And so it begins... Wedding log entry #1

So I crushed the proposal. Absolutely nailed it. Though, after announcing this to the whole world nobody seemed to notice the spark, that initial amazing spark that lit this 5 alarm proposal fire. Nope, I received the obligatory congratulations which was immediately followed by, "when's the date?" The date? I thought incredulously!?! After hunting down/buying the perfect ring, designing a romantic proposal, and managing to get her to say "yes" I figured it would be all champaign and caviar dreams for a couple of months/years, you know, smooth sailing.  But no, that insesent nursery rhythm began  echoing in my mind, "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage." The wedding date questions inundated us. Not that I am opposed to getting married, obviously, but this pace was unexpected. And.. nearly all of my remaining single undergraduate friends all got engaged within 2-3 weeks of my own proposal. But Emily, being of strong character, determined our date and set out looking for sweet locations.  We both truly wanted an Alaskan wedding.  What marvels, magic, and misadventures we planned to share with our guests in the last frontier.  However, it turns out that my little town is just that, a little town that is too small to support the splendor that we imagined our wedding to be. So we decided that a Northwest wedding would be our spectacle, our ode to our upbringings, and a glimpse to our friends and family of the environment we envision living.  We chose Kitsap Memorial State Park. The park offers beautiful natural surroundings of 300 foot trees, sweeping views of Hood Canal, and a rustic CCC lodge from the early 1930's.  But here is where the story really begins....

As with any wedding venue, we were not the only ones wanting a summer wedding at this site, but being on the other side of the country presented a slight problem for securing a date. Luckily we had Sam and Mary Jo Eck on the case. After exhaustive research they discovered that on the specific opening registration date we could call in our request but in-person requests were always honored first. The ranger cabin opened at 8am.  So the Eck clan set out the day before and lo and behold there were already other power couples/parents milling around looking to obtain their magical dates too. That evening a ranger came out and literally shoo'd everyone away from the ranger office stating that, "we can't allow non-campers to be hanging around this station waiting to get wedding dates." Begrudgingly, the Ecks, a mountain climbing couple, a world class running fiancee, a bridezilla, and several other competitors slinked cautiously away from the cabin and hovered at the minimum allowable distance waiting to pounce. At one point the bridezilla turned to Mary Jo and while glaring she stated, "I'm going to get first in line even if I have to throw some elbows". The day dragged on slowly, poor Mary Jo needed a recharge and sought refuge behind a dumpster for a quick power nap. The ranger, sensing the tension in the air, casually inform the bloodthirsty participants that he would be clocking out at 10pm, at which time the attendants could form the, "official line". Just as the ranger made his way out of the office around 10pm, climbed into his white pickup truck and cast one last furtive glance at the conspicuous group of solicitors attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible, before starting his car and driving out of the park. As soon as his taillights disappeared around the bend; It. Was. On.  Full grown, educated, and normally pleasant adults devolved to a childlike state as the made an all-out dash for the ranger cabin.  Mary Jo, bridezilla, the mountain climbing couple, and the world class runner were in the lead.  Though the sprint lasted mere seconds across the small parking lot, time seemed to standstill. It was an all out war; tripping, tackling, biting, and various other means were utilized to gain ground towards the those few golden front-of-the-line positions. Bridezilla Nancy Kerrigan'd the world class runner early which slowed her down just enough for Mary Jo and the young 20-something-year-old to take the lead.  Long legs churning furiously, Mary Jo was head-to-head with this double iron-man olympic athlete. But his many years of training and stretch-armstrong-like arms paid dividends in the final legs of the race as he threw himself in a kamikaze-like manner forwards snatching victory merely nanoseconds ahead of Mary Jo who arrived for the silver place. Nearly collapsing with exhaustion and with sweat pouring from her brow Mary Jo was met by Sam who sauntered up with his lawn chair, and plopped down next to her to further stake their claim.  Sam came well prepared, he wore layers and brought stacks of sophisticated literature to past the time. I believe it was the coldest night, for that specific date, in recorded history. Mary Jo found shelter in her Prius while Sam endured the elements all night.  The following morning Sam still sitting vigilantly, shook off the frosted morning dew and stood to greet the refreshed looking ranger as he walked towards the motley crew shaking his head in knowing exasperation. Needless to say, we got our wedding date set.

2016 Annual Rafting Trip

And so we find ourselves back on the water for the 2nd annual Rafting Trip! This year's crew consists of a spectacular bunch of idealists and adventurers including; yours truly, the famous Mateo, the infamous Missy, Hannah (rhymes with banana and Mateo's better half), and Hannah #2 (rhymes with fauna), one of America's foremost authorities on clean air and green living. Unfortunately,  Delaware had a surge in sexuality 9 months ago which means Dr. Eck's services were required on the, ever so busy, Labor & Delivery floor. So instead of standing in knee high raging river she was standing in knee high amniotic, blood, and other fluids. She was sorely missed.

Our first night was every thing I had hoped. We all arrived in the dark and with superb efficiency we set up camp to the sound of gleefully screaming children in the surrounding campsites. Next, after much overdue salutations we proceeded to have our opening ceremonies which incorporated imbibing intoxicating concoctions while solving vitally important 'would you rather' issues around a crackling campfire with the sweet smoky perfume hanging in the air. With the night spent, we all cuddled up in a mansion-sized tent under a blanket of twinkling stars.

After a satisfying slumber we awoke bright and early for our rafting foray. I must admit, opening my eyes to blue skies and looming trees forming the ceiling view to our tent was mesmerizing.  We arrived at the rafting place with the gittiness of of high schoolers arriving at their first dance. Our river guides were a pack of young bearded men who looked as if the summer had began to take its toll, after repeated daily rafting trips and wrangling the Oswald's-family-type tourists who often behave like herds of cats.  We were briefed on the rules of the river and piled excitedly into pristinely yellow school buses. After a short bouncy trip with full bladders we arrived at the launch site. One by one we were corralled into our own boats.  I thought the lead guide was going to have a coronary as Hannah waded through the waters towards our boat with one fastener amiss on her life jacket. "What the hell are you doing?!" boom the Chris Farley like voice, "we are on the RIVER! This is the most dangerous part of the trip (wading through tepid water)! Fasten your.." The words trailed off as the raft he was anchoring jolted forward knocking him off his feet and sending him flailing backwards into the icy water. Trying hard not to laugh out loud we clambered into our orange vessel declaring Missy our captain. Oh, by the way, Missy in her infinite wisdom has joined our motley crew with an avulsed tendon fracture in her thumb requiring a 24 hour splint (this is her 3rd one as little-miss-action-star has destroyed her previous two).

We were titans on the water. Pure braun and power strokes pouring from the boys with decisive and cunning maneuvering from the girls.  We were unstoppable. The first few hours of the trip were filled with boisterous renditions of famous musicals while spinning backwards, forwards, and sideways over death-defying rapids. The day was warm and sunny and the water was cool and swift.  The heavy humidity was rot with smells of the surrounding forest, and our boat was filled with laugher and smiles. But that all changed...

As we rounded a corner our captain noted some jagged metal railroad pieces off to our right and had began to steer us away but we observed that some of the other, less coordinated boats, did not follow suit. We watched in horror as, not one, but two boats smashed against the unforgiving metal tearing into their hulls amidst a loud 'hiss' and an unnatural collapsing of part of the boats. Without hesitation our crew locked in and charged valiantly towards the closest distressed boat. It was filled to the brim with a very pleasant, yet terrified, Indian family. We offered our services and wild-eyed men and women stampeded into our raft. Two remained and we floated away from a jagged metal towards the opposite shore to await instructions from our guides who were flirting with girls from another rafting company. Bret, our favorite guide was the first to arrive, "are there any able-bodied rafters who would be willing to take whats left of this raft over the next few rapids?" he barked. My powerful raised hand was matched by Missy's splinted hand and before anyone could object we had climbed into the sinking boat and headed out into the rushing waters. Braving the monstrous waves, and with one of us injured we heroically conducted the injured raft through the mighty rapids despite having one of their crew with us who refused to paddle (most likely paralyzed with fear). Finally, we arrived at the midway section and stopped for food. We hobbled our semblance of a raft over towards our old boat and preceded to make formal introductions with the Indian family who were all courteous and doctors. We traded PB&J sandwiches for spectacular Indian cuisine that tasted of generations of family recipes culminating into a gustatory explosion of sweet spicy splendor. This food alone made the whole ordeal more than worth any extra inconvenience. Hannah#2 was learning Hindi phrases and asking, "how do you say 'refund' in Hindi." Much to our chagrin, one of the elderly women comically responded, "there is no such work in India, any exchange is followed by 'thank you come again'" she recited in her heaviest Indian accent.

Our guides shuffled the boats around leaving ours intact and deflated the damaged vessels. The remainder of the rafting trip was a game of how ridiculous we could approach rapids.  The annual tradition of someone falling out of the raft was maintained by Missy as we struck a boulder head on and she went sailing out the back. Exhausted and smiling we hauled our raft out of the water at the end of the trip and boarded he buses home. That night we ate, drank, Spaded, and watched blue fire as we continued to solve riddles and brain teasers alike. As with all aging professionals we crashed exhausted at ~10pm.

Our final glorious day was equally action packed as we decided to hike towards a seemingly accessible waterfall. After an interesting dining experience with the locals we set out, Tomb-Raider-style. The Hannahs had done some pre-emptive research by reading a blog, which described a much more adventurous route towards these mystic waterfalls.  The day continued to be warm and sunny and tourists were milling around various trailheads with an air of happy-to-be-alive wafting through the valley. We approached an ostensibly recognizable path, however less traveled, and began our epic journey towards these mysterious waterfalls. The once vary plausible trail began to whither and wane into a discernible nothingness. Soon we were scrambling over boulders the size of houses, edging around perilous cliff faces, bush whacking through thick brush filled with monstrously enormous spiders. Hours into our hike, maybe days, we continue to beguile ourselves at every turn believing that a broken branch or some uncovered moss meant a path towards glory. It wasn't until Hannah#2 after careful deliberation with Hannah and their phones discovered that there were NO trails on our side of the stream and that we had been aimlessly charging through mountainous terrain like our courageous ancestors before us. Just as we were all about to turn around the forest gave way to the precipice of our coveted waterfall.  Tired, worn, disheveled, and incredibly badass we emerged from the Pennsylvania jungle triumphantly.  Standing at the waterfalls edge staring out across the valley made the entire ordeal worth it.

What a weekend...