FLOTILLA OF FUN

Adam Spencer, The Triplicate

Record turnout paddles for 1st or just for kicks

At the Gasquet Raft Races, there are those who float for first and those who float for fun.

Then there are those who shoot for first, lose competitive spirit and succumb to enjoying the crystal clear waters of the Smith River and the beautiful sights of Gasquet.

My brother and I, Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox for race purposes, fell into this last category, but unfortunately didn't realize it until late in the race, wasting a gorgeous river run on an overzealous attempt at glory.

"It's fun to float that river, but if you're trying to win, it's hard work," said Doug Marvin, winner of the 36-and-older-kayak group, while he feasted on a much-deserved plate of deep-pit barbecue cooking. "I was worn out."

The 43rd annual race attracted 200 participants, breaking the record

of 174 rafters set last year.

For the fun-floaters, the prizes to strive for were the best

decorated/

most unusual raft and the best costume.

A group of cavemen from Southern Oregon brought a stuffed buffalo on

their craft.

I floated past rafters dressed as a watermelon and honeydew with the

head of Waldorf, the theater heckler from The Muppet Show, affixed to

the bow.

One rafter came equipped with a two-foot tall blue wig, resembling a

Dr. Seuss character.

"Are you Thing One or Thing Two?" I asked.

"I'm just a thing. Don't put a number on me, man," he replied.

A lively bride and groom with the man in the dress and the woman

wearing pants won the best costume, while the pharoah raft claimed best

decorated/ most unusual raft.

Viking rafts have won the best raft prize the past two years, but

Viking Ron Gastineau was happy to pass the crown and see other people

warming up to the weirder side of the event.

This year the Viking raft had a custom-built wooden water cannon and

bags full of rubber Viking duckies used as projectiles, each one labeled

with "Viking Raft 2012" so no one could mistake the source.

"Band geeks," muttered a young kayaker as he passed the viking

troupe.

My brother and I raced in the most heated category: the kayakers,

ages 12 to 35.

We, the mythical logger and his blue ox, started strong off the gun

holding second place with my trusty steer in the front power- seat

paddling with gusto. We were quickly drenched head-to-toe from

defensive paddleandndash;splashes viscously delivered by the first place kayak

we were tailing.

Choosing the right line through a riffle gave us a good lead ahead of

the splashers, that is until we perched ourselves on some rocks through

another riffle. We hopped out of the kayak to tow the boat to deeper

water ahead when the splashers came from behind yelling:

"You're cheating! Cheating! Disqualified!" they yelled.

We hopped back in the boat to avoid the dreaded DQ, and futilely

attempted to push off the rocks while in the boat, until occupants of

another raft told us we had been duped. It wasn't against the rules to

hop out, but it was too late; our competitors were barely visible

downstream.

We didn't give up at that moment, but it was a slippery slope. My

blue-ox brother was bleeding all over the boat from a finger cut he got

from grazing a rock while paddling. We shouted at each other

incessantly, each knowing better than the other how to maneuver the

kayak.

"You can't go rafting if you don't listen to the captain!" I yelled

at him in brotherly fashion.

With blood on the boat, frustration in the air and first-place far

out of reach, we agreed that the remaining time would be much better

spent simply enjoying the scene.

We saw the splashers at the finish line, who ultimately flipped their

kayak and had to settle for second.

I learned from my first race. I'm more of a fun-floater and will

probably take my time next year.

I also learned that costume commitment just isn't worth wearing blue

jeans in the river.

Reach Adam Spencer at aspencer@triplicate.com .

14030683
The Del Norte Triplicate
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