F**king people...

F**king hoodlums: a few years ago I came home after midnight and found one digging around in my house mate's rig. Got outta the van and and chased the dude about four blocks. Went Clint Eastwood on his ass. Damn near broke bones. Twisted limbs. "What's it gonna be punk? You goin to the hospital, or you goin to jail?" Stopped short of breaking his nose and stopped short of calling the po po because by then my streak of vigilante justice probably woulda just got me in worse trouble than this thief. So finally I let him up. Took his shoes. He had to walk home to wherever in his socks. Temps were in the middle 30's and by then whatever drug he was on was probably worn off. I know, it was dumb on my part, but I had had sh*t stolen not long before and just went apesh*t.

Yeah, the rope at the Truss put in is always slithering away too.
And I don't know whats w/ people who gotta park in front of the gate, yet when you walk over to them on fu*kin egg shells and ever so politely explain that maybe they could at least tuck in off to the side, they gots ta git all uppitty about the sitiation.

F**king kayakers: always gettin Buck Ass Neked in the middle o the got damn road- wondering how long it'll be before Boss Hogg gets wind of the sh*t from his po dunk pastor friends and sends Rosco P. Coltrane out to teach them urbanista pinko commie faggots a lesson: "No more kayaking here for dem Duke Boys! We gonna pass a New Law round here--coo coo!" Anyway I wish kayakers would respect the fact that they gotta share the world with people of different sensibilities: going to someone else's neighborhood and dropping trow can be interpreted as being disrespectful. Keep all your sh*t outta the road, too. If I had a big red neck 4x4 nothing would be more satisfying than running over a bunch of pretty colored giant plastic dildos littered about like these kayakers think they own the place. Again: at least PRETEND ya got some respect for the locals, since most of you ARE NOT COOL ENOUGH to talk to them or interact.

F**king rafters: down on the White Salmon some commercial boats be blocking the rails like they own the place, and most of the private rafters drop their boat onto the basalt bench at the bottom of the rails like they be the only got damned rafters in the Milky Way Galaxy. Move that rubber (and your tupperware toyboats too) down the line you inconsiderate dolts! Boats are gonna keep sliding down the rails behind you. Muddiphuckas make me wish I had a light saber- I 'd take inspiration from The Slasher (local veteran guide) and melt some hypalon except do it Anikan style.

F**king Birds!! Making all that noise in the woods while I'm trying to run the river, ruining my wilderness experience... I'll tell ya!

I dont use the rope ever, just go through Paradise and back up to the slanted slope there and get out there. It is 10 times easier than using the rope...or just paddle down to Kay's landing.

Pretty cranky when we stay up past our bedtime, aren't we?

You shoulda heard the peepers here a few days ago, a deafening cacophony of amphibious orchestration.

I liked that, though.

For Lewis Black, I'm happy to have my thread stolen.

Still not happy to have the rope hijacked at Parrot Ice.