I Should've Brought The Video Camera

Buzz in when you think you know how the story ends.

Playing disc golf today, I came upon the hole that crosses the river twice. I never used to play this hole until I found out there is an amateur tee. From this tee, there's about a 100 foot toss to the rivers edge and then it's only about 40 feet across the river. (Did you buzz yet?)

My first toss hit a tree and so I had about 80 feet or so to get across the river. And, of course, I threw* my disc right into the river. Right in the middle. I walked out on a little sand bar area and tried to use a tree (literally a tree, it weighed about 90 lbs. and was about 15 feet long) to snatch it. It was not long enough. Despite having some new discs on the way, I was not going to give in easily.

I threw* some stones into the river to step on. Yep, stones on top of slimy river stones equals no walking on stones.

I crossed the bridge to see about trying from the other side. It didn't look any better. Someone had cut a tree down (a big tree, 14-16" diameter) and I thought about using some of the logs as stepping stones (well, stepping logs) but that seemed really stupid. The river was laughing at me. With no other options, I went home empty handed...

where I grabbed my hiking boots, some plastic bags, extra socks and a towel and I headed back to my Moby river. I sat down and took off my shoes, covered my feet with bags and put on my boots. The boots would hold out water up to 3 inches or so. The bags would allow about another 6 if needed. I found a walking stick and headed in. I thought, "Who's laughing now?"

On my second step I slipped briefly but quickly found my bearings. Five feet out my boots were still keeping out the water but things were about to get deeper. At ten feet, I was in about 5 inches of water and could feel a slight tinge of cold creeping through my boots. Were the bags holding? I couldn't tell. I was racing against time now.

Fifteen feet out I had a problem. The deepest part of the river, the only deep part in fact was ahead and I could not walk through it. The disc was only 5 feet way. Thinking quick, I grabbed my stick (my walking stick for crying out loud) and, finding the strength of one man, managed to snag my disc and drag it toward me. Disc in hand, I scrambled back to shore like an overgrown wading bird. The insides of the boots were wet (not soaked) but the bags held and my socks were dry. I gather my gear and headed home...playing a few holes along the way. And as I walked I thought, "I wonder how much a pair of waders cost."

* - Thanks to Rick S. for pointing out these f-ups. I really need to start proforeading my work.