So there's a bit of non-paddle entry here but I'll try to keep that part short. This summer I went to my sister's graduation in Wisconsin, visited a friend in Brookfield, took Physics II at UMSL in four weeks, went out East, flew to my uncle's wedding in California on Hollister Ranch and did all of California in 12 days, flew back East, and eventually wound up at school a day and a half before classes to start moving into a new apartment. ...and now for the 'went out east' and 'flew back east' section... The Cheoah River looks amazing. I took some pictures of friends paddling, ran their shuttle, and really should have paddled with them. The whole 'but I just drove 12 hours' is not an excuse for a river that runs perhaps a few weekends out of the year. The Big-Un looked fantastic. I could totally picture a raft going over the center drop if you could get enough speed up to not piton in at the bottom. The Chattooga River was just that. Chatt means rocky. We stopped asking what the level was in order to get an actual answer. Instead it was either 'point low' or 'point lower.' Although yes, 7ft proved a great battle to see if you could get the annoying guests out of your raft while keeping g-paw securely in his seat. The guide’s personalities came out a lot this summer since they found things to do besides paddle after work (like build a mini ramp, go long boarding, and brew beer). I learned a ton in the short time I was there about paddling – other people - rivers - water - and myself in general. This summer was definitely one of those I’ll look back on and will continually amaze me. I think there were a record number of Staph infections this year. Bactroban 2% was my savior. Another company eventually succumbed to the antibiotic resistant Staph and was pretty much desecrated for the rest of the season. This was scary - to realize that doing what you love most is not dangerous enough due to the undercut rocks or class V rapids - but rather a flesh eating bacteria that cannot be prevented no matter the number or frequency of your showers. Scary. A guy had his calf carved out because the antibiotic resistant Staph had eaten his leg away! My first day back at the Chattooga I paddled my play boat (pyrhana s:6) with a section IV trip. It felt so great to be back on the water and surrounded by the mountains that not even my three roles in Jaw-Bone rapid could put a damper on my freakishly enjoyable day. I did the five falls a few times each and played in the pool below Soc-Em-Dog like I was in the rec filling my boat with water to do some messy bow stalls. On that first day I met most of the newbees and caught up with people I hadn’t swapped more than a few words with in a year. It was great. Then work started and by the end of my time there I was R-1ing my raft up the Camp Creek trail and tossing water coolers like it was nobody’s business. I made sure to paddle a hard boat again just before leaving on my last day off. The water was so low that I actually walked through The Gulch in Entrance rapid and stood on a rock between Entrance and Corkscrew as well as almost getting stuck at the top of Soc-Em-Dog for lack of water. Loved every moment of it. People ask me how in the world I find it fun to paddle at low water. I don’t think they realize that paddling for me has never been about being macho, but rather a beacon of light in a very long, dark tunnel. During a single semester at school as a preDental student in a landlocked state with only one whitewater river whose peak season is the dead of winter does wonders for your way of thinking. For me, it just feels right. That wasn’t much of a paddle blog but this file was on my computer so I figured I would post it. (skip this part) I had to explain my sport to the new head of the MIZZOU Club Sports department. She didn’t get it. She’s from NC and she didn’t get it. I tried for an hour and 10 minutes to tell her why we do not have 16 competitions a year or tell her three weeks in advance when we will be going on a trip, and all she did was GIGGLE when I told her that I loved the rain and painted my toe-nails blue. She thought it was silly. I said “…we’re a whitewater club, not a slalom racing team. We’re students who love to paddle and the school has always supported things students love to do.” She said we weren’t competitive. I said I didn’t feel like being in The Green Race. She said we needed to fundraise more money. I said we paid for our own things as had been the case for over 30 years. She said I needed to submit paperwork at least 3 weeks in advance. I told her to go find a weather man who would tell me when the Saint or a creek in town would be up 3 weeks in advance -- and to shove him up her ass. Whitewater. Silly. I think not. Sorry, that had nothing to do with actual paddling. I just hate ignorant people.. I was in a psychology study freshman year in college. They said that the only reason humans are alive is because they deal with the thought of death. The reasons we don’t kill ourselves at the thought of death are what we love to do and take pride in doing. They determined that my family, schoolwork, and a combination of kayaking and field hockey were the reasons I had found to occupy my mind instead of contemplating my own mortality. They didn’t have any idea what whitewater was. They had no idea I would soon become the president of a large university’s whitewater club. They knew, however – that it kept me alive. I thought it was funny at the time. | 
