Five good humored friends joined in to float over 90 miles of the Wild and Scenic Grand Ronde River in NE Oregon. We were complete with a compliment of three river boats and gear. After about 15 miles of shallow water rock dodging we arrived at camp; a nice forested bar with a sweet view.
Peering down into the depths of my voluminous dry bag I searched for a pair of socks and pants to help keep warm in the dusky hours. At home I distinctly recalled setting out four pair to ensure that my size 14 feet stayed warm and dry on the five day trip. At first, I rummaged and then evacuated all of my dry bag contents onto the ground. It didn’t take long to realize the socks hadn’t made it into the dry bag at all. Sheepishly, I sauntered back to the kitchen area where the rest of crew was hanging out, drinking beer and cooking dinner. Asking them to play the guessing game of “what did Jon forget,” the crew offered up more than three guesses ranging from unmentionables to cocktail mixers.
Finally, I kill the suspense revealing that I had no socks and that they were back home sitting out on the family room floor enjoying a nice vacation from the inside of my dresser drawer. After some surprisingly modest heckling and a debate about who’s socks would fit my giant ass feet, BJ got up from his camp chair and fetched me up the nicest pair of Filson wool socks I’d ever seen. I thought I saw a bit of sadness in his face because those Filson socks were sweet, warm and nearly knee high.
With some thespian style reluctance, I agreed to take the socks stating “I’ll only use them if I have to.”
Bull honky! I went back to my tent, threw on pants and those tall Filson socks.
My feet were so warm and happy that the effect crawled from my feet to my brain as fast as my neural synapses could handle it. River friends cover your ass when you forget your socks. Thanks BJ!