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.