A PADDLE WITH ST. NICHOLAS

We have all heard The Night Before Christmas about Santa and his sleigh.  But did you know there's other about him the paddling river on Christmas Eve day? Today I will tell the tale that's way past its due. It's about the time I met Santa in a canoe. 

'Twas the day before Christmas and all across the waterway,
The water looked splendid I'd just have to say
Not a breath of wind even stirred the air,
And how the stream glistened so bright and so fair

The ducks and geese floated about without a care,
While the otters and beavers swam both here and there
The deer all were nestled deep among the tall trees,
While I waded my boat out, just below my knees.

I slid into my kayak and snapped on my spray skirt,
Picked up my paddle and pushed away from the dirt
Just downstream, I could hear the rapid's rumble and chatter,
During the summer, it's always a fun place to gather

I paddled down to the top of the flume,
Catching the eddy above with plenty of room
The bubbling whitewater poured over the stone,
Swirling and churning in frenetic foam.

When looking upriver should what did I see?
But another boater who was following me
He had a great stroke it was lively and so quick,
I couldn't believe it, I was paddling with St. Nick

Now he wasn't in a playboat, you see, he needed lots of room,
Not a sea kayak either, too small for him I can only assume
He paddled a big boat as comfortable as an old shoe,
Yes, yes, Santa was in a canoe

It was bright red as the color of his sleigh,
Dancing over the ripples without delay
With a wreath at the bow and streaming with tinsel,
It was quick, I will tell you, like the down of a thistle

In the fast current, he lined up his route,
Past the rocks, he angled toward the chute
He moved his craft forward with a powerful sweep,
Over the first wave, that looked pretty steep
The bow of his canoe arose in mid-air,
As the spray and the splashes flew everywhere

He was heading toward the ledge, it would be a big drop,
Downstream with the current, he went over the top
I was out my boat on the shore at this time you see,
Trying to get a selfie of Santa and me
I raised up my camera, you see I needed some proof,
As Santa and canoe came down with a boof

As I looked over the water it seemed like a dream,
Santa had turned and was now surfing upstream
Dressed in a PFD and bright red dry suit from head to toe,
As he bounced up and down in the waves, both to and fro
His cheeks were rosy, his beard as white as sea foam,
Donning a red cap and sunglasses, he was one cool gnome
His laugh shook the canyon and it echoed below,
Yes, you all know it, it was ho ho ho!

He ferried his canoe out of the current and into the eddy,
Then waved to me to follow as soon as I was ready
I jumped back in my boat to join the fun
I couldn't believe it; I was joining Santa on a river run

He peeled out quickly heading downriver,
He was in a hurry you see; he had toys to deliver
His mechanics were precise, his stroke was the truest,
I've seen lots of paddlers, but there was no better canoeist

I stay up close, for a while side by side,
But he quickly outran me, I have to confide
He needed to get back to the North Pole and the reindeer
The elves had loaded up his sleigh to spread Christmas cheer

But he waved his paddle, to me as a sign,
Before he would disappear below the horizon line.
And I heard him say as he canoed away
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all, have a great paddling day!"

Merry Christmas from Outside Adventure to the Max

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A PADDLE WITH ST. NICHOLAS

'Twas the day before Christmas and all across the waterway,

The water looked splendid I'd just have to say

Not a breath of wind even stirred the air,

And how the stream glistened so bright and so fair

The ducks and geese floated about without a care,

While the otters and beavers swam both here and there

The deer all were nestled deep among the tall trees,

While I waded my boat out, just below my knees.

I slid into my kayak and snapped on my sprayskirt,

Picked up my paddle and pushed away from the dirt

Just downstream, I could hear the rapid's rumble and chatter,

During the summer, it's always a fun place to gather

I paddled down to the top of the flume,

Catching the eddy above with plenty of room

The bubbling whitewater poured over the stone,

Swirling and churning in frenetic foam.

When looking upriver should what did I see?

But another boater who was following me

He had a great stroke it was lively and so quick,

I couldn't believe it, I was paddling with St. Nick

Now he wasn't in a playboat, you see, he needed lots of room,

Not a sea kayak either, too small for him I can only assume

He paddled a big boat as comfortable as an old shoe,

Yes, yes, Santa was in a canoe

It was bright red as the color of his sleigh,

Dancing over the ripples without delay

With a wreath at the bow and streaming with tinsel,

It was quick, I will tell you, like the down of a thistle

In the fast current, he lined up his route,

Past the rocks, he angled toward the chute

He moved his craft forward with a powerful sweep,

Over the first wave, that looked pretty steep

The bow of his canoe arose in mid-air,

As the spray and the splashes flew everywhere

He was heading toward the ledge, it would be a big drop,

Downstream with the current, he went over the top

I was out my boat on the shore at this time you see,

  Trying to get a selfie of Santa and me

I raised up my camera, you see I needed some proof,

As Santa and canoe came down with a boof

As I looked over the water it seemed like a dream,

Santa had turned and was now surfing upstream

Dressed in a bright red drysuit from head to toe,

As he bounced up and down in the waves, both to and fro

His cheeks were rosy, his beard as white as sea foam,

Donning a red cap and sunglasses, he was one cool gnome

His laugh shook the canyon and it echoed below,

Yes, you all know it, it was ho ho ho!

He ferried his canoe out of the current and into the eddy,

Then waved to me to follow as soon as I was ready

  I jumped back in my boat to join the fun

I couldn't believe it, I was joining Santa on a river run

He peeled out quickly heading downriver,

He was in a hurry you see, he had toys to deliver

His mechanics were precise, his stroke was the truest,

I've seen lots of paddlers, but there was no better canoeist

I stay up close, for a while side by side,

But, he quickly outran me, I have to confide

He needed to get back to the North Pole and the reindeer

The elves had loaded up his sleigh to spread Christmas cheer

But he waved his paddle, to me as a sign,

Before he would disappear below the horizon line.

And I heard him say as he canoed away

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all, have a great paddling day!"

Merry Christmas from Outside Adventure to the Max

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OH CHRISTMAS TREE

The best Christmas trees come very close to exceeding nature. If some of our great decorated trees had been grown in a remote forest area with lights that came on every evening as it grew dark, the whole world would come to look at them and marvel at the mystery of their great beauty. ---Andy Rooney

 

It was Christmas time again and I was feeling a little trapped in the endless hustle and bustle of the holiday. I'd been working a lot of extra hours was suffering in the seasonal strain of holidays when I escaped to a little town holding a Christmas festival.

Christmas trees and lights, hay-rack rides, and a booth selling handcrafted old fashion ornaments and kids standing in line to see Santa. Down the way, I saw the Storyteller. Wearing his old leather jacket and trademark Fedora standing in front of a large bond fire roasting chestnut with a long-handled roaster. He had gathered quite an audience of both children and adults watching toast the popular seasonal treat.

"Are they done yet?" asked a child as I walked up to warmed my hands against the fire.

"Not yet," answered the Storyteller as he shooked the roaster, mixing the chestnuts around. He then looked at me and said "Hey, kid. How've you've been? I haven't seen you on the river lately."

"You know," I grunted, "I get pretty busy this time of year. I barely have time to enjoy Christmas."

"There is always time to enjoy Christmas," interjected the Storyteller. He gave his roaster a brisk shake and began this story.

Photo: National Archives

"Now the fellas on the work crew called him Rusty, but his folks always called him Russell," the Storyteller stipulated, "He was one of the two million young unemployed men to seek work with the Civilian Conservation Corps during the dark days of the Depression."

"The CCC,"  he pointed out, "Was a popular the New Deal program created by President Roosevelt to help employ the boys with jobs in conservation work. They worked planting trees, fighting wildfires, and building dams and roads mostly in the Americas' parks and forests. The men lived in camps earning only $30 dollars a month, most of which they sent home to their families. A bit like the army, the CCC provided the men with food, clothing, and medical care, along with job training."

 "It was President's Roosevelt's speech on the radio in 1933, that moved Russell to join up," the Storyteller theorized,  "When the President said, "It is time for each and every one of us to cast away self-destroying, nation-destroying efforts to get something for nothing and to appreciate that satisfying reward and safe reward come only through honest work."

Photo: National Archives

"They were known as "Roosevelt's Tree Army," acknowledged the Storyteller, "Russell worked planting trees in a western forest far from his home. They were long hard days of dirty work, but he knew he was earning a living and also doing something important for his country.  In the few lines he wrote to his parents he said, "I’m getting settled in here and look forward to sending you some money soon. This is sure a great program and Mr. Roosevelt did the right thing by getting it started."

"To be sure, there was some homesickness," insisted the Storyteller, "There always a bit of that of that sadness at being away from loved ones especially during the holidays. The camp commanders did his best to keep morale high by having the camp recreation hall decorated festively, leading sing-a-longs of Christmas carols and providing a Christmas dinner with turkey and apple pie."

"But for Russell, his favorite part of Christmas was decorating the tree," offered the Storyteller, "But, after planting hundreds of trees he just didn't have the heart to cut one down. He had heard about some fella in San Francisco by the named of Sandy Pratt who lifted the spirits of a sick 7-year-old neighbor by decorating a tree growing outside his home. Like all good ideas, it caught on and inspired others to do the same. Pratt encouraged everyone to light and decorate outdoor Christmas trees saying they would "act as beacons to prosperity and spread this cheerful message of confidence."

"So Russell, picked out a tree not too big and not too small close to camp so everyone would able to see it," recounted the Storyteller, "With decorations being sparse he painted several large pine cones green and red using from the leftover paint used on the on the camp's building. He strung some tin cans, spoons and a couple of rusty cowbells with wire and fashioned a wooden star to sit on top of the tree."

"It didn't have any lights," the Storyteller insisted, "Back then even the ones inside didn't have them either. But, it looked pretty good to Russell and to the boys in the camp as they gathered around it to sing Silent Night. They were all a long way from home that Christmas and just the sight of the tree brought them a little Christmas joy."

The Storyteller finished his story as he was pulling the roaster full of chestnuts off the fire and holding it out for the kids and adults to take one to try.
It was still hot as I picked one out and carefully removed its shell and let it cool a bit before popping it into my holiday. Its sweet, nutty flavor warmed up my holiday spirit."

"Hey kid," the Storyteller, looked up from his roaster with a slight pause gave me this advice, "No matter what, I think it’s wise to slow down, clear our heads and truly appreciate what matters this time of year. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too," I said.

Merry Christmas to all of you from Outside Adventure to the Max.

THE CHRISTMAS LETTER

Christmas is a season for kindling the fire for hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart. -- Washington Irving 

It was Christmastime and I was feeling a little homesick. And like always to forget my troubles I went kayaking. I was paddling upstream along the river bank when I came across the Storyteller. Wearing rubber boots, an old leather jacket and his trademark Fedora, he was up to his ankles in the stream stooped over panning for gold. He stirred his pan carefully after standing upright, then held the pan like a waiter holding a plate picking through the big chunks of his find with his other hand.

“Winter is the most successful time of year for finding gold," he said as he noticed me coming towards him still sorting through his pan, "It was then and it still is now. Back then miners worked in freezing cold weather 10 to 12 hour days in leather boots, canvas pants, and a woolen blanket or coat. It was cold but if you were lucky you got gold.”

I beached my kayak along the shore and found a flat rock to watch him work.

"So how are you doing this holiday season?" he asked glancing up from his miner's tin. Seeing my expression he didn't let me answer before running calloused fingers through the sand and gravel again.

"Christmas was like gold in the mine camps," he explained, "Almost every miner took the holiday off, which was always a welcome relief. I think I'll take a break for a little bit too, besides my feet are getting cold in this water."

He waded out the water and sat down on the rock beside me. He was quiet for a moment while scanning his pan for anything before flecking its contents back into the river.

"They were predominantly young men who came out west seeking gold, so their Christmas celebrations were a mixture of unbridled carousing and lonely contemplation. They realized after getting out here that finding their fortune in gold was a lot harder than they previously thought," the Storyteller continued,"They found themselves in a harsh country a long way from home missing family and loved ones. And Christmas just reminded them of just how alone they were."

"One gold seeker named William," pointed out the Storyteller, "Found himself snowed in at his claim site far up along the river. It would not be much of Christmas for him he thought. Because of the drifting snow, he wouldn't be even able to make it to the gold camp to celebrate. The preacher there would offer some short Christmas message in the makeshift saloon. Then after singing a few carols, they would usher in the holiday by whooping it up and firing a gun or two into the air around the fire while a fiddler played a jig."

"Now, nobody called him Bill, " asserted the Storyteller, "It was always William. He came out here from someplace back east, maybe it was Wisconsin. He had been here for almost a year and so far hadn't had much luck and like many certainly hadn't struck it rich."

"He was spending his Christmas, alone and thinking about family back home while writing a letter to his sister Emma he wrote,

"Emma, It snowed hard all day yesterday and got so cold last night made it hard to keep a fire going. I wish that I could be at home today since it's Christmas. We could have a Christmas party. We would have the old gobbler roasted with a score of fat hens, pound cakes, pies, and lots of other good things. But the best of all would be the pleasure of seeing you all. Probably if we live we may be with you next Christmas. And signed it your loving brother, William."

"He wished he might be able to post the letter," the Storyteller speculated, "But back then especially in the wintertime,  the weather and the terrain made it difficult, he had all but given up on getting his letter out or even hearing from anyone back home till next spring. For William, it would be a gloomy Christmas indeed."

"Helloooooo," echoed through the canyon," proclaimed the Storyteller, "Happy for any type of company William grabbed his coat and flipped open the flap of his makeshift cabin door and went outside."

"The snow was gently falling through the trees where William could make out a figure in a Mackinaw jacket and wide-brimmed hat propelling quickly towards him. It was Snowshoe Thompson one of the most dedicated mail carriers of the Sierra Nevada."

"Snowshoe was wearing a pair oak skis carved himself," emphasized the Storyteller, "They were nearly ten feet long and weighed about 25 pounds. As a young boy in Norway, he had used them to travel quickly over the snow-covered terrain. As a mailman Thompson's skiing ability soon became legendary. He could rocket down mountain slopes at nearly 60 miles per hour holding his balance pole out in front of him, dipping it one direction and then the other, all while carrying a pack that could exceed 100 pounds of mail and supplies. It was said nobody could dance on the heavy wooden boards like Snowshoe Thompson."

"With his charcoal smudged cheekbones to prevent snow blindness and beard layered with ice" the Storyteller explained, " Snowshoe whisked himself up the cabin."

"God Jul! Happy Christmas! William!" He exclaimed skiing up to the entrance of the cabin."

"Now most the time," reminded the Storyteller, "Snowshoe would just throw the mail toward the house, and then glide out of sight, up and over a hill. But today being Christmas he was on a special trip to spread some Christmas cheer."

"Merry Christmas!" William called out to him," continued the Storyteller, "Come in and sit by the fire."

"But Snowshoe shook his head and said he couldn't stay long he had more deliveries to make. He pealed the rucksack off his back and set it in the snow then open its flap and reached inside of it pulling out a package wrapped in a brown paper package tied with twine."

"I thought you might be snowed in up here," Snowshoe said to William with a thick Norwegian accent "I knew when I saw this package for you in town, I just knew I had to get it to you by Christmas. So here I am. "

"Snowshoe handed the package to William," said the Storyteller, "It was his first word from home since coming to California. He held it gently and read his sister's handwriting."

"Open it would you now," said Snowshoe, "So I can see what you got for Christmas."

"William," sighed the Storyteller, "Carefully untied a string and unwrapped the package containing a knitted scarf and five folded sheets of paper. It was a letter from his sister Emma updating with news about his family back east. He quickly read the letter's opening lines."

"Dearest William
I hope this letter finds you well. I only hope searching for gold in California is treating you? With any luck, this will arrive by Christmas for I know this scarf will keep you warm. I hope it will remind you of home and how we missed you."

"William again asked Snowshoe to stay for a spell, But once again Snowshoe shook his head and said there is a storm brewing and he would like to make get his deliveries made before it hit," explained the Storyteller, "William quickly went into the cabin to retrieve his letters home and a couple of coins he had been saving to offer payment. Snowshoe took only one coin for the postage of the letters and turned down the rest before soaring off like an eagle on his skis."

"As William finished the last lines of the letter saying,

"God bless you and keep you safe till we meet again your loving sister, Emma" concluded the Storyteller, "Snowshoe was just going over the hill."

"Merry Christmas Snowshoe Thompson!" hollered William."
"God Jul! echoed back.

The Storyteller then picked up his miner's pan and went back to the river. I found my paddle and went to my kayak.

"Hey kid," the Storyteller, called out to me my boat, then with a slight pause then added "No matter where you are kid, Christmas will find you. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too," I said paddling away.

Merry Christmas to all of you from Outside Adventure to the Max.