At 5 minutes after 6:00AM, my alarm rings nearly giving me a heart attack. I get up to get ready for the camping trip extravaganza, look out the window, and it’s raining. Now this of course is what I had come to expect from dear old England, however, on the morning of a trip where you will spend all day rowing a boat and then sleeping in a tent, you can’t help but hope for a little bit of sunshine. Mandy and I got in the car with Huw’s sister, Lucy and her boyfriend, James and we were off like a heard of turtles. If you’ve never heard this expression, I’m sure you’ll understand that we were moving, but not moving fast. After stopping multiple times to gather more group members, there were 18 of us in total, and then stopping at McDonald’s to feed everyone, oh and then getting lost in the Welsh countryside (I blame it on Sue, Lucy’s navigation system), we finally managed to get to our campsite in Whitney-on-Wye. It was tents up quickly and then off to pick up our boats as we were only about 2 and a half hours behind schedule.
The night before, Mandy had told me that I would be sharing a boat with their friend Joe. Had it been a leisurely canoe trip I’m sure Mandy and I could have handled it ourselves but upon discovering that the first day would be 10 miles and the second day, 13, we both thought it best that we had a man on board with bigger arm muscles. Generally, I’m all up for this “I am woman, here me roar” thing but lets not kid ourselves, my arm muscles are fairly non-existent (as I’m sure Joe can now attest to) and I assure you, Mandy and I would have spun that thing in circles for 2 days and gotten absolutely nowhere. Now I have to tell you, I was a bit nervous about this boat sharing thing with a stranger. I mean if we’re being honest it’s basically like a blind date on a boat where you can’t really escape it unless you choose to abandon ship, float in freezing water and bump along the rocks down the river. The idea of that was clearly not appealing so I just had to hope for the best.
I had seen Joe from the car window but it wasn’t until he walked up to me in the rental place, blue plaid shirt topped with a khaki fur lined coat, unseasonable board shorts adorned with Hawaiian flowers, and to really knock it home, dark green rain boots (or wellies as they call them) with yellow socks sticking out the top that I knew this was going to be a match made in ridiculously clothed heaven. As I stood there in my light blue V-neck, green lululemon jacket, gray zip up hoodie, coral-colored anorak, black leggings, orange tube socks, and a white and orange winter hat with ear flaps and an orange ball on top, I couldn’t help but think this was absolutely a man after my own heart and we were about to fashionably attack the River Wye like it had never seen. Best dressed boat in my opinion, no question. Now that the suspense I’m sure has just about killed you, I did not have to abandon ship and float down the river freezing and alone of my own will. However, Joe nearly managed to send me to that water-logged fate a few times while practicing his Venetian gondolier skills and then sitting back down a bit too quickly and rather ungracefully. I tried to warn him about the damp grumpiness that threatened his future but I tell you, that did not deter him. Luckily for my canoe companion, due to my cat like reflexes and superb balance, we stayed afloat. Is that about accurate, Joe?
Sidenote: I’m currently sitting on a bus from Bristol back to London where I will be staying with my friend Stephen for a few days and I am cooking on this thing like I’ve just taken up residence in an Easy Bake Oven, painfully slowly. It is a constant medium heat that has only just now started to make me boil and I have about 30 minutes left. If I pass out and die before I get this posted, will someone please do it for me, as the story of the now legendary best-dressed canoe team MUST make it’s way to internet daylight. Thank you.
2 hours in and it was finally time to take a much needed rest. We docked our canoes at a little town called Hay-On-Wye and wandered into town to find some lunch and get beers….because obviously what goes better with canoes than beers. The two are practically synonymous. As I’m standing in a fish and chips shop in my aforementioned ensemble which by this time also included a stylish red life vest, guess who walks in…no really, you aren’t going to guess….
Rob Lowe.
What in the shit!? Who runs into the older man of their dreams at a fish and chips shop in a tiny town in Wales of all places. Of course I freaked out and stared and of course none of my other canoeing compatriots understood the gravity of this situation. I mean, it’s Rob Lowe. I LOVE him. Jacki and I spent countless Sunday evenings watching him on BROTHERS AND SISTERS and fantasizing about him as our hot Congressman husband. This was a serious situation. Somehow, though I was clearly looking wildly attractive, I’m sorry to report that he did not immediately spot me and then decide to leave his wife of 20 years to marry yours truly. Eh, his loss right? You missed your chance Rob! (He’ll clearly spend the rest of his life in regret.) That definitely goes down as the most random celebrity encounter of my lifetime. Just a shame Rob didn’t get to ride shotgun with Joe and I in our classy aquatic ride. I have no doubts he would have thoroughly enjoyed it.
After my brush with destiny, we boarded our canoes and paddled the rest of the way back to our campsite. Following showers and some moderate drinking, we all sat down to dinner together. I’d like to take this point in the blog to discuss something very politically incorrect that occurred during this meal. It was a menu item. An item I even have a hard time typing… homemade, delicious faggots. I would not make this up. Not only was it an option but one of our group members ordered it and the waitress comes over to the table shouting FAGGOTS! Who had the FAGGOTS?! I suppose I’m sensitized by living in America but I sat there absolutely horrified, mouth agape while no one else seemed to even bat an eyelash at this. I can’t even imagine the to-do that would cause in The States, the land of all things politically correct. I will say that in England they are actually a food item, little sausages or something, but I just couldn’t help thinking how poorly that one would go over elsewhere.
That night as I settled into my tent next to Mandy, all snuggled in my sleeping bag listening to multi-talented Joe play the guitar and sing us to sleep, I noticed that amidst the darkness, I was wearing the biggest smile. No one could see it, but I could feel it. After a day of new friends, amazing landscapes, and some much needed one on one time with the outdoors, my heart was happy. I was at peace.
Except for the occasional shenanigan, Joe turned out to be the perfect blind boat date. He was personable, inquisitive, had spent time in the States for commonality sake, and most importantly he was open to me. Though I’m sure he’d have much rather spent his weekend with friends, actually in a boat with one of his friends, he never showed it. I’m grateful for that. I can safely say though that next time he and I share a canoe together, I will in fact, fall under that category. Joe, if you’re listening, I feel so lucky to have crossed your path, or river as it were, and one last time from the bottom of my joy-filled heart, I thank you.
And NowEuropeToDate...
(You'll notice an absence of pictures in the post because the boys kept flipping their canoes and I was too scared to have my camera in ours. Thus, very little photographic evidence. Lucy has pictures though and once I get them you will get a better visual of this trip.)
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