Tuesday, August 23, 2005

First voyage of [Insert Name Here]: Part 3

We could hear sounds of traffic again.

The maiden voyage of [The Gray Angel?] was coming to an end. Clark and I stopped talking and stopped paddling as we rounded the last bend and the Riley-Fuzzel bridge came into view. Drifting, we watched people zoom by in their cars.

We landed under the bridge and got out to stretch our legs. With an easy heave we pulled [Rugaru?] up onto the bank, then carried her up the hill to the road's shoulder. People gave us big smiles and waves as they whizzed by. I guess the sight of two muddy, grinning guys carrying a canoe along the side of a road in Texas amuses people. I gave Misseswether a call to come pick us up then stood by the canoe returning people's waves while Clark poked around an interesting rock pile.

"You know, I bet we could hitch a ride home.", I said to Clark. He was a bit doubtful, but right after saying so a car stopped and a young guy asked if we needed help. We explained that we'd just finished paddling down Spring Creek from I-45 and we were now waiting for our ride. He thought that was pretty neat. We chatted a bit more then he took off with a wave. A moment later Misseswether pulled up, camera in hand.


She took a picture, then suddenly took off running for her Honda. I was confused, then saw Clark swat at something on his leg.

Oh, mosquitoes.

Being an adventurer means dealing with harsh weather, snakes, weird food, venomous creatures, and mosquitoes. For some strange (God blessed!) reason mosquitoes rarely come after me though. Misseswether is just the opposite. In the two minutes she spent taking our picture she suffered 17 bites! While standing beside the road for half an hour Clark picked up four bites and I was bit zero times. On the other hand, I do seem to end up impaled on branches, thorns, and the occassional peice of rebar fairly often. Sometimes being an adventurer means being on first-name basis with the nurse in charge of tetanus shots.

It was time to go home. We were muddy and smelled of river and sweat. The canoe was covered in clumps of sand from being hauled up the hill to the roadside. We were grinning like idiots and babbling to Misseswether and Miniwether about all that we had saw: the fish, the water, the rapids, birds, turtles... Miniwether laughed and mimicked our wild hand motions, completely forgetting how we had sailed off without her.

Yeah, I was sad, too. I know, it's almost trite. But post-partum adventure depression always creeps in after a trip. It's not easy to balance adventure with being a husband, a dad, a gainfully employed scientist. I took a employment skills test years ago in high school, it recommended I become a wagon-train master (it was a small school in the middle of nowhere, some of it's resources may have been a bit out of date). I always thought I wanted to be a scientist, but what I've figured out is I want to be an explorer. I want to go see what's around the bend, over the mountian, across the desert and then tell people about it. This leads to some amount of frustration in this day and age. That is why I wander the borderlands, seeking really, well, just to seek. I guess that's just my fate.


Introducing, Seeker's Fate

Adventure! Excitement! Exploration!

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