My Little Golden Book of Phobias

So I went to Portland for the weekend and J and I went kayaking, among other things. We were a tad bit ambitious in our paddle plans. Ok, it was Memorial Day weekend and everyone was out  in their BIGASS boats making huge waves and trying to KILL us. We actually watched two guys load their boat- towin' truck with many cases of beer, the kind of boat with flames painted on the sides and a gazillion horse power engine. Oh, and a sound system that plays AC/DC REAL LOUD, oh yas. 

The bird sanctuary where we were headed was also the route to the Columbia, a mighty river indeed. Full of muscle boats and their, ahem, drivers. Ah, nature. I began to feel unkindly toward my fellow humans. 

Then there was the, uh, distance we decided to travel. 9 nautical miles, nothing really, except for the current and the drunken, frat boy boaters (see above), oh and a tug boat thing with a giant sweeper arm at the bow that made enormous waves, sorta like surfing in a tippy leetle soup bowl. And sunburn. Lets not forget the sunscreen next time. 

We took a break at some point and we lay on the sand groaning. The next day I reviewed the names of all affected muscles, a long list. 

Fun, I tell you. Glorious nature.