Lessons From the Elk River
Yesterday we went on a float trip down the Elk River, known for its varying water levels and rednecky goodness. For the Fourth of July, I donned my cutoff Levi shorts, packed up the leftover hotdogs and hamburgers, and headed out with my family for a 9-mile ride–little of which I would describe as floating.
I wanted to name this post "Things I Learned on the Elk River" but I realized the lessons here are actually not new, but ancient wisdom, life lessons we all know but seem to forget over and over. Maybe that's just me.
Here are a few lessons from the Elk.
Never stand up in a canoe. Just don't.
Climbing into a boat is easier on shore than mid-stream. Almost always.
In related good news, bleeding into a river does not attract sharks.
City girls aren't the only ones who seem to find out early, how to open doors with just a smile–or a lift of a beaded crop top. ("Mom, why is that man wearing all those necklaces?")
Speaking of children, for maximum relaxation, place competitive siblings in the same boat.
You never know who will push you out of a low spot, and sometimes people surprise you.
There is no such thing as too much river beer.
Believe the guy who says, "By noon, this will burn off."
Not everyone needs SPF 600. But I do.
Tube tops and string bikinis should have an expiration date. Maybe they should be burned at your fortieth birthday party. Or you thirtieth, depending.
One sandwich is never enough.
The last quarter-mile is always the hardest.
Always bring your phone. And duct tape. No exceptions.
"We should do this more often," for me, translates to, "We should do this again in a few years."
And again, in case you forgot already–never stand up in a canoe.
People in these parts consider a trip down the Elk River to be the peak of redneck bliss. Maybe, but where I come from, there are no canoes–only inner tubes, lifted from a nearby junkyard under cover of night and courage of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Top that, people of the Ozarks.
Image Credit: Ivy Dawned, Flickr
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