Back to the apartment, my friend and I went about packing for some outdoor escapades. This shouldn't have been too taxing as everything I could need was either stored in my car or next to my airbed, and his vehicle is generally prepared for such outings at any given moment. But since I was fishing, you see, I simply
had to unpack (and subsequently assemble) my own rod purchased (and subsequently neglected) several summers prior. I believe there's a pic/post further back of this very procedure.
We stopped by a food store to get essentials (I bought a can of jerky chew) then headed out along the river.
The weather was warm as the sun was out, even if clouds eclipsed it from time to time. What didn't bode well was the presence of violent winds at our chosen campsite. Well, saying that was our 'chosen' campsite is misleading; after the third or fourth gust of dirt/sand mixture ripped across our faces we decided to settle on such things after a lazy river float. And because neither of us are men of (much) logical action, we inflated our huge inner tubes then and there before driving to the starting point.
It turns out our wind issues were more or less isolated to where we'd stopped as once that drift down the river began the rest of the day saw nary a breeze. Though inexplicably, what I'd expected to be a three hour float finished in about half that time.
Short or no, the following hour and a half proved pretty amusing: it started as we approached the river to the sight of an unmanned inner tube floating downstream, coupled with the distinct sound of a disappointed kid thrashing through shallow water.
Maybe I should have gotten that runaway tube for the kid.
And maybe he shouldn't have let it go in the first place.
Sometimes what seems like inconsideration is really just helping a boy become a man.
After a bit the clouds dispersed and my friend, myself and the tethered net of beers behind us basked in a blue sky of sunlight bordered by an incredible mountain range ahead. Every now and again we'd gravitate towards the edges of the river and someone would get up to drag everything back to the center of things. This became more frequent the further we went along - go figure.
Miraculously I never capsized...I like to believe I have a solid center of gravity.
It was now time to find a good campsite and get settled. In no time flat the tent was set, fishing rods were assembled (his) and Deschutes brews were cracked (mine). Again, I could not have asked for a better scenario.
Then those two vehicles pulled up.
On the nearby dirt path an old, tan RV followed by the quintessential "My First Car" coupe pulled over and a 19-or-so fella exits the RV, dressed in modern skater apparel ('skater' in a clothing-fad rather than lifestyle sense, if you follow me). What appears to be his girlfriend stays in the car behind. Friendly enough, he asked if I knew of any campsites further up the road, and if they were available. I told him I didn't know, but figured as much. He looked up the road a bit, then casually mentioned if there weren't any lots left if we'd mind sharing our site with them. He would cover the cost of the lot for the inconvenience, of course.
He seemed decent and I saw no reason to turn them away so I said sure. Plus, there was no reason to believe all other lots would be taken on a Monday night anyway. I went back to my site and he back to the black car tailing him to discuss things (I guess).
Five or so minutes later he comes back (from their vehicles - no sign that they'd put either in D during that time) and said that all the sites seemed taken. I figure what the hell and tell them to pull in and make themselves comfortable. Again, I go back about my business.
A little later I head over to where they'd been and find his RV parked in front of
our car, but the black coupe (along with the couple) were nowhere to be seen.
Huh.
I shrug it off and head over to my friend who, while fishing most of that time, was aware of the circumstances up to that point. I mention the current situation, and he looks long and hard at the seemingly vacant RV. He then asks me if I've seen the show
Breaking Bad. Good point.
The rest of the evening was a mixture of mac & cheese, dares to climb on Ted Turner's private property and inventing hilarious scenarios wherein we both met our demise due by the myriad things that tattered, towering house-on-wheels might harbor.
By nightfall I stopped caring (besides my phone had accrued photos of their license plate in case my corpse went missing) and my friend and I hit the proverbial hay under a sky nearly consumed with stars. Seriously; I had forgotten what the milky way had looked like (or really that it had even existed). Yes, that overhead display has since ruined any and all future mid-night bathroom breaks for me - you just can't top relieving yourself under Mother Nature's night light.
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Who survived?
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