or have someone else row it for you is what I always say. . .
Yesterday Tony and I were at a loss as to how to spend the hot, beautiful day. We researched aquatic opportunities from Warm Springs Canyon (supposedly in Walla Walla) to Emma Lake out near Kahlotus. Swimming? Floating? Fishing? What to do! We debated about the water level of the Touchet this time of year and the floating merits of both the Snake and the Columbia. Nadia chimed in and voted ardently against the Snake because "Dad gets to distracted by the boats at the Snake River and uses up all of our time in the water and at the park". I protested the Columbia because of a deep seeded fear of that river after a spiders nest and dunking incident I won't go into today. I believe I finally was persuaded to try our oars in the Columbia after Tony swore he would take all emotional responsibility in the event that our children were simultaneously swept into an undercurrent, entangled in aquatic plant life only to become bloated balloons of drowning death despite life jackets.
I realize I may have been overreacting a bit, but like I said I have a profound fear of the Columbia.
Once again Tony was right. After purchasing two 2-man rafts complete with oars and foot pumps, 2 new life jackets for growing kids and a few snacks we were off to pump till our foots were purple on the bank at Chiawana park. Yes we looked totally stupid pump-pump-pumping among the jet skis, ski boats, party boats and sail boats but we were here for adventure.
At this point you might be asking yourself what happened to Tony's beautiful sailboat? It is currently tangled in bureaucratic Oregon and Washington licensing red tape and is dry docked next to our garage. Any who...
I insisted Aidan accompany me because lets face it, if this raft gets capsized Nadia and I as a duo wouldn't have a snowballs chance in Pasco's summer of surviving. And so we row. Tony gracefully puts oar to water and glides effortlessly up the current. And again he delicately slips his oars into the water and seamlessly back through the air pushing further upstream. He is a thing of beauty. Nadia is a little nervous and adjusts her position again and again but that doesn't stop his cadence.
And then there Aidan and I spin in circles, first left then splash. splash. thwack. right. Back to shore, out too far into boat traffic, left then right then curse curse curse!!! I look over my shoulder at my husband expecting an encouraging smile or a look of concern. No no no, not my Tony. He is bustin' a gut and can't even compose himself to offer a suggestion. Not that I would have taken his suggestions any way. Aidan, who lounged against the back of the raft offered to help but still we didn't make much head way. Finally we covered a stretch of wet and then Tony offered to tow us.
and thus my friends my plan worked. Muuhaahaahaa!
Yeah, I am kidding. There was no evil genius in this plan. I seriously can not row a stinkin boat. My arms are all googily catywhompus. I thought I had it but then there we'd be, spinning in jagged circles. My only reputable moment of the trip was when Tony's oar snapped (presumably from hauling the large caboose) I did jump into the fear-inducing water and swim to get the pieces. Ok, so I did throw a hissy fit complete with shouts of Eww! Eww! Eww! when my feet touched the slimy undergrowth as I tried to get back aboard.
Thank goodness I had packed my laugh.
We rowed up, jumped out, played, towed the kids as they kicked, snacked, floated back, marveled at the reeds, the homes and the sailboat wonders.
The trip was a relaxing, beautiful, silly, Bachartish, tan-evening delight.