Im teaching a mini fast paced guide school. Smacking in four runs a day on the Racecourse. Exhausted. John takes this opportunity to gather friends and colleges and go run the Razorblades above the Upper Box. A nice class 3-4 run in the middle of nowhere. Its important to note the location bc I end up having to go to the middle of nowhere to try and find these guys.
5:30. Dairy Queen in hand, Spana. I get a a call for John that starts: "Emergency, everyone is ok...". The DQ almost comes out of nose. So I send all the students back in the other car and proceed to drive north in the Purple and then back home for the next 5.5 hours. Their shuttle van was high-centered in the mud, off the road, in a ditch, 5 miles back from the nearest pavement, and a guy named JR has the keys and is apparently going to tow it out the next day. I got to bed at about 1:00 am.
On the water they almost missed the takeout by 200 feet, sending them into the Upper Box class 5-6 gnar.
Love it, wet.
Soon: Giant Apology Letter from the BLM
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1 comment:
Oh man! I miss rafting SO MUCH!
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