The Universe provides stuff.

After avoiding a campsite scuffle with two large Hispanic men and their bikini'd ladyfolk, we staked claim to site #15 in Willow Placer along the Merced River. An hour or two of sitting in the warm trunk later, the Deschutes Red Chair was still downright tasty. I built myself some cairns to mark the occasion before we set off on an easy 7-mile hike up to the North Fork of the Merced from Ralroad Flats.

And of course, after many attempts to go hiking while wildflowers are abloomin', we finally stumble upon natural bounty when we least expected it. We're about five miles in when we realize that there's entirely too much color in the foilage, so oh fuck, we're surrounded by purple and yellow wildflowers. No idea what the freaky alien flower above is, except I'm pretty sure it eats babies with those wild tentacles.

In addition to poison oak encroaching from every side, rattlesnacks made a few cameo appearances. This one watched us for a few minutes before slouching off into the shade. I kept thinking about the ranger's warning of some girl needing fourteen antivenom injections, but no two-holed bites this time around. After the sun set in the valley, we had an easy evening of eating roast chicken in the dark, carving up mangos, and nerding out on language talk while staring into the campfire. Not a shabby way to spend a Saturday!

We pack up camp at 7 am on Sunday morning to eat hummus by the roadside while waiting for our whitewater raft guides to show up. It's funny that the rafter/kayak crew are essentially the same people who are also climbers, as in all the names for the rapids could have easily been boulder routes (Balls to the Wall, Son of Ned, etc.). Just an entirely different life, where you're rafting for six months of the year, snowmobiling for four, and then climbing in Utah between seasons.

For warmth, I was given the most attractive green and white Christmas cardigan to wear over my wet suit. I now wish I had taken a picture of this monstrosity.

I loved that we started off the 17-miles with an immediate Class IV challenge called Cranberry Hole. We had just practiced going forward and backward, left and right, and then we were in the middle of a massive sluice of water. A decent confidence booster, and then the rest of it just passed by in a surreal jumble. It definitely all went by smoothly thanks to the excellent river guides. A highlight was our attempt to surf Gauge Hole. Four of us opted to try it, and as soon as the boat slipped into the watery chaos, all I can remember is hanging almost vertically from a toe hook before thinking, "fuck it," and falling into an underwater churn downriver. The two best rapids came at the end, with Split Rock blocking up the middle of the river and then Corner Pocket sucking up the current into a boat-eating maw.

Wetsuits are amazing by the way, and I don't know why I never had one for windsurfing.

I took a break from feeding my face to get in this picture. All-you-can-eat sushi is fast becoming a post-camping tradition, and I don't think people mind this deviation from the In-n-Out sprees. After reenacting the suburban childhoods in Modesto none of us ever had, we stumbled out of the parking lot into Kobe Sushi Buffet, where everyone speaks Mandarin and the 回転寿司 boats seemed to stall out every few minutes. We essentially said yes to everything that was offered, and I believe we ordered every special roll on the menu at least once. Keep the sashimi combos coming, because I can and will eat my weight in salmon.

We'd been trying to kill Chris all weekend. After his food poisoning, we ordered a mountain of wats and injera at Addis, dragged him on a hike, rafted a river, and then this sushi travesty. Two more challenges and it will be time to prepare for the Boss Fight.

Basically how we all felt headed back into a Monday