When I was in the army, our platoon sergeant decided we needed some team building, in the form of adventure training. I worked in a bridging unit, which meant we had lots of access to boats and rafts.
So our sergeant took the lieutenant and a two man raft, to find a place to go. They went in the Spring, after a few weeks of heavy rain. The Shenandoah River isn't really known for it's rapids, but I guess after all the rain, the two men on the little raft thought they were going to die. So, of course, when they got to the end of their ride, they looked at each other and said, "This is the spot!!"
Due to logistics, we couldn't make the trip until August. With no rain the previous months, the Shenandoah had returned to it's leisurely pace; the slow stroll of a young couple in love.
Needless to say, "adventure training" was now a life and leisure tour. Thirty, testosterone filled young men, gliding gently down the river.
We had two 15 man rafts and one two man raft with the a cooler full of food... and probably beer. We were jumping off rafts, swimming, throwing each other in the water, laughing and actually, having a good time.
At some point, I jumped off my big raft and climbed in with my two buds, and the cooler, in the little one. Because there were only three of us and because we really didn't care, the two larger rafts were constantly getting pretty far up ahead of us.
So there we were, Don in front, me in the middle and Joey in the back, paddling and drifting along. We got bored and started smacking the water with our oars. If you do it right, it can sound like the crack of a .22. It was fun.
The larger rafts had long been lost in the twists and turns of the river, when we came around a bend and saw a beautiful house, nestled in thick woods, back off the river on our left. On our right was a towering, horseshoe shaped cliff the river bumped into, before turning and moving on.
I said, "I wonder what it sounds like here!" as I smacked my oar on the water. Sure enough, "KA-POW" bounced off the curved cliff and seemed to magnify my "gunshot." Don and Joey, of course, grabbed their oars and the three of us unloaded an arsenal of .22 rounds into the water. We finally collapsed in the raft, laughing at what great marksmen we were.
Then, out of the wood line, stepped a guy who looked like Phil Robertson, from Duck Dynasty. He pointed a long bony finger at us and yelled, "THERE THEY ARE!".
That's when I saw the rifle.
Now I can't swear to it, but it seemed like time slowed down as he lifted that rifle to his shoulder, and somewhere, in the back of my mind, I began to hear banjos playing.
Then chaos.
The rifle cracked and water flew in our faces all at the same time. Having been army trained, there was no hesitation, we immediately began screaming like little girls.
Don and I sunk our ores into the water and began paddling, like two guys from the Oxford crew team. Joey, in the back of the boat, had never even heard of Oxford. He was also as strong as a horse. All he knew how to do was paddle as hard as he could on one side of the boat.
With the Clydesdale in back, it didn't really matter where Don and I wanted to go, we were at Joey's mercy.
So there we were, the repeated crack of the rifle, water flying up everywhere, three soldiers screaming, spinning like a giant merry-go-round, drifting ever so slowly away from danger.
Now I know good and well, an old guy, from the hill's of Virginia, could have put us down in three shots or less. He just wanted to move us along. And that he did.
But here are four things I learned that day.
1.A lazy day can get frantic fast, enjoy it while it lasts. 2. When you're having fun, you might want to stop and ask yourself, "Could this get me shot?" 3. Before you give someone access to the steering wheel, make sure they know how to drive. 4. There's no better place to spin out of control than the lazy waters of the Shenandoah River.
So our sergeant took the lieutenant and a two man raft, to find a place to go. They went in the Spring, after a few weeks of heavy rain. The Shenandoah River isn't really known for it's rapids, but I guess after all the rain, the two men on the little raft thought they were going to die. So, of course, when they got to the end of their ride, they looked at each other and said, "This is the spot!!"
Due to logistics, we couldn't make the trip until August. With no rain the previous months, the Shenandoah had returned to it's leisurely pace; the slow stroll of a young couple in love.
Needless to say, "adventure training" was now a life and leisure tour. Thirty, testosterone filled young men, gliding gently down the river.
We had two 15 man rafts and one two man raft with the a cooler full of food... and probably beer. We were jumping off rafts, swimming, throwing each other in the water, laughing and actually, having a good time.
At some point, I jumped off my big raft and climbed in with my two buds, and the cooler, in the little one. Because there were only three of us and because we really didn't care, the two larger rafts were constantly getting pretty far up ahead of us.
So there we were, Don in front, me in the middle and Joey in the back, paddling and drifting along. We got bored and started smacking the water with our oars. If you do it right, it can sound like the crack of a .22. It was fun.
The larger rafts had long been lost in the twists and turns of the river, when we came around a bend and saw a beautiful house, nestled in thick woods, back off the river on our left. On our right was a towering, horseshoe shaped cliff the river bumped into, before turning and moving on.
I said, "I wonder what it sounds like here!" as I smacked my oar on the water. Sure enough, "KA-POW" bounced off the curved cliff and seemed to magnify my "gunshot." Don and Joey, of course, grabbed their oars and the three of us unloaded an arsenal of .22 rounds into the water. We finally collapsed in the raft, laughing at what great marksmen we were.
Then, out of the wood line, stepped a guy who looked like Phil Robertson, from Duck Dynasty. He pointed a long bony finger at us and yelled, "THERE THEY ARE!".
That's when I saw the rifle.
Now I can't swear to it, but it seemed like time slowed down as he lifted that rifle to his shoulder, and somewhere, in the back of my mind, I began to hear banjos playing.
Then chaos.
The rifle cracked and water flew in our faces all at the same time. Having been army trained, there was no hesitation, we immediately began screaming like little girls.
Don and I sunk our ores into the water and began paddling, like two guys from the Oxford crew team. Joey, in the back of the boat, had never even heard of Oxford. He was also as strong as a horse. All he knew how to do was paddle as hard as he could on one side of the boat.
With the Clydesdale in back, it didn't really matter where Don and I wanted to go, we were at Joey's mercy.
So there we were, the repeated crack of the rifle, water flying up everywhere, three soldiers screaming, spinning like a giant merry-go-round, drifting ever so slowly away from danger.
Now I know good and well, an old guy, from the hill's of Virginia, could have put us down in three shots or less. He just wanted to move us along. And that he did.
But here are four things I learned that day.
1.A lazy day can get frantic fast, enjoy it while it lasts. 2. When you're having fun, you might want to stop and ask yourself, "Could this get me shot?" 3. Before you give someone access to the steering wheel, make sure they know how to drive. 4. There's no better place to spin out of control than the lazy waters of the Shenandoah River.
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