PBW: Tubing

Photo Blog Wednesday(Classic)



No, the subject of tonight's post is not the back of my friend Rob's head, but rather that alliterative sign to his right. All the vacation talk lately had me thinking of some of my other aquatic adventures, and while I did take some digital photos on Sunday, I wasn't happy with the results. Going to the roof of a local parking garage at sunset SEEMED like a good idea at the time, but when I got home I found a lot of the shots to be too dark or simply not interesting. Maybe I'll show them another day, or maybe I'll go back for a reshoot and test my luck at keeping both my camera and myself from going over the edge. A post about my luck and wind currents would be interesting, but difficult to execute in a full body cast. So instead, I'm revisiting some classic photos taken with my trusty old 35mm camera.

When I was a kid, I loved my inner tube. I sink even in salt water, but that tube let me go to the beach and let the waves take me a little further out than I would venture alone. It was an unsinkable friend. When I was older, one of my neighborhood friends had a buddy with his own speed boat, and he took us out in the Long Island Sound. Strapped into a life jacket, I held on to an inner tube for dear life as they towed me out into the deep waters. I know nautical speed is measured in knots, but for the sake of readers as sea-savvy as myself, I'll describe his speed as anywhere between 40MPH and 60MPH. When the boat would turn, it would leave waves in its wake, and hitting those was like hitting speed bumps that sent me airborne for short periods of time. It was amazing. The only bad part about it was that eventually, I couldn't maintain my grip and I'd be sent flying. At high speeds like that, water seems SOLID so the impact wasn't fun. I'd also plunge into darkness for a minute or so before my lifejacket brought me to the surface. Then I'd just float there and wait for them to come and pick me up for another round. I only went tubing with them once or twice more, but it was one of my better Summers.

One Summer in college my friends suggested going tubing somewhere in upstate New York. Floating down a river in the wild sounded better than floating around Splish Splash, and slightly less painful than hanging on while a motor boat towed me. When we arrived, I took some shots of the river and the rental place from the road, before returning my camera to the dry safety of the car. The water seemed to be moving faster than expected, and it was explained to us that some of the frozen peaks of the mountains had thawed after a recent rainstorm, and there were more rapids than usual. Once we were on what was supposed to be the “novice” branch of the river, things seemed tame until we hit the first batch of rapids. When Rob and the others disappeared in a blur of rocks and white foam, screams piercing the silence of the woods, fear gripped me. I managed to get past the rough spot they had passed over without much drama, and kept my bare feet elevated so as not to cut them on the rocks. As the day went on the river widened, and we learned to steer the tubes away from some of the more turbulent areas. Eventually, we made it to our destination, where a small flatbed train would take us back along the river to the parking lot. The day was hot but we were soaking wet, and that was the single coldest train ride I've ever embarked upon. Enjoy these classic photos of that day a decade ago, when I was younger, more foolish, and having the time of my life.