{"id":8,"date":"2012-01-30T21:25:28","date_gmt":"2012-01-30T21:25:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/community.nrs.com-2\/souls-and-water\/?p=8"},"modified":"2017-10-16T15:47:29","modified_gmt":"2017-10-16T22:47:29","slug":"dont-jack-yourself-up","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/2012\/01\/30\/dont-jack-yourself-up\/","title":{"rendered":"Don\u2019t Jack Yourself Up"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"Whether he\u2019s jacking up his van or his shoulder, whitewater kayaker and original \u201cRiver Gypsy\u201d Leland Davis keeps a great sense of humor and a healthy sense of perspective.<\/strong><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\u201cBad News!\u201d Andria informs me in an emphatic shout through the open passenger window over the din of the diesel, \u201cThe back tire\u2019s flat.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow flat?\u201d\u00a0 I shout back.<\/p>\n

\u201cPretty flat,\u201d she says in a matter-of-fact tone that sounds as flat as, well, a flat tire in the middle of nowhere.<\/p>\n

I slam it into park and set the brake, then open the door and carefully climb down to the narrow rock-and-dirt trail to investigate.\u00a0 It\u2019s a long way down \u2013 not only due to the height of the van, but because the 22-foot-long beast is perched sideways in the steep road with the tires up on a berm.\u00a0 We\u2019re trying to turn around.\u00a0 A large fallen oak was the visible impediment, but the foliage hid a bigger problem \u2013 an enormous chasm-like washout.\u00a0 About 10 feet of the road has washed away revealing two deeply-buried culverts which were obviously too small to handle the swollen creek in a big storm.\u00a0 An ATV track hops over the three-foot berm, crosses the creek, then hops the berm back to the road.\u00a0 There is no way anything larger than a 4-wheeler is traveling that bypass.<\/p>\n

This sort of crank jack may be the most perfect torture device ever invented \u2013 I think only the post-hole digger can compete.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Turning around on a small, steep, 4×4 trail in a 22 foot van is a test of automotive aerobics that I wouldn\u2019t wish on anybody.\u00a0 My method is to try to find a wide-ish spot, put it in 4×4, and then do about a 22 point turn, usually running over any rocks, bushes, or other obstacles on the edge of the road in the process.<\/p>\n

Upon inspection, the rear passenger-side tire is only mostly<\/em> flat, not quite down on the rim yet.\u00a0 Good news, because there\u2019s no way the tire is getting changed in this position.\u00a0 Hopefully we can complete the remaining 13 points of this turn-around and drive to a better spot before we\u2019re on the rim.\u00a0 I clamber back into the driver\u2019s seat with new resolve and put it in drive, then reverse, then drive, then reverse \u2013 all while watching Andria\u2019s directions through the passenger window and wrenching the steering wheel back and forth as the van lurches up and down the berm, accompanied by the roaring of the diesel and the crackling of brush.<\/p>\n

Finally, we are pointed toward what we now know is the only way to drive out.\u00a0 Andria hops in and we head up the road, searching for the perfect spot for our tire-changing adventure to play out.\u00a0 This will require a reasonably flat spot \u2013 not only because we know that our stock Ford jack sucks and is not really up to the task of lifting this 5+ ton monstrosity, but because it might be where we end up camping indefinitely if the jack doesn\u2019t get the job done.\u00a0 Our selected spot is about 1\/2 mile up the road, level side to side, and looks like as good a place as we are going to find for groveling in the roadbed.\u00a0 On one side of the road, just across a drainage ditch, is a steep slope leading up to a cliff, which is filled with useful-looking flat rocks.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
After this misadventure, I bought a real jack (shown).<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I quickly hop in the back and pull off the clean clothes I put on after I showered yesterday and pull my ten-days-worn dirty pants back on.\u00a0 Then I get out and open the tool bin, get out the pathetic little jack, the crappy tire tool that came with the van, and the other tire tool which will actually remove the lug nuts; we bought it after a similar episode where we learned the stock one doesn\u2019t work.\u00a0 The jack is propped under the axle on top of two of our plastic RV leveling lego blocks, and I use the silly, flimsy, fold-up hinged metal arm to crank the jack to full height.\u00a0 This sort of crank jack may be the most perfect torture device ever invented \u2013 I think only the post-hole digger can compete.\u00a0 It starts raining, and I pause to change into river shorts and Chacos because I\u2019m gonna get really wet.<\/p>\n

The jack is not jacking. The van is not rising. The rain is still falling. Things are not looking good for the River Gypsies.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

With the jack fully extended on two leveling blocks, the van is not high enough to remove the tire.\u00a0 We knew this would happen.\u00a0 I forage through the ditches for flat rocks that can be propped under the rear transfer case to hold the van up while we collapse the jack and add more leveling blocks to get it higher.\u00a0 The little rivulet of rainwater running down the road soaks me, coating me in sand and bits of dead leaves as I grunt and struggle under the extended back end of the van, wrestling the rocks into place.\u00a0 Then the jack is cranked in reverse, settling the van gently to rest on the rocks.\u00a0 Another couple of leveling legos are put under the jack.\u00a0 Andria has the spare off now and is handing tools to me while I crawl around.\u00a0 There is a wild pause while we search for the small plastic piece that holds one joint of the hinged arm of the jack crank straight.\u00a0 It has broken and\u00a0 flown off, but we find it and reattach it with gorilla tape.\u00a0 I start cranking.\u00a0 Another few inches, another rock, another leveling block.\u00a0 One more round with the jack and the tire will come off, so we undo the reluctant lug nuts, taking turns with the tire tool in the steady rain.\u00a0 We both swear we will never travel again without a can of WD-40.<\/p>\n

With all of the lug nuts off, it\u2019s time for the final jack session to lift the van up where the tire can be removed and the spare put on.\u00a0 I\u2019m covered in grit and leaves, and rainwater is dripping from my nose and elbows.\u00a0 I vigorously crank the jack handle for the final lift.<\/p>\n

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s funny, it wasn\u2019t clicking before.<\/p>\n

Nothing\u2019s happening.<\/p>\n

I turn the handle even faster.<\/p>\n

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click!\u00a0 F#*&!<\/p>\n

The jack is not jacking.\u00a0 The van is not rising.\u00a0 The rain is still falling.\u00a0 Things are not looking good for the River Gypsies.\u00a0To escape the rain, we climb into the van very carefully<\/em> because it\u2019s propped precariously with the transfer case sitting on a pile of rocks and all of the lug nuts are off on one wheel.\u00a0 The GPS – which by some miracle or curse actually has this defunct road in its database \u2013 says it\u2019s 3.2 miles across the washout to my nearest marked waypoint, where I know there is a decent dirt road leading another mile past a few houses to a highway.\u00a0 That\u2019s the closest way out of the woods.\u00a0 The clock is ticking.\u00a0 It\u2019s 1:40 pm.\u00a0 We have 6 hours until darkness forces us to spend the night perched on the rock pile.<\/p>\n

Incidents like this are not uncommon for us.\u00a0 The same zest for adventure and beauty that brings us to countless new rivers often leads us down obscure back roads in search of a scenic view or campsite.\u00a0 Often, the very best campsites can only be reached using patience, perseverance, 4×4, and high clearance.\u00a0 There is one such campsite that we love in the wilds of West Virginia, and after a grueling 10-day orgy of kayaking and socializing culminating with Gauley Fest, we felt that a second \u2018night off\u2019 camping in the wild was required after our first \u2018night off\u2019 at an RV campground.\u00a0 We needed a little bit more peace and quiet before returning to the busy put-in parking lot for 5 more days, and another rest day for bodies left dangerously achy after last week\u2019s whitewater binge.\u00a0 The \u2018rest day\u2019 I took from kayaking by guiding our raft on festival Saturday really didn\u2019t end up being restful at all.<\/p>\n

After miles of off-roading we had finally located the campsite, which was every bit as amazing as we remembered.\u00a0 We lounged around until noon the next day, then reluctantly headed out as the skies clouded up; we didn\u2019t relish the idea of driving these roads in the rain.\u00a0 I knew a quicker way out to pavement, so at a critical junction we had hastily decided to turn left instead of right, not knowing what misadventure awaited us down the leftward trail.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a fine line that separates an adventure from an epic, and the most innocent decisions can tip the delicate balance, knock you off your perfect line, and unravel the beautifully woven fabric of careful planning and glorious spontaneity that create the perfect trip.\u00a0Preparation is key when it comes to preventing small mistakes from becoming large problems.\u00a0 On this trip, our preparation is sorely lacking for heavy jacking.\u00a0 It\u2019s time to hike out.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve never been happier to be sitting in a port-a-john \u2013 I\u2019m even getting fresh tracks.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The plan is to walk out to the good gravel road where there will hopefully be cell service. I\u2019ll call around and find a friend to take me 25 winding miles to a parts store to get a bigger jack, which I will then carry to the van in a backpack.\u00a0 I put my dirty pants back on and throw my rain jacket, water bottle, some Clif Bars, and my cell phone into the backpack. I put on hiking boots and head out quickly.\u00a0 It\u2019s 1:45.<\/p>\n

2:05 pm.\u00a0 Twenty minutes of vigorous hiking later, and I\u2019m no longer thinking about the van at all.\u00a0 I\u2019m completely focused on what a bad idea it was to forego taking my usually clockwork-like morning dump due to the thickness of mosquitoes on the side of the ridge near the campsite.\u00a0 I\u2019m walking faster now, bordering on breaking into a clenched run on the uneven road.\u00a0 Luckily, the rain has stopped.\u00a0 Still, I really don\u2019t want to hunker in the soaked woods and do the caveman with leaves.<\/p>\n

2:30 pm.\u00a0 I\u2019ve never been happier to be sitting in a port-a-john \u2013 I\u2019m even getting fresh tracks.\u00a0This magnificent plastic beacon of modern civilization was awaiting me at my 3.2 mile waypoint, cleaned and stocked with accessories – even hand sanitizer.\u00a0 The only thing it doesn\u2019t have is cell service.\u00a0 It\u2019s another mile to the highway.<\/p>\n

2:45 pm.\u00a0 Standing on the side of a rural West Virginia highway with my thumb out, feeling strangely refreshed.\u00a0 Still no cell service.<\/p>\n

3:10 pm.\u00a0 At a convenience store at a highway junction 10 miles closer to town,\u00a0 feeling like I might actually pull this off.\u00a0 Still not enough cell service to call, although texts will eventually go through if I resend them about 20 times.\u00a0 It\u2019s not like I have anything else to do.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Although I\u2019m reclining in the photo, guiding the Gauley is not a good rest day. Photo: Jeff Matonis<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

4:00 pm.\u00a0 Getting discouraged because nobody is picking me up or answering my texts.\u00a0 The only traffic to the store is a steady stream of dirty men in baggy gray pants with reflective stripes sewn around the legs, coming down from the nearby mine for a break and a snack.\u00a0 A younger guy and a woman around my age ride past me on a camouflage 4-wheeler headed for the store.\u00a0 I look longingly at the ATV.\u00a0 A few minutes later, they come back and ask me where I\u2019m trying to get to.\u00a0 I guess they don\u2019t get many hitchhikers around here.\u00a0 I tell them I\u2019m going to the auto parts store.\u00a0 They ask what I need.\u00a0 I tell them what happened and where, and that I really need a big jack and a 4-wheeler.\u00a0 The young guy, Patrick, marvels at how far I\u2019ve come.\u00a0 He wonders why I didn\u2019t knock on somebody\u2019s door on the dirt road and ask for help.
\nThe woman agrees, \u201cyeah, all people ain\u2019t bad, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

I tell them I\u2019m not scared of local folks at all; but I know this area fills up with kayakers this time of year, and I didn\u2019t want to bother anybody who might already be sick of having us around.<\/p>\n

The irony that I camped last night in a decades-ago reclaimed mountaintop removal site strikes me hard at this point.\u00a0 We went there to take a break from paddling a dammed-up river.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Patrick wants to help and is sure they can get us out of this mess.\u00a0 \u201cCome on Mom,\u201d he implores, \u201clet\u2019s do a good deed for the day!\u201d\u00a0 They tell me to wait right there and they\u2019ll be back.\u00a0 Twenty-five minutes later they return with the 4-wheeler and a big floor jack loaded in the bed of a giant pickup.\u00a0 I put $30 of gas in the truck, and off we go to the end of the dirt road where I came out of the woods.<\/p>\n

Patrick\u2019s mom makes some conversation on the drive.\u00a0 \u201cSo what do you think of the coal mining?\u201d\u00a0 That\u2019s a loaded question around these parts, and not the small-talk I was expecting.<\/p>\n

I think for a moment before I reply.\u00a0 \u201cWell, as long as I want the lights to come on when I flip the switch, I can\u2019t really complain about coal mining.\u00a0 Power\u2019s got to come from somewhere.\u201d\u00a0 I\u2019m pretty sure that was covered in the coursework for my environmental science degree in energy management.<\/p>\n

This brings nods of approval.\u00a0 I have the sneaking suspicion that her husband\u2019s immaculate, raised, mud-tired 2500 Dodge crew cab in which we are riding was purchased with the fruits of coal mine labor.\u00a0 I do offer up that I don\u2019t like mountaintop removal.\u00a0 They agree that they don\u2019t like it either, but they seem resigned to the reality.\u00a0 The irony that I camped last night in a decades-ago reclaimed mountaintop removal site strikes me hard at this point.\u00a0 We went there to take a break from paddling a dammed-up river.\u00a0 The life of a river gypsy is replete with such ironies.<\/p>\n

Later, as we drive up the dirt track on the ATV, Patrick tells me that he\u2019s 21 and has been laid off from his job driving a fuel truck.\u00a0 He\u2019s divorced.\u00a0 He says he might end up getting a job at \u201cthe pit,\u201d which is what they call the mountaintop removal site nearby.\u00a0 He says girls around here like the guys in the pants with reflective stripes on them because those pants have deep pockets.\u00a0 Although he\u2019s lived here most of his life, like most locals he\u2019s never had the pockets for a raft trip down the Gauley.\u00a0 He\u2019d like to try it, so I get his number and promise we\u2019ll take him in our raft next year.\u00a0 Maybe he\u2019ll like it enough to train as a raft guide one day.\u00a0 I hear chicks dig guys with life jacket tans, too.<\/p>\n

A half hour before shouldering my boat to walk to the river, I pop 4 ibuprofen.\u00a0This is the kayaking equivalent to Pac Man chomping a power pellet.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

When we arrive at the van, we both go right to work getting the tire changed.\u00a0 By six o\u2019clock the spare is on, I\u2019ve given Patrick a few bucks for his help, and we\u2019re ready for the long drive back over the mountain to pavement.\u00a0 Before dark, Andria and I are back in the put-in parking lot telling tales of our adventure to friends, and looking forward to a day on the river tomorrow.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The temperature is perfect, and the sun shines gently down.\u00a0 I hurt all over.\u00a0 My rest days have been erased by the past day\u2019s epic; my shoulders and arms are on fire from the crank jack, and my legs are stiff and sore from the speed hike. A half hour before shouldering my boat to walk to the river, I pop 4 ibuprofen. This is the kayaking equivalent to Pac Man chomping a power pellet\u00a0:\u00a0 for a limited time, you can go completely berserk on everything in sight;\u00a0 but when it wears off, every ghost in the machine will be out to get you again.\u00a0 This is the day I\u2019ve been waiting for, though \u2013 the last day of 2800 cfs releases.\u00a0 It\u2019s Thursday, the crowds are gone, and it\u2019s my last chance to squirt the river and get a session at Last Chance \u2013 a mystery move spot at the take-out that is inaccessible at higher water.\u00a0 My body is not willing, but my mind will not be denied.\u00a0 As I slide into the water, I think again what a privilege it is to have this opportunity for aquatic self indulgence.<\/p>\n

On the river, it\u2019s just me and a tiny sliver of glittering fiberglass swirling inside an atmospheric orb of warm green water and bright blue sky.\u00a0 The water washes over and around me as I cruise through the brilliantly foamy chaos of rapids, and eddylines open up like elevator shafts into the river\u2019s dark embrace.\u00a0 At the end I cycle alone in the mystery trance, a zombie lost in water and time.\u00a0 Paddle up, surf across, sink the bow, kick the hip \u2013 BREATHE IN \u2013 vanish and swirl, swirl, swirl.\u00a0 Last chance, Last Chance.\u00a0 It\u2019s the perfect day I\u2019ve been seeking.<\/p>\n

The following morning I realize that was the last paddling day of the trip.\u00a0 My body won\u2019t take any more.\u00a0 If I went, I would be boating just to boat, to make a point, to complete a mission \u2013 the pain and fatigue would win their wrestling match with fun, and injury would follow close behind.\u00a0 This trip will end 4 days sooner than planned.\u00a0 The reason why is a mystery.\u00a0 Is it because I paddled too hard yesterday?\u00a0 Or maybe on the 6 days in a row last week?\u00a0 Was it that we didn\u2019t have a sufficient jack?\u00a0 Or maybe that we took that left instead of staying right?\u00a0 In truth, it\u2019s no different than our off-road misadventure: it was strictly a matter of lack of preparation.<\/p>\n

In past years, I\u2019ve arrived at the Gauley fit from summers of kayaking, ready to paddle hard for many days in a row.\u00a0 This year, I spent much of my summer in the back of a raft.\u00a0 Rafting is a ton of fun and great exercise in its own right, but it\u2019s not good preparation for a beefy two weeks of kayaking.\u00a0 Attempting this was like driving far into the backwoods in a beefy 5 ton vehicle with only a little factory jack \u2013 a recipe for misadventure, or worse.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Boofing into El Horrendo on the Russel Fork. Photo: Andria Davis<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

A couple of weeks later, ghosts from the trip still haunt me.\u00a0 One shoulder is tweaked and I\u2019m missing paddling days \u2013 whether from the jack or the squirt boat I\u2019ll never know.\u00a0 I just know that I took the ride a little too far.\u00a0 The lesson?\u00a0 I should temper my expectations for future vacations based on realistic assessments of my level of preparation.\u00a0 Just because I want to go down a road or a river doesn\u2019t mean I can or should.\u00a0 The ghosts are always out there, and the higher the level or quantity of adventure I seek, the harder they give chase.\u00a0 The goal cannot be simply to achieve the greatest volume of recreation in the available time, but to optimize for long-term fun.\u00a0 I must balance prudence with judicious audacity, and the goals of the mind with the abilities of the body in order to maximize overall enjoyment.\u00a0 After all, fun isn\u2019t measured in river or road miles, but in how much you enjoy the ride.<\/p>\n

Plan wisely \u2013 travel well.<\/p>\n

Leland<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It\u2019s a fine line that separates an adventure from an epic, and the most innocent decisions can tip the delicate balance, knock you off your perfect line, and unravel the beautifully woven fabric of careful planning and glorious spontaneity that create the perfect trip.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":3108,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[336],"tags":[42,59,33],"class_list":["post-8","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-explore","tag-injuries","tag-travel","tag-whitewater-kayaking","post-grid"],"yoast_head":"\nDon\u2019t Jack Yourself Up | Duct Tape Diaries | NRS<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Whether he\u2019s jacking up his van or his shoulder, whitewater kayaker and original \u201cRiver Gypsy\u201d Leland Davis keeps a great sense of humor.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, 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