Yesterday the first-annual "Robe Canyon Race", the best non-event I've been to in years, came off without a hitch.  This was the brainchild of the good folks at The Range Life (or at least, Todd) and it had all the fun of a river race and none of the BS that tends to swirl around official events.  As someone who's organized my share of river events, I've got nothing but props for how this one came off- full-on guerilla style, under the radar, minimum impact, no trace left after, and a good time was had by all.  A horde of paddlers descended on the location, safety and timers went out and set things up, the racers ran, and we all swept down the river and met up after for food and drinks.  This was paddlers paddling for fun and doing it in a well-organized, coordinated way.  This was what so many competitions strive to be, but few actually accomplish.

 

Robe Canyon is a class V stretch of the South Fork of the Stilliguamish river, near Granite Falls, WA, and in it's current incarnation is a local favorite.  Every couple of years or so, floods do a remodel on the place- this last time turning it from a nasty mank-fest into a pretty sweet run again. 

The relatively low flow on race-day was a mixed blessing- a bit lower than some would have liked, but from my perspective (leading a crew of guys who hadn't paddled the river before) it was pretty nice to have those extra eddies and a little bit of slack water.  It also made for some nice green water (at higher flows, clay banks upstream give Robe a chocolate-milk color) so the pictures turned out nice.

 

The instigator, at the scene of the crime.

 

I didn't particularly want to race, but I wanted to paddle- so what else was there to do?  I ran a crew of Oregon boys halfway down the river to Leap of Faith, where we set safety that nobody needed.  The weather couldn't have been better.  We're used to running this in the gray of winter.  Today felt like... well, springtime. 

From my vantage point at Leap of Faith, I managed to catch a couple of nice bright shots.  Check the gallery for more, or go here for a ton of them.

 

The after-scene, at Omega in Granite Falls.  Good pizza joint for after-paddling.  The crowd was all abuzz. 

The US debt, long out of control, is concerning me more and more.  It's played a part in cutting the value of the dollar in half in the last few years, it's predicted to contribute to a budget crisis as the boomers retire, it's becoming a heavier day-to-day expense, it's been repeatedly cited as a factor in making credit markets panicky, and yet it's not something our politicians are talking about.  Why not?  And why aren't we all hopping up and down pissed off about it?

 

I understand that money today is backed by debt, and that the money supply must be expandable to keep the economy liquid.  This can be done by banks lending to anyone.  It doesn't require us to have a government paying trillions of dollars in interest to bond-holders in Japan and China, does it?  No, it doesn't. 

 

Over the course of the last 6 months of hand-wringing about how we're headed for a 'slowdown', all of the news seems to have focused on the way the fed can deal with the results of the current crisis, but remarkably, we haven't heard ANYBODY talking about dealing with the root causes of the issue.   Even those that are yelling about the budget are yelling about symptoms- as with this piece, and this one, which decry the unorthodox methods our congress employs to get around regular budgetory constraints like 'not having the money'.  In other words, we don't seem to care about the debt- or we care about it only inasmuch as it impacts what we can buy today.  And until we figure out that what we can buy today is limited by those debt servicing costs, we'll continue to have less buying power today than we're paying for.

 

We see this pheonomenon every day on an individual scale, in the form of individuals with credit cards- the limit to their spending is not thier income or their wealth, it is the limit of their credit.  Individuals like this typically end up with wrecked credit, which corrects the problem (in a way that's very unpleasant for pretty much everyone involved).  Now consider the difference between the federal government and an individual: the former has the authority to tax others and make it stick with the force of law.  It has, in brief, the right to force our kids to pay the bill it's run up on our (and our parents') behalf.  That's the only real difference.  There's no magic aura of invincibility, despite how we act.  It seems apropos that my quote of the day was this, from P.J. O'Rourke:

My question for each of the candidates this fall will be: "What are you doing to bring down the debt and control spending?"  And it's my question for you, too.

 

 

 

Some things speak for themselves, others require translation.  The smile below requires none.

Liam, finally diggin' the beach.

My own experience of Mexico, from which we just returned, is a bit nuanced, and loses much in translation.  Yes, the scenery was beautiful (do check out the accompanying photo album- it's gorgeous), the food was tasty, and the people were warm and generous- but (and to be fair, this is just my observation of a single spot) I pretty much hated it.  And I've figured out why:  I had unrealistic expectations of the place.

We stayed at a beautiful place.  We had with us a buddy who grew up there (literally, in the town where we stayed) as a kid, who promised it would be awesome.  And it was, for the first couple days.  Then stuff started going badly.  I (and 3 others in our group) got food poisoning- and six days later, I'm still nauseous pretty much most of the time.  There's nothing in the world that turns me into a great big whining sissy faster than acute nausea- unless, of course, it's the nice all-over body aches you get from profound dehydration and food poisoning.  What's that you say?  I should've stayed somewhere nicer, and eaten safer food?  ehhhmmm.  We did.  We paid quite handsomely for our food and accommodations.  Drank bottled water.  Stayed at the expensive resort, with the expectation that this would make a difference.  It didn't.

The place looked beautiful, but under the surface was... well, "rustic".  Under the lacquer, doors had great hollow voids in them- untreated wood being eaten from within by whatever does that.  Faucets and shower worked when they wanted to.  The hot water wasn't reliably hot.  Screens and doors had holes, and mosquitoes feasted on our blood every night- I can only hope that some of them died in agony from whatever poison I had in my system from the food.  To be clear, if you're expecting rustic, all of these things might just add to the charm- unfortunately, my expectations were a bit out of line.

The surf had disturbing brown foam in it.  Perhaps not coincidentally, I promptly contracted a nice sinus infection (which I still have).  Liam ran a 102-degree fever for over 48 hours, causing us to exhaust our supply of children's tylenol regulating it.  He also had a hacking cough the entire trip.  Caring for your feverish infant while nauseous yourself... not priceless.  WTF, precisely, were we paying for?  In a nutshell, the whole experience was cheerfully delivered by the nicest people you could ever hope to meet, who were honestly doing great with what they had to work with.  The problem: what they had to work with was... well, in Mexico.  And in Mexico, nothing is as promised- it is what it is, on it's own terms.  Things happen in their own time, and you take what you get- and if you thought it was something else, that's not their problem.  In short, nothing was anybody's problem- which is a pity, because really, when nothing is anyone's problem, it becomes everyone's.

It makes sense: the locals don't need no steenkin' protection from the water, they're used to it.  Arrogant Yankees who expect them to conform to their standards deserve what they get, and if they don't like it, they should go home.  After, of course, spending their money.  Which we did.  The prices we paid turned out to be not much of a bargain- and rendered the surprise taxes and fees infuriating.  Liam, who flew as a lap-child, incurred us a $130 USD "surprise" tax, levied not up front when we purchased our tickets, but instead in the airport as we checked in for our return flight.  Likewise, when we returned the rental car, we discovered that somehow, the price my buddy said he negotiated turned out to be nowhere near the price that ended up written on the contract.  Turns out there's a bonus 10% city and 15% state tax, and whatever they said about declining the insurance during price negotiations, the insurance is compulsory.  This tacked a bonus $310 USD on top of the $550 I had expected to pay.  And the exchange rate they quoted on the spot (since they charged in pesos, despite quoting in dollars) inflated that grand total by an extra 9% or so above the prevailing rate- so you can see how I'm not especially stoked about ever doing business with those particular swine again.

What makes this especially poignant, and frustrating, is the unbelievable potential of the place.  It really is gorgeous, the people are warm, and so much is truly exceptional.  Our friend's wedding... scheduled for 4, the flowers arrived at 5, but were unbelievable.  Likewise, the cake: delivered late, but beyond good.  At meals, we'd be surprised to discover that one of the resort staff is also a concert-caliber pianist.  The next night, piano and opera- sung by a sweet octogenarian (who, to my ear, would not be out of place in a concert hall) who came by periodically and performed for tips.  Turns out the owner of the retreat center is also a medical doctor with a special penchant for making small children laugh.  The place is teeming with fantastic, talented, erudite people that make things work.

I may go back to Mexico. I'm for sure not going to do it with the expectation that it's a bargain destination- it isn't.  The place is gorgeous, stinky, rotten, larcenous, and full of the nicest, sweetest people you could ever hope to meet- just watch your wallet.  Part of what keeps them amused, I think, is charging you tourist prices.  

They have fish tacos to shame the rest of the world handily- and, of course, they invented Tequila, and therefore have my undying admiration.  I suppose my bottom line is that they do have one thing down in spades, that almost made everything worth it: they do know how to relax and have fun.

Jason Whitlock calls this one spot-on.  Insightful read on the oft-confusing politics of race.