Awhile back I posted about the necessity of making your own entertainment living here in rural Missouri. Our bowling adventures are more of a winter sport. In the summer, we like water sports. And they also become an adventure.
Two years ago, I was home for several days in the summer and my brother and his friends asked me to go floating. I. Love. Float Trips. Apparently those are somewhat of a country thing, too. Since I heart canoeing down the river so much, I happily obliged.
We loaded up in the truck and there was no canoe. We had tractor tire inner tubes. I hadn't used a tractor tire inner tube since my childhood days at the lake (which were really old coal strip pits) and one Grotewiel float trip that landed me 8 miles down river and caused me to vow never to camp in a tent again.
So, I agreed to give it a try anyway. We floated a small river near our house. It was a blast. Tons of wildlife, lots of fun twists and turns. Sun, water, drinks, music, laughter. It was a great time. We ended up tube floating at least twice a week the whole summer. Each time we floated we got a little more adventurous. After an extremely competitive game of race-up-the-steep-mudslide-to-grab-the-beer-can-first, I came back to Kansas City with legs that were shredded from all the slips and tumbles down the mud chute. It was rough, but it was such a blast.
Last summer was very similar.
This summer, Cliff and I decided to upgrade. We went and bought a brand new canoe!
(I had to imbed that from instagram because my brand new phone was ruined just before we went to Chicago...more on that later.)
So, the first three days we owned it, we were out on different lakes every day. We would paddle around, soak up the sun, fish, and then when I got tired of fishing, Cliff would continue to fish and I would lay back, relax, and read a book. It was so perfect.
By that weekend, we had planned our first float trip. Until this point, we had floated the East Fork and Chariton Rivers around here, but Cliff had aspirations to float the Grand River. Since it was on his bucket list, and he knows much more about anything outdoorsy than I do, and I love floating, I just agreed and packed my dry bag and the cooler the day of the float without any questions. We stopped to pick up my brother on the way, and just out of curiosity, pulled out a Missouri map. Here's what we saw:
So, we planned to put in at point A (Bosworth) and float to point B (Brunswick). Both spots had boat ramps, so it looked like a piece of cake. We were so amped up and energized that we all agreed that if we got to Brunswick too quickly, we would go on and float to the Missouri (the big river in the bottom right corner of the map) and take out further down in a small town called Glasgow.
Cliff set a minnow trap at the Bosworth Access, we all jumped in the canoe and shoved off. The sun was shining, the water was beautiful, we were seeing tons of wildlife, I was smiling.
Then, it started to feel like we had floated at least ten miles with no end in sight.
Then, I felt a drop of rain, the sun went behind a big cloud and the wind started blowing.
At this point, Jacob and Cliff had almost emptied the cooler, Jacob was passed out with his head in the bottom of the canoe and his feet in the air, and I was getting a little nervous.
The sky opened up and it poured rain, the temperature dropped, the wind came in huge gusts, and I was no longer smiling. I was scared to death. We'd never floated this river, Jacob nor Cliff can swim very well and I wasn't sure I could save both of them, and I kept having visions of our shiny, new canoe sinking to the bottom of the channel.
Then I started crying and put on my life vest.
In about ten minutes the storm was over, but I was pretty much done with the trip. Little did I know, we had about four more hours of floating until we reached our destination.
Before we finally made it to Brunswick, Jacob had come to, eaten an entire bag of pretzels alone, tipped the canoe and taken on water doing a "beer stunt", not to mention we thought we had been sucked back in time to the 1920s (long story), and had a long discussion about whether or not we were even on the correct river.
After eight hours of solid floating, we finally saw the boat ramp. I don't know how far we actually floated, but we're guessing it was at least fifteen miles. Then Jacob and Cliff ridiculed me for days about saving myself by putting on a life vest and having no concern for them. I wasn't sure I ever wanted to see Jacob or Cliff or a canoe or water again.
So, what do I do? Two weeks later I plan a Grotewiel Cousins Float Trip for three days and fifteen people in South Missouri. I'll never learn.
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