Boater Boombox

A blissful mid-summer day at the lake

Our favorite summer activity is joining friends for a day at the local popular 6-mile long lake where we invite several of our close friends' families. Hot August baking sunny weather days perfect for relaxing along the graveled shoreline, with a host of endless foods to nibble on, numerous deck chairs in a great oval circle facing the lake, and various water toys to entertain the kids and young adults. 

It was late morning at about 11AM; we had been ensconced along the shore since 9AM; the temperature was rising fast, our ladies were merrily socializing aplenty, the kids were testing newly purchased water toys, and a few of our young men were out on a unique gas-powered mini stand-up single user wave runner shaped like a mere squat short surfboard.

After a few sessions of entertainment, everyone calmed down; several of the young ladies grabbed a paddleboard and not being interested in paddling, rather spread their delicate bikini-clad flesh out on the paddleboard to soak up the baking mid-day sunrays with nary a concern on their mind.

The parking area is getting nearly all filled up by now, and the overflow at the far end of the county park was also being rapidly consumed, yet additional pickup trucks hauling a power boat are still arriving, determined to put their monster speed boat in the lake waters too. No problem; there's plenty of lake for that.

Yet after ONE power boater got his boat into the lake waters, vehicle parked in the overflow zone, he then proceeded to slowly steer his boat into the vast blue waters, but opted to follow close in along the shoreline, hugging it just a hundred yards offshore. He was alone this day, for apparently none of this friends wanted to join him on his mega power speed boat.

"Hmm, that seems odd", I silently pondered why. "Power boater going it alone; has he got no friends who wanted to join him today for a lake cruise?"

In the next moment we go the answer to that question. He turned on his multi-speaker stereo boombox, initially fairly low in a modest sort of way while fiddling with a radio station, then giving up and stuffing a favorite CD into the stereo player. 

"Ahhh", he must have thought to himself, "Found my favorite tunes."

And that is when he cranked the volume up into the sky....

Suddenly our entire three family group of friends who were merrily chatting up a jovial session right there along that sand and gravel shoreline, enjoying the baking hot summer sunshine, lounging in deck chairs, stuffing our faces with snacks, sipping on thin glasses of wine or other beverage, knowing and experiencing the grandeur of it all in the most perfect way....

Then, all the friendly shoreline happy communicative chitchat ceased — just as the power boater who was slowly puttering his speed boat along near the shoreline, he changed his TUNE, and he decided that it was time to hammer his multi-speaker stereo system volume way up into the cloudless blue sky.

Yep, he wanted everyone to know about it....

No one in our entire troupe could hear themselves chatting with their friends; you couldn't even hear yourself thinking to yourself; you couldn't hear the kiddos playing along the shoreline. You couldn't hear the birds singing nearby in the trees. 

The only sound that you could hear from right here on the lake, and all the way to Thailand and back again, was that power boaters hammering noisy tunes coming from his full-deck multi-speaker stereo system.

Dangbeschniztle we never knew what hit us. Everyone — and I do mean everybody — of our dozen plus friends who were there at the lake that gorgeous blazing hot mid-summer's day, simply stopped doing whatever it was that they were doing (i.e. chatting and socializing, eating and drinking, or playing), and for the next several minutes did utterly NOTHING but sat there and stared silently out across that shoreline lake as the music inclined power boater sole guy doing his sole lone thing, slowly puttered his noise-box machine and boat right smack past our lake-front seating area.

He apparently wanted everyone at the lake to KNOW that he was now here, and yep, we certainly did know it!

Just as he got past our zone, he pushed down on the boat's throttle and the power boat took off like a bolt of lightning heading eastward across the lake, stereo volume still blazing to the uttermost reaches of the blue sky above, but quickly the deafening tone of the music noise rapidly faded, and once again we could actually hear ourselves thinking to ourselves.

Ahh, there's that most beautiful and pleasant creaturely sound once again — the ladies in our group have started chatting again with each other about whatever fresh new topic is on their sweet little minds. And life continues on at our mid-summer lake family gathering.

When gettin' older is gettin'

For evening leisure activity, and for its apparent health benefits, I often take a stroll round-a-bout my favorite smallsville hometown, enroute during the walk I will often strike up a brief chat with various town neighbors along the way, admiring their front yard floral or herb gardening skills that are on display, smartly skipping the politics, keeping it all smiles and courtesy, going for 1-to-2, and sometimes 3 miles town walk.

Enroute I pass through one of the town parks (there are a nice handful of these in town) and on a sunny warm day, it makes logical sense to stop there and sit upon one of the still available park benches (these are popular little town parks especially so in the evening hours when the parents bring their little kiddos over to the playground).

I spy and open unattended bench and sit down. Hours of tedious earlier work hunched over the computer has given me a slight kink in the back, so the hard wood backed bench is not as comfy as it should be, so I opt to swing my legs around the far end of the bench and lay down backside upon the hard wood bench.

Ahh...now my back is feeling the release of the kinks...it just needed a straight plain board to knocks those old age kinks out of the hunched twisted back.

I don't think even a half minute elapsed when I overheard one of the four young children climbing all over the playground equipment.

One of them said from a far distance, obviously aimed at me:

"Hey old man laying on the bench...what ya doin'?"

The young 12-year old kid wasn't trying to 'ask' a 'real' question so much as he thought that the concept of me taking a break upon a wood bench laying down was somehow noteworthy, and especially my age.

But hey, I got the message...he was being a pest. Yep, my time was up from that momentary rest break, so I stood up and departed, homeward bound.

Perhaps that's what they meant by the phrase, "When you're gettin' old...."

It isn't YOU personally notices the age transition sneaking up on yourself so much as it's the younger generation that so plainly does.

Going local bouldering

When most boulderers think in terms of going bouldering they pile into the vehicle and drive somewhere near their home town, then park alongside a road at a pullout, or public parking area, and walk along a trail or path to reach a pile of boulders, whereupon the commence to toss down a hefty brightly colorized crashpad on the ground beneath their next 'project'.

But that's most other boulders for you.

For me though, walking shoes, a winter coat, short knee length short pants (this is a must...no matter how cold it is because pant legs get in the way!), grab a bottle of water, tuck it into my mini fanny pack, and a snappy departure from home, taking either a left or a right route, and briskly march along the town paved sidewalks, going out for a long daily "walkabout" in this neighborly and quaint smalls-ville town.

En route along that multi-mile walkabout march I do make it a habit to stop at any one of a half dozen small town playground areas to check out the bouldering potential. I know, I know...you're thinking to yourself...that ain't bouldering. But I do digress on this fine point.

There are the little town playground one may encounter the usual small kids playing on the playground equipment (various slides, steps, platforms, monkey bars, roped arenas, mini-bouldering wall, mini-tunnels, etc), and yep you sure can see and hear by all the smiles and noisy chatter that the kiddies are all having a blast. And the parent (usually its Mom)...well she is standing there nearby enjoying a relaxed moment, chattering with 1-2 other Mom's who are also there releasing all that pent up energy so very much bound up tight in those little 4 year-old  kiddies that ain't any taller than my waistline.

It's there, among all that friendly noise, that I pick a spot to sit down on the ground, remove my overcoat, plop my fanny pack and water on the ground, untie my tennis shoes, slip out of my socks, stand up, and slowly gravitate over to the starting point.

Yep, the key here (point #1) is BAREFOOT. Ya don't wanna be doing this stuff with shoes on...you can die doing it with shoes on...I should know after attempting it the first two times. Shoes are simply too clunky for this game. And while we're on the topic of "barefoot bouldering" you don't really want to spend time flying off (like you might do when you are out at the real live bouldering area and that big fat orange crashpad is awaiting to catch your feet). Because here at the small town playground area — the ground is indeed soft, and spongy-like, but....its usually composed of bark or sawdust chips, and sometimes big chips. So, if you hit the ground too hard you will certain find a splinter in your sole (key point #2).

Each play area has its own natural starting point for bouldering, and it does take some analysis to find it. This particular one begins at the vertical ropes ( a series of horizontal and vertical tied ropes). I step aboard (yep, it's kinda like getting on a moving Mississippi River paddle-wheel riverboat), and cruise easily along the roped section, then along the mini-vertical bouldering wall, to the rest spot on the outer start of the first monkey bar set. Here we get some stretching in because we are gonna need it soon enough.

Then I lean into the overhang, full body hanging from the slick metal monkey bars of set #1, and slowly cruise upside down, full body hanging along the first set of bars to the far end, then at the last rung, I flip my feet up into the previous bar, until my knees are fully enclosed on that bar, and let go with a woooosh — with hands off that last bar — I swing with a momentary rush fully upside down, like a gymnastics person, and continue to swing fully upside down, back and forth for a series of times, enough to get that blood a pounding in my head, and enough to chill down the fore arms (well not really...).

Then on the last swing, aim for the high bar directly above, muscle it with hands, foot out left on the vertical slick pole, other foot out right on the other slick pole (now bear in mind that this is typical very wide Beacon Rock style stemming!), and gingerly reach over to that far slick metal pole and smartly grab the second monkey bar set, and cut the feet loose, swinging your feet up into the awaiting first two horizontal bars and wrap your legs over it quickly, pull a swift, stylish reversal, all the while hanging totally upside down, then cruise in upside down mode all the way across monkey bar set number two. When you reach the far end of that set, do a very stylish reversal, and cruise the same monkey bar set for 3-4 loop sessions in a row, then at the farthest end of that monkey bar you can finally stop and take a brief break. No, no, no, not by putting your feet on the ground (that means you failed to send the route dude!). You hang there on the metal bars and chill briefly, or if you are not pumped (and technically you should not be here yet!), then you make another very very long stem out with your barefoot to stick it onto another far out there vertical slick metal pole, wrap your hands around it, both feet on it and on a nearby metal vertical bar, then lower yourself into another upside down position, and cruise along a single metal horizontal metal bar across to the far final end flat kiddie landing platform. Then cruise underneath that platform to the far end, grab the vertical metal ladder at that far end, stand up on it...then crawl back under the platform and cruise another horizontal bar hanging upside down, and pull a quick reverse, aim your toe for the center point of the farthest platform, touch it...and done.

That is tour number one. Though each small town kiddie playground offers its own unique set of tours, this particular play area has a total of four quality power lines, yielding measurable technicalities upwards in the V3-V4 range, depending on your skill level (i.e. again reminding you that you get instantly disqualified if you do it with shoes on).

Do note that playing this whole game of town park metal bar bouldering — the weather must not be too cold for obvious reasons! Point number one, your hands and feet will never survive the super cold metal bars. And point number two...if its really cold during the day (in winter), such as 45F, then bouldering is much more difficult on slick metal poles (you need the foot stickiness that occurs on the soles of the feet upon the vertical slick metal poles for viable traction).

After doing a half dozen session you will get the hang of it, and playground bouldering suddenly becomes an exercise friendly, neighborhood walkabout, smile-at-your-neighbor non-motorized virtual necessity.

 

A quarter twain?

A quarter twain...Huh? 

""That night we had the watch until twelve. Now it was an ancient river custom for the two pilots to chat a bit when the watch changed. While the relieving pilot put on his gloves and lit his cigar, his partner, the retiring pilot, would say something like this:

"I judge the upper bar is making down a little at Hale Point; had a quarter twain with the lower lead and mark twain with the other."

"Yes, I thought it was making down a little, last trip. Meet any boats?"

"Met one abreast the head of 21, but she was away over hugging the bar, and I couldn't make her out entirely. I took her for the Sunny South - hadn't any skylights forward of he chimneys."

And so on...""

Quote from the book "Life on the Mississippi" by Mark Twain

Note: A quarter twain is 2 1/4 fathoms (13 1/2 feet). And mark twain is 2 fathoms. And mark three is 3 fathoms. 

Note: the discussion is between two pilots aboard a large paddle wheel steamboat in the 1850s-1860s.