake without stopping and she was pretty frazzled. Then we got to the first portage. Well she could not pick the sea kayak up and when I tried to put it on her shoulders it was a disaster. I then said take my 30lbs canoe. She could not pick that up either so I put it on her shoulders and off she went. As I picked up the kayak she disappeared over the rock fin that was the trail and a second later I there was a loud noise that could only be my kevlar canoe tumbling down a steep rock face. Fearing she had fallen I raced ahead to see her standing on the trail looking down at my canoe standing strait up in a quagmire 30 feet below. You get the idea. I carried both boats on the next 104 portages. By the way, having a sea kayak on you head sucks. You can't see anything and often I would end up sideways in the trail. There were other things like me being a vegetarian and her being a carnivore so I packed different foods for the 2 of us. She had not been interested in helping me pack for the trip and decided to eat all the vegetarian food first. When i confronted her by saying hey thats my food, well that didn't go over well. I literally ran out of food.

Whats funny is I still was very enamored with her at the end of the trip but she was done with me.

The happy ending part. A few years after the Woodland Caribou trip I met this amazing women at the Greater Baltimore Canoe Club Roll sessions. I was completely blown away by her. She came to my shop to buy a boat while I had charts spread out all over the counter. She asked me what I was doing so I explained I was planning a 2 week trip along the Pukaskwa Coast of Superior and would you like to come. To my great surprise she said yes. We've been together for 20 years this July and have been wandering wilderness together ever since.

 

[JoelBeckwith]

Sorry Chip I kind of went off subject.

 

[Glenn MacGrady]

I enjoyed your stories, Joel. Exotic, alien women. Greenhorn women. Kayaks.

I was reminded of two famous quotes, one from Shakespeare and one from Eve:

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves

Think with your brain, Adam, not with that thing behind the fig leaf

 

[Guest]

My most unpleasant experience was when I took a novice paddler on a group paddle to an ADK wilderness lake. It was rough water, and he just took off paddling like mad for the middle of the lake. Despite our shouting, he wouldn't stop and we couldn't catch him. He was in a small canoe, heavily and unevenly loaded.--never again.

 

[ppine]

I met a really nice girl in 1998. I asked her on a canoe trip after a couple of months. We came down the upper Missouri R in Montana from Ft Benton to Kipp Bridge, a little over 150 miles in the 1953 Old Town. We have been together ever since.

 

[Black_Fly]

There are certain people I will NOT do more than a day trip with, out of self-preservation mostly. I learned the hard way that besides my wife, no one I know is suited to expedition canoeing, and sometimes I wonder about her. We joined a club once, but it was full of day trip dreamers, who rarely go paddling at all. There were a couple older woman kayak paddlers who went regularly in groups to bird watch. Frankly, my dog is better company. He's always ready to go, never complains. Doesn't mind getting wet. Easy to talk to.

 

[Guest]

In my experience, it's better for fishers to trip with fishers, and non-fishers with non-fishers, unless everyone can amicably agree on some "when-and-where-do-we-stop" rules. Fishers often want to stop all of a sudden here, or troll over there, or spend 10 minutes casting hither and thither -- which can frustrate and annoy a non-fisher paddling companion, who wants to move on.

I thought about Glenn’s fishing observation when he posted it, and the issues he mentions are spot on.

We have fishermen, or had wanna be fishermen, on many group trips. Generally, on lake trips, in a mixed fishing/not fishing group, we make camp first and then the anglers take back to the water. On a mixed downriver trip the fisherfolk usually don’t dawdle the group by insisting on stopping to cast. If they do, and I trust their boating skills, they are on their own.

One small group trip which I luckily avoided went to heck for one paddler’s insistence on stopping frequently to fish. On a section of the South River in NC that is notoriously strainer occluded at the bottom half; think massive fallen cypress with towering logjams piles on the upstream side, dragging canoes through the swamp muck and cypress knees along the banks. Ankle deep in mud, trying to drag portage through closely spaced cypress knees, is no fun. Even in daylight.

Let’s just say they arrived at the take out worse for wear well after dark, having traversed strainer after strainer by flashlight. They were so late that friends, who had begun discussing SAR, eventually drove down to illuminate the take out and await their arrival. No one was happy about it. And they didn’t even catch any fish.

Two friends who routinely came on Gentleman’s Trip were enthusiastic if novice fishermen. Enthusiastic, novice, gullible fishermen.

At one Gent’s camp on the Potomac they were off afoot getting shunked and came back to camp to find one of the guys preparing a whole Pacific Salmon he had brought along in a cooler as his group meal offering. A huge salmon. Their eyes got wide when they saw it and he immediately regaled them with tales of the “deep pool, just below the rapids a mile or two downstream” were he caught it. Salmon, in the upper Potomac.

They were gone for hours.

Same two luckless guys, on an Assateague bayside trip, came back from a long fruitless morning of wasted effort. When they landed at camp, b*tching about their lack of success, a couple of the gents were nearby and began an impromptu “conversation” with each other. Within earshot.

“I’ve never seen that many big fish in one place in my life”
“Yeah, those were huge. I guess that got trapped back there when the tide went out”
“dang, there sure were a lot of them”

They took the bait, and wanted to know more. A map was produced. The two gents who had “seen” the pool of trapped giant fish, studying map in hand, convincingly debated the exact location of that bountiful spot.

“I think we went up this channel, and then we dragged the canoes through the shallows to over here”
“Are you sure? I thought we went up this channel, dragged over to here, and then up this way”
“Maybe, I’m not sure. They’ll probably only be trapped there ‘til the tide comes back in”

Hook, line and sinker. They didn’t even wait to make lunch before heading back out. There are hundreds of confusing bifurcated channels on the bayside, and we didn’t see them again until dark. At least we saved them some dinner leftovers.

Those guys were so much fun. “Showing” me how to surf cast. “You go like this, and fling the bait out past the breakers”. With 30 feet on old line on the borrowed surf reel. Well, they flung the bait out a long ways, but the line was no longer attached to the reel.

Demonstrating casting from the bank with a fancy new spinner and carbon rod. The very first cast the reel separated from the rod and kerplunked into the river, taking a couple rod sections with it.

For all their other foibles those guys were guaranteed good for a laugh.

 

[ppine]

I had no idea that experienced paddlers feel so similar to the way I feel about taking people on overnight canoe trips.

 

[Black_Fly]

I don't know, Mike, that sounds a little mean to me.