hasta el juevo

She just showed up one morning, hungry and skittish outside our doorstep. The fridge was empty, save a few onions and an egg. Nick fried up the egg and thus El Juevo she became. She scumbags the pueblo by day and comes home to howl at vegetable trucks and waning moons by night. So now we have a dog in Argentina.

I met David coming back from town, juggling two kilos of potatoes and three bottles of whiskey on a crowded bus. Nick and I had decided to host a Thanksgiving asada, so I went into Lujan to see what traditional foods I could find. Not so much, no turkey, no yams, not even good ketchup. Anyways I was coming home when I wound up sitting with David. It only took a minute to forgo our broken Spanish for some good ole red white and blue American. David was traveling alone after his failed attempt to rekindle a love story. He showed up on her doorstep unannounced after 5 years of silence. It was a luke warm reception followed shortly by the "I'm just not that into you" conversation. Thus he was wandering about with a backpack of river gear and a plan to head somewhere south. David came to the party and stayed awhile.


Our Thanksgiving celebration was whiskey wild. We served freedom fries and a couple of chickens to celebrate the greatness of America and its rich history of distracting folk with food and games while raping and pillaging their lands. Asadas are built on the communist mentality-- no plates for serving individual portions but rather chicken cooked whole and eaten with fingers. But similar to the pitfalls of the socialist agenda it encourages lazier folk to show up just as the chicken is ready and take more than their share. Argentine style, we ate around midnight and partied till dawn.


The first week of December Nick and I visited Aconcagua (that's Mexican for big 'ole mountain). It is the highest peak in the Americas at 22,834 feet, standing a few hundred feet taller than Denali. We spent the day hiking about the edge of the park with an old timer from Potre named Paco and two Slovenians passing through town. The five of us had lunch on long forgotten train tracks paralleling El Cueva, a busy creek carving through rock beds and land bridges atop natural hot springs. We ended our trekking excursion at Puenta del Inca, a popular display of iron colored rocks and bubbling pools, exemplifying the delicate balance of eroding rock formations and centuries of spring thaws.

Work is slow, money's tight, and so passes December. Feliz Navidad, y'all.

--nickiD

On location 12/1/2010

Seems like we had one good stompin rain in the fall of 2010, some parts of Western North Carolina received as much as 9 inches of rain. It was one of those occasions when everything was running and probably too high. I decided to hike down into the Narrows and see what a high water Green looks like, I knew it was going to be high but i didn't expect to see the notch under water. I'm down here in Key West layin low for the holidays, really diggin the beer drinkin and no shirt part.

Cheers

arlyn-

rat tails and man kisses

Expect a whole lot of both if you plan on visiting Argentina. A kiss on either cheek with a bit of tail in between.


We camped beside Lake Mendoza our first few days in Potrerillos. After a chilly evening we awoke to the harsh rays of desert sun against red rocks and crackling creek beds. We had expected an oasis of vibrant wine vineyards but as the sun burned through the mountain breeze we found ourselves in an arid valley similar to the canyons of Utah. Apparently the region's renowned wineries are not due to natural environment but rather to its system of irrigation canals dating back to the Incas.


That morning we walked along the lake to Rios Andinos (about five miles from town) to find no one had heard of any nicks. The owner, who had said there was work, and the head boatman, who actually doles out the work, hadn't spoken, so we were greeted by a somewhat polite 'who the fuck are you?' (en espanol). After a few minutes of awkward explanations we were informed they didn't need any guides but to come back in a week to see if Nick could check out as a safety kayaker. At this point I thought it wise not to mention I was looking for work as well.


For the next couple of days we walked around town and looked for a place to rent for the season. It was late on the fourth day when we stopped into a kiosco (think NYC bodega) and the owner offered to show us the two vacant houses next door. We decided on the smaller of the two- a one bedroom cabana with white washed brick walls and a slanted wooden roof. The senora seemed surprised we wanted to move in without gas or furniture but we assured her we didn't mind and settled into our summer home that evening. Just as we closed our front door the wind began to howl and the temperature dropped dramatically. The next morning we awoke to frosted windows and a crown of snow covered peaks outside of town.


Unwelcome but here none the less, we established our presence in Potre. The following week Nick went to check out for work, but after a bit of confusion the head boatman realized they were a guide short. Nick volunteered having never seen the river and was cleared to guide after the trip. We were invited to our first Argentine asado that evening.

Argentine time has little to do with hours and minutes. If they tell you 7:30, you're going to look like a schmuck if you get there before 9. And 9 o'clock is when they start burning wood for coals so don't expect the first piece of meat until 11. Anyways old man midget hands and I showed up just as people were waking up from their afternoon siesta, and already a bit silly from nipping the bottle of whiskey on the walk over.


Folk ain't so down with the brown here so our dinner contribution remained untouched while Nick and I became acquainted with the Argentine national drink, Fernet (thick and bitter, similar to Jagger, drank with Coca-Cola). We didn't make it to dinner that night. Just as they were heating up the brick oven outside we stumbled home a bit hungry and a bit drunk but better prepared for our next midnight meat feast.

--nickiD

los gringos nics

We met in Bogota on October 28'th after being sniffed down by drug dogs. This was coming into Colombia. Huh. The next morning we arrived in Santiago to a crowd of Chilean taxi drivers hustling their services in a cacophony of Spanglish shouts. It was cold, with a fresh halo of snow capped peaks encircling the city. After 20ish hours of travel our driver dropped us off at a dive hotel to rest before venturing into the full throttled metropolis outside.


Around lunch we headed into the heart of Santiago. The streets were busy with vendors of all varieties-- ice cream stands next to underwear tables smelling like the whole array of undefined street meat. Greasy teenagers and weathered city folk grouped beneath clouds of smoke, the bitter stench of tobacco clinging to hats and scarves. We ordered cigarettes with our cerveza in a late night cafe and set the alarm for the early bus out of town.

The first bus to Curico left at 7am. After three hours of driving south, we crossed town with our backpacks, kayaking gear and guitar to another bus terminal where we piled our luggage between the driver and captain's seat of a riggidy microbus. Within a few kilometers the pavement gave way to a gravel road heading into the Andes.


The bus dropped us off in front of the Hosteria (think bed and breakfast) just outside the small town of Los Quenes. It was Turbo's second season working for Todd, a fellow gringo who found his way to Chile 10 years ago from the rivers of Idaho. We set camp uphill of the Hosteria, nestled in a grove of trees opening into the mountains.


We were there a week. We spent three days on the water, kayaking the Rio Tano and Rio Claro. The glacial rivers were sharp and shallow with sections of class 5 rapids. Turbo introduced us to his Chilean caballeros, a dude from Patagonia who goes by Petey, and a local kayaker and his lady- Gonzo and Fran. Petey led us on a full day excursion for views of volcanoes and condors and spectacular tales of combustible plants.


Gonzo drove us through the fertile foothills of the Chilean coastal range. There were remnants of last year's earthquake everywhere. Most yards sported a government financed hut hastily constructed amongst the wreckage of homes-- the Chilean double wide for disaster victims.


The following weekend we left for Argentina. After two bus rides and a full morning of shuffling bags we were in Santiago to catch another bus across the Andes. Two hours outside of Mendoza the driver dropped us off on the main highway and told us this was Potrerillos. It was dark; we knew no one and had no place to go. We didn't have a phone or a number for the rafting company, nor the Argentine currency in a town too small for a bank or an internet cafe. Thus, los gringos nics started their adventure into summer yet again.

--nickiD

drivin down to the dirty . . .

Fall comes early in Alaska. By September the once vibrant yellows were in a state of decay and the rafts prickled with frost come morning. The cruise line garys had stopped touring and business was slow. With little work and slim pickings at the cook shack Nick and I checked out early and were in route to Fairbanks before dinner on the 8th.

The next four days it rained. The all day showers followed us throughout the Alaska Highway, albeit mercifully intermittent as we set up camp in the Yukon and BC. Compared to the drive up in May there was fewer game hunting the highway, excluding a lone wolf circling the civic as we entered Canada. Somewhere near Mile 1--Dawson City-- our stash of fresh moose hind dwindled as our noodle a la sriracha dinners had a bit of added color from roadside produce stands.

On day five we arrived at my uncle's property on the southern tip of Key Peninsula, a bit of coastline jutting into Puget Sound. We unpacked the car and hung busted camping gear to dry while we stretched our driving legs into a pair of sea kayaks, trailed by a duo of spotted seals.

We had planned to hang low and take the scenic route back but after a nightmarish vision of apocalypse we decided to rush home. We left around lunch with hurried goodbyes and damp clothes, stopping only for gas, coffee and Backwoods. Near Olympia we rented the final installment of Harry Potter on CD and didn't rest till peace had been restored at Hogwarts, a 27-hour stretch from western Washington to southeastern Colorado. There was an oil change in Wyoming, a sunrise through the canyon lands of Utah and the Wild West disappeared into a never ending line of angry taillights in the merging metropolis of Dallas- Fort Worth.

From there to Picayune, Mississippi the trip was an uneventful stretch of interstate, where Nick retrieved his home on wheels and I made the final stretch back to the suburbs of Atlanta. Over the next month we toured the southeast-- kayaking in Chatoogaland, hiking the Smokies and rafting the Gauley-- before venturing into the dirty dirty south: Chile.

--nickiD

YOU MAY BE A SCUMBAG IF. . .

OK, so this contest is almost an inevitable evolutionary step. It was bound to happen eventually. Email your "You may be a scumbag if..." submissions to glenn@teamscum.com for your chance to win a Limited Edition 'Glenn Webster' Tshirt. The Top 10 submissions will be read aloud with commentary by Glenn and will receive one of said Tshirts.



- Submissions must be received before Dec 1
- Winners will be announced daily in a Top 10 Countdown beginning Monday Dec 6
- Please include relevant contact info with your submission

Swan Strokes

Saw a bunch of people walking up to get multiple laps at Gorilla this weekend. Some good lines some not so nice lines, check our Dane swan strokin' off the pad.


arlyn-

Seven Finger Brown Clawz

I woke up and checked gauges and resigned myself to the fact that i would going to school instead of kayaking on the first day of the fall creekin' season. But I got a call from Wilcox and it did not take much convincing to get me to blow off school and throw my kayaking gear in the van instead of my school books. I have been kayaking for a couple years now but I have never seen torrents of exploding water like I saw yesterday, standing holes with foam piles double overhead are mind blowing. No pictures of kayaking but i'm sure any kayaker would appreciate something like this. If you can name the place I got a free TeamScum T-shirt for you, email me at arlynag@hotmail.com if you know where it is.








I got my mustache on for the Green Race

cheers
arlyn-

The Fork!

Check out the new Fist, not much room for error!

The seasons continue to change and everyday I realize how much I love being in the southeast for the fall. This past weekend I made the trip up to Elkhorn City to explore the depths of Breakspark with two of my best paddling friends, check out some of the pictures from the trip.

Probably my favorite photo from the weekend, if you look close you can see a paddler dropping El Horendo
Check out my new boat!
They even had some karaoke for us at the paddler appreciation event in Elkhorn City. Hope everybody is getting excited for the Green Race coming up. Hopefully the boys at Tuxedo Hydro station will smile on us this weekend!

cheers
arlyn-

Full Moon Reflections

We are putting the miles behind us. Tailwind or headwind, downpour or warm shoulders, we paddle. Well, we at least float. We've taken up the habit of procrastinating on sunny days. Instead of paddling, we lean back and catch some floating shut-eye. We wake with pink faces and unaware of the time. Other days, when it rains, we put our heads down, enter a state of zen, and paddle until we get to camp.
Our first event was a huge success. Yesterday, we hosted eight hours of eclectic music, 20 gallons of soup, and several barrels of delicious beer, compliments of Summit Brewery. By 10:30 a.m., youngsters were running around with face paint and sidewalk chalk. By noon, their parents stood, watching the kids climb all over the St. Paul Fire Department truck and the St. Paul police car. Fortunately, anyone who went in the backseat didn't have cuffs on. The public servicemen donated their time and resources to entertain the kids and adults alike. Later in the day, the party got cranking, people got to dancing, and before we knew it, we were getting more barrels. The raffle was a huge hit, too. The Bending Branches paddles and Joe Mauer's signed baseball were huge money-makers. We raised just under $2,400. That puts our running total over $10,000. That's a lot of dough that's going to help out a lot of people in Haiti.
Tomorrow, we hit the River again, get back into our stride, and migrate with the geese. Sometimes the crew ends up in a V-pattern and I wonder if it's instinct. The full moon has been wonderful, reflecting off the River at each bend. We may try to use the still large waning light to do a night paddle. Weather looks to be cooperative for the coming week. Temperatures are undeniably lowering. Leaves are turning summer into autumn. We will chase these colors to the Gulf. We've determined we'll begin the journey of borders tomorrow as we leave Minnesota's body and instead have it on our right, while Wisconsin will be on our left. This is all quite exciting. We're getting a bit rough around the edges- real River Rats.

Local Yokles

This past summer i was away from WNC from May-August, needless to say prime time for some bareback Green Runs. I was really looking forward to being back in WNC and running the Green. A bunch of my friends stuck around and ran the Green all summer and you could really tell because everybody looked super strong out there with extremely clean lines. Seems like some of the locals had even decided to start running Hammer Factor with their legs on top of the boat for extra style points.
Check out Jeff Payne with his feet on the deck!

Hope everybody is getting excited about the turning of the seasons.

arlyn-

L'UNION FAIT LA FORCE

So a few months ago some of our friends from the northland asked us to design some Tshirts for a philanthropic paddle down the Mississippi River to help raise money for Haiti relief efforts. They are paddling 2300 miles from Lake Itasca,Minnesota down to the Gulf of Mexico with various riverside BBQs, frisbee tournaments, and concerts planned along the way with hopes of raising $50,000. We thought this sounded great and jumped at the opportunity to get involved. So, teamscum has partnered up with the Paddle to Haiti crew in an effort to help raise cash. The 'L'Union Fait La Force' T's will be available in about a week and the proceeds will go towards the cause.




The crew put on the river Sept 2 and were last seen camping in the rain at Stump Lake. You can follow the adventure on their BLOG and Tshirts will be on sale in about a week at the teamscum.com shop -

HOMEGROWN 6 RESULTS

HOMEGROWN 6 WENT OFF LAST SATURDAY and if you missed it you missed a good time. With over 150 photo and 23 video entries, this year was the strongest showing of highly motivated amateur whitewater photographers /videographers to date. Some of the highlights included celebrity MC Daniel "Terrence" Young making it all the way through the Carnage Video category before the Jager caught up (what proceeded to happened to him the rest of the night is another blog post), nearly 60 full seconds of 4 foot tall jugs brought to you courtesy of Blaine Patrick, Colin Hunt took home a new Pyranha kayak, Zach Dean did not win 1st Place General Video, the LVM Jumbotron only got knocked down once, and Chalwa wrapped it up with some live reggae. You can view all the winning photos and videos here>>


General Video

1st Place // Colin Hunt
2nd Place // Zach Dean
3rd Place // Juice Jones
Hon Ment // Ryan Bailey
Hon Ment // Saunders Southcorvo


Carnage Video

1st Place // Logan James
2nd Place // Patrick Blaine
3rd Place // Preston Woods
Hon Ment // Ben Perrin
Hon Ment // Max Posner






Action Photos

1st Place // Nick Gottlieb
2nd Place // Lauren Farrell
3rd Place // Warren Williams
Hon Ment // Jason McClure
Hon Ment // Pete Lucic




Artsy Fartsy Photos

1st Place // Andy Hinton
2nd Place // Lynne Larosa
3rd Place // Carolina Beltran
Hon Ment // Ben McKee
Hon Ment // Katie Cahn


Thanks to CWO for the awesome venue, all the generous sponsor contributions,the patient judges who evaluated the massive pile of entries,and most importantly everyone who showed up and took the time to send in an entry. Get your cameras ready cause we're gonna do it again next year bitches.

Paddle to Haiti

My eyes have been bugging out from computer screens. I've stopped waiting on hold for more than thirty seconds of elevator music. The planning is essentially done. I'm too damn excited to be inside anymore. Sure, the River will be flowing in a week, but all I can think about is that the River is flowing right now.

The barn is clean and ready for the crew to arrive. Zach is here. Amanda is on her way. Louis and Brett head out from Steamboat tomorrow. Matt is negotiating a journey up here. I'll pick up Little Dipper and Dave in the next couple days from the Milwaukee airport. Warm days and chilled nights are in the forecast for the next week. Perfect for building the oar rigs and scrambling for last minute details during the day. Also perfect for sharing a few evening beers around the fire pit in the corral.

We have a week before loading up the Mohawk canoes and heading north to Lake Itasca, Minnesota. Along the way, we'll pick up seven paddles from Bending Branches in Osceola, Wisconsin. We'll camp the night up at the lake and undoubtedly get that guttural feeling of insecure madness and nerves, all of which will be eased in the next few days as we take the first few paddle strokes. We'll get to Minneapolis/ St. Paul within a couple weeks, and, ultimately, the Gulf. But, along the way, we will be thinking of Haiti. For now, the River flows just as it will in a week and we have some more work to do.

HG6 // MEET THE JUDGES

If you have ever attended Homegrown, you know how the awards work. Each winner gets a kick ass prize package, a shot of Jager and a can of ice-cold PBR. In the past, Nick takes a shot with each winner so you can imagine how things could spiral downhill after 4 or 5 shots. . .10-12 shots . . .20 shots!! Actually, I'm surprised that he has been able to finish the show at all. Last year there was some confusion about the crowd decision for 1st place General Video, a camera got smashed, the jumbotron got knocked down, the Pabst brothers were found passed out spooning in a van, etc etc. But thats how we do it here at teamscum, so this isnt an apology, more of a disclaimer.

So . . . . In response to allegations that we just give away all the Homegrown prizes to our friends, we invite you to meet the judges. The entries are evaluated by 3 unbiased celebrity judges who get together behind closed doors the Thursday before the show and diligently work through all the entries to decide 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 2 honorable mentions for 2 photo and 2 video categories (thats a grand total of 20 awards). This, I assure you, is no easy task. So who are these people?

Nolan Davis

Principle sales rep and co-owner of Outdoor Sports Marketing, this is Nolan's 4th year as a Homegrown judge. He loves the punishment, (or maybe just the free beer) and keeps coming back. He likes long walks on the beach and his favorite color is rainbows. Bribes? Officially good to go.




Jared Curtioff

He's weird, he's wild, he designed the Drop Zone helmet for Grateful Heads. This is Jared's 2nd year helping us sort this mess out and we appreciate the time he takes out of his busy schedule at Astral Buoyancy to lend a hand. I suggest bribing him.





Barbara Westbrook

If you have spent any time around the Chattooga River you have probably been chewed out at least once by Barbara Westbrook (and you probably deserved it). With extensive photography experience, Barbara brings a sharp eye to the table. In accordance with a longstanding Chattooga River tradition, bribing is most definitely encouraged.




So we have a ton of great prizes to give away, including a new Pyranha kayak, and you have about a week left to get your entries in so don't delay.

Thanks to our generous sponsors: Pyranha, Osprey, Shred Ready, Snapdragon, Robinson Knives, Astral, MSR, Pothole paddles, Prana, Solgear, Thermarest, Lunatic Apparel, NRS, Smartwool, Aquabound paddles, Immersion Research, Element Expeditions, The River Gypsies, Outdoor Research, LVM, Stonyboater, Nattyshred, Cottonmouth Noseplugs, Endless River Adventures, Rapid Transit Video, and of course teamscum.

See you at the show!!

Photos from the great north . . .

With the fall approaching, colors beginning to change, rafting season slowing down, and free time starting to peak her little head around the corner, I've managed to collect a few images worth sharing from the luxurious Denali Park and surrounding areas.


An alaskan summer night-time is more like a perpetual sunrise, never quite getting dark but full of colors.
The fireweed flower blooms from the bottom up, then looses its petals in the same fashion. When the petals are all gone, fall is here and the fireweed turns fire red.
Can you skin a griz cowboy???
Sometimes even us raft guides try to blend in with the waddies, hanging out in fancy hotel porch's pretending like we're supposed to be there, drinking some of that brown drink, overlooking the nenana river and thousands of miles pristine wilderness.


p.s.--where the hell is talkeetna???

HG6 Carnage Category Video and FAQ

Here's a little Carnage Category Promo Vid to help get you motivated to send in an entry as well as some answers to some Frequently Asked Questions about the contest. . .






FAQ

1. What the hell is the 6th Annual HOMEGROWN Photo/Video Contests?

Homegrown is an amateur photo/video contest that seeks to encourage creativity inspired by a lack of resources. Its also a great excuse to get together at the chattooga river and throw a party while showcasing amateur media in a live setting instead of sitting at home watching user submitted content on your computer. There will be am awards presentation, big-screen photo/video viewing, live reggae with CHALWA, and more.

2. How do I know if I'm an amateur?

If you are a paid paddler, photographer, or videographer then you are not an amateur. If you have average camera/computer equipment and are too broke to buy the rights to the music you use in your video, then you are probably an amateur and Homegrown is the right contest for you.

3. Can I submit more than one entry?

Absolutely. There is a $5 entry fee for your first entry, then $2 for each additional entry.

4. Whats up with the entry fee?

The entry fees go towards covering the costs of the show (mainly booze and reggae) plus you get an event Tshirt if you submit an entry.

5. What is the deadline for entries?

Entries must be received no later than midnite august 23.

6. Can I bring my kids?

Things are PG-13 until dark, after dark its rated R or maybe NC-17. So with that being said its really up to you.

7. How do you decide who wins?

The entries are evaluated by 3 independent, unbiased judges. 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and honorable mention prizes are awarded for 2 photo (action and artsy fartsy) and 2 video categories (5-7 minute general video and 1-3 minute strictly carnage).

8. Do I have to be present to win?

Nope. We'll mail your prizes if you are unable to attend the show.

9. Should I bring anything to the show?

It would be advisable to bring camp chairs and rain gear.

10. What else do I need to know?

If you are planning to attend you might as well submit an entry. This contest is for fun, not prestige, plus you'll get a Tshirt and its more fun to participate than to just show up and watch! This event is supported solely by your participation and its not any fun if you dont participate. So send in an entry ASAP.

Rambling's of a Rambler

The summer is here and i have been hittin' that dusty ol' trail pretty hard. Most of my ramblings have been limited to Idaho and Montana, with a couple other states thrown in the mix for good measure. I have a pretty sweet work schedule which allows for ample amounts of no responsibility, I have been doing some kayaking and a whole bunch of life living. Here is a quick account and a few pictures from the summer as far as i have seen it.

Teva Mtn Games:
Turns out the Homesteak Creek race actually starts before the opening ceremonies in Vail so if you plan on attending that event you have to be on top of your shit. I got flooded out of my camp site in Vail and had to relocate in the middle of the night, somebody was nice enough to leave their trailer open for me to crash in.

Turns out Idaho has some really amazing wilderness areas and an incredible amount of drainage's fed by peaks above 11 and 12 thousand feet. Check out some pictures from an unnamed peak near the East Fork of the Salmon in Custer County Idaho. Raft Guides on the Payettes have a pretty sweet housing deal! One of the outfitters bought a piece of land along the N.F of the Payette to act as guide housing. So you can pitch your tent for the summer drive up the road and put on the N.F and take out at your "house". I met up with some Boone Town kidz in Banks and spent the forth of July weekend paddling the Payettes. We put on with a big crew of Banks locals for an after work run down the Staircase, it's a road side run so one of the shuttlers was stopping at the rapids to shoot bottle rockets off at us. I had a hard time getting my shit together to take any photos while in Banks, but i can tell you for sure that no picture can accurately represent the size and stature of the N.F Payette Check out Big Falls on the "Canyon" section of the S.F payetteA Nice view of the Sawtooth Mountains in Custer County

Keep it irie
arlyn-