Elmstreet

I was standing in cold rushing water, in Alaska.  But as I took stock of my position, I realized I was not in a river, but on a beach with waves breaking around me.  We were all searching, then soft serve mike yelled, "we're too far out, they are closer to the beach!"  We turned and walked a picket line back toward shore and silvery silhiquets began to appear.  Realizing I didn't have the right gear, I trudged on and as I reached the shore I was standing in a make shift locker room in what I preceived to be a large fishing vessel.  What the?!?  No dry bags, everything was wet, I was just wearing a pair of jeans, which I now realized were soaking and I was shaking with cold... Where are my waders?!!  Then as I was pealing off the wet jeans, in walks Denise (awkward, reminiscent of tent drop 2014).   She doesn't seem to notice and in her typical cheery way asks how its going and wonders why we haven't booked the flights.  Seems Ricks on a drop right now, but the rest of the week is filling up.  Mike and Jb are now in the locker room, both in waders.  Denise questions Mike about some money he owes her for a flight last year and says they won't fly him again, or us, until he settles... WHAT THE!?!?!   Mike says no problem, we are planning on doing the carnival cruise this year anyway!

I am totally befuddled...   We're not doing a cruise, are you nuts!?!  Mikes nodding his head, up and down in the affirmative until I finally yell, "Not just no. Hell no Mike!!"  "Well" Mike responds, chuckling and nonchalant, "you don't have any of your gear up here and Rick is all booked, so it's either work this Commerical salmon boat or take the Carnival cruise up to Skagway."

The lights in the lockeroom flicker off and as my eyes adjust I can see long long fingers in the corner of the room moving rhythmically... But they aren't just fingers, they are blades, long sharp blades... I scream, "Freddie!!".

Back bacon sandwich, hold the bread

"Please keep your bags with you at all times, we will begin boarding Tikchik Air flight 01 to Civilization in twelve hours"... We throw our crap all over the gravel bar, pretending that if we aren't stowed and ready to go, the beaver won't come and the sun will never rise on the last day in country.  Hondo is tapped out, proclaimed a few hours before that he was sated, satisfied, fulfilled, ready to go home.  Pablo's thoughts wander to the next river, a new river he'll float with his wife and Soft Serve Mikey.  Two weeks of floating the Alaskan outback and his enthusiasm runs high for another go.  Leaving me alone to ponder the end, the inevitability, neither the spirit nor the flesh can accept reality.  So I dump out all my stuff and mill about taking inventory, pretending the sun's long shadows will stretch ever longer and never ending.  

We ate sand..... ya ate what?

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the swift river and the music in its roar, 
I love not man the less, but nature more.

There is a misery in the paved road,
There is depression in the concourse of masses
There is a longing where all abode
By the roaring freeway and the deafening din,
Wilderness alone is the balm, humanity wears me thin.