Bitch Monkey

There I was. In the midst of it. Cliffs to my left. Waterfall to my right. It was beautiful outside. It was seventy degrees, the wind was blowing seventy miles per hour, and the sunlight filled the small canyon in a way that felt like velvet. The leafless trees blew in the distance. Their scraggly branches danced with the effervescent blue sky. I folded the camera down. The battery was dead.

I took two strokes forward and began to pick up speed as I approached the lip of the first slide. My boat hurtled forward and I stared into the gaping jaws of the first hole. I feathered my left blade a bit and pulled my self atop the right curler and punched through. Sometimes the first drop goes smoothly. Sometimes. There are other times when it punches you in the face and typewriters you into the left wall, almost as if the river was speaking up a bit... 'Don't get too brave their boy'.

I followed the current through the canyon, rocketing toward drop number two. I angled left, started on the right, two three strokes, and bam! Contact. It hit me in the gut and hurled me right. I dipped a blade and paddled forward. I stroked around the log on the right wall, lined up behind and prepared to drop into the third slide.

Things were different. The drop was no longer the same. A log submerged against the river left wall created a large hump in the downstream flow. It changed the angle of the main flow and pushed it further right. Normally one lines up on the right and fires it up right of center with a hint of left angle. When run successfully, one would easily careen past the small crack dropping from the third slide over a fifteen foot waterfall into the Back Canyon.

I never tried the Back Canyon. The main lines were so much fun, and it always looked a bit too manky. Most folks stay to the left and leave the Back Canyon alone. Fewer still run the crack over the waterfall that connects the two canyons in a rather heinous looking spray of jagged rocks and water mixing and swirling through the air in a way that makes you a little scared just to look at it.

Things were different. I lined up on the right with a larger degree of left facing angle and began to power my way down the slide with the intent to move across the face of the breaking wave into the safety of the slack water on river left. Almost all of the main flow was now going directly over 'Bitch Monkey'. I ran the drop successfully twice the day before and once the day before that. It seemed as straight forward as the old line, it simply had a new twist.

I went under the bridge and crashed through the wave. I felt like had a great angle. I blinked. There was water in my eyes. I opened them. I was not where I was supposed to be. I tried to correct. It was too late. 'Bitch Monkey' had me. It was pulling me backwards like a vacuum. There was no escape. I took a big lefty backward stroke and hoped for the best. I blanked. I was upside down under water. I felt no impact. I felt no rocks. I held my paddle, reached out and rolled up. I opened my eyes. I had never been here before. It was kind of nice. I was up against a big wall. I took a sweep stroke and faced down stream. My boat felt different. I was not sure what it was. I paddled into the eddy above the last slide. The whole moment was a bit surreal, but incredibly clear. I let out a scream of joy. I popped my skirt and looked down to notice the bolt that connect the back band to the ratchet split the plastic. It must have happened on impact. I decided I didn't feel any impact because all of the shock was absorbed by the screw. Crazy.

I pushed my feet forward to steady myself in the boat and hurled down the last slide. My day on the water was done. I walked back to the car to meet up with Kerry.

I always wanted to run 'Bitch Monkey'.