River Hugging

My husband is in the dining room ranting, I can hear him from upstairs. As I come down the stairs I call out, "What?" and he says,
"That's it! I am posting 'I have a question for all you bible-thumping gun nuts: if we pass Blue Laws in every state how will you buy your beer on Super Bowl Sunday so you can get drunk and beat your wives? I just want to know?!' "
To which I reply mildly "are you posting that to facebook?" foreseeing another round of un-friendings. Then I think,
 "Meh, who cares? I've shed almost everyone who has thin skin, and so has he." But it also occurs to me:
"If the bible-thumpers are planners they will just buy their beer on Saturday, how hard can it be?"

Really? If beer isn't available people will just stock up, right? But I am resentful at the idea. I am not a Christian, and live in a free country, right? Should your religious freedom impact mine? I think not. That's what makes our country so desirable, eh?

I spent my Sunday paddling. One might call the Potomac "nature's great cathedral." The clouds are the murals painted far above and the waters the polished marble floors. The trees far away on the furthest banks the columns holding the sky and waters apart. The beach, where we launch and land, expressing our gratitude for solid earth, much like an altar.

My cathedral

We launched at 9 am from Leesylvania State Park. The park has a lovely natural sand beach, we shun the unmaintained and boat chomping "car top launch" for the beach. We launched, us six paddlers, to cross the Potomac to the Maryland side, entering Mattawoman Creek.

Crossing as low tide was waning the currents from the Occoquan River entering the Potomac up-river and to the left of us, and the Mattawoman entering down river and to the right of us create quite a bit of mixed up chop. The wind was blowing to the East, from behind us, also creating choppy swells washing over our sterns and turning the boats without rudders or skegs with every blow.

At one point a sudden swell or boat wake came at Jesse and I as we amiably paddled together, from behind and to the right. As I saw it curling above his head out of the corner of my eye all I could say was "uh oh!" as I pressed my paddle hard to port and the rear of my boat as I also shoved hard against the left rudder peddle, pushing the rudder all the way to port. Even as I turned left, his boat was swept up 10 feet and dropped right against my boat, the second swell shoving it hard into my hull, Jesse caught the front of my boat as he was lifted again and pushed it out of the way as he was swept on by another 20 feet. All in the blink of an eye. Whoosh. No one flipped, paddle onward.

We entered the mostly quiet and very wide creek near the left hand bank in order to miss the larger convergence of the river and creek to the right of us. Many power boats nestle here in the wide mouth, people splashing about, and jet and water skiers taking advantage of the flat water. It is quite lovely and worth the challenging paddle across the river, or the hour plus drive, to put in at the "Slavins ramp."

As we paddled up stream we met, as expected, another group from our club, whom had entered the Creek at Slavins. We mixed up and chatted with our buddies for a bit before continuing up stream to Slavins for lunch.

Meeting our buddies

After lunch we launched again into the rising tide. Quite a few more power boats were out and the Creek was no longer flat and quiet.

Leaving Slavins Ramp

At one point my husband and I, trailing the group, were caught by a large wake as it climbed a sand bar to our left. We both watched it swell into a mini pipe, complete with foaming edge. Trouble. I knew I would have to turn left immediately in order to take the wave across the front of my boat, rather than from the side, which would have been disastrous. I laid my boat, a Solstice GTS new to me only the last two months, over on its left edge and trailed my paddle out long in a left sweeping drag in order to turn it fast. I barked "hah!" like I was making a hip throw on the judo mat. But the wave overtook me as I was coming up, it swept over my fore-deck and all the way up to slap my face. I closed my eyes at the last moment to keep the salt water out of them and then opened them to see my bow rising to the top of the next wave in the series. I was wet, but I didn't go over and shouted "hah bitch!" as I came over the next wave. My husband yelled "Nicely paddled!" as we escaped the echo, the waves rebounding from shore. I don't believe I could have pulled that off in any other boat.

My companions had left the ramp paddling fast, while I dawdled, resting mostly. When we got to the mouth of the Mattawoman the Potomac looked very very wide and Virginia very far away. One and then another of our group began flagging. My husband, a much better paddler than I, trailed behind as sweep. I closed the gap between myself and the two front runners over the next 20 minutes or so. Jesse and I were out in front as I told him how the jet skis at Leesylvania make the beach a perfect place to practice self rescues, due to the unusual chop they create. He said "see what you mean" as they jetted by with rooster tails of spray, back and forth in front of the beach. I led the way in but waited off shore until Jesse landed to get him to capture my bow as I've dumped my self in the sand here several times trying to exit after a long paddle. Noodle legs and all.

Wow, 13.5 miles, two bodies of water, and sun exposure all the way down to my bra straps. Oh my! Jump at the chance to do it again in a flash!

Kat and I on the same beach with our boats July 1st, 2012