Some of my more agnostic paddling friends give me a hard time when I can’t paddle on Sunday mornings because of church. They call Sunday morning paddles “River Church”. One of the nice things about being Catholic is that you can go to Mass on Saturday, and then go to “River Church” on Sunday, and not feel guilty about it (if you are prone to feel guilty about those types of things). Anyway, yesterday was my day to go to “River Church”.
It has been almost a year since I took the drive out to Tariffville, CT to run the Tariffville Gorge or “Tville” section of the Farmington River. “Tville” is one of the best-known whitewater runs in southern New England. The run itself is short - just 1.5 miles - but the water runs most of the year, and there are play spots for paddlers of all skill levels. At yesterday’s level it was a class II/III run. The river starts off with some easy surf waves and ledges.
Once you enter the gorge the intensity picks up a bit with the Bridge Abutment Rapid (ran right) and the Playhole (ran left). The Playhole was at nice level, but I was too chicken to try. Here are a couple of the braver souls in the playhole.
Seems to me you’ve positioned yourself semi-church,
under cumuli cathedral though your pew’s about to lurch.
Devil’s wavin’ from big hole so best take righteous direction.
Hell, your positioned halfway there dodgin’ wave in genuflection
Perhaps naming that red Bell of yours, “A Beady Rosary” might “indulge” a few additional church kitchen passes?
Peace be with you, brother.
Signed,
The Methodless Methodist Married Into the Vatican Mob
(Without a host, mind ya!)
My wife says it smells like a pond, although any of the smelly things in this song could describe it as well.
Seems to me you’ve positioned yourself semi-church,
under cumuli cathedral though your pew’s about to lurch.
Devil’s wavin’ from big hole so best take righteous direction.
Hell, your positioned halfway there dodgin’ wave in genuflection
Devil is frequently calling from the dark side, but I remain kneeling - no sitting in those pointy little boats for me.
Perhaps naming that red Bell of yours, “A Beady Rosary” might “indulge” a few additional church kitchen passes?
Might work - I had it out Saturday for a vigil paddle https://vimeo.com/272026509
Peace be with you too, brother.
Signed,
Confused Congregationalist Now Conjoined into the Vatican Mob
@eckilson said:
Some of my more agnostic paddling friends give me a hard time when I can’t paddle on Sunday mornings because of church. They call Sunday morning paddles “River Church”. One of the nice things about being Catholic is that you can go to Mass on Saturday, and then go to “River Church” on Sunday, and not feel guilty about it (if you are prone to feel guilty about those types of things). Anyway, yesterday was my day to go to “River Church”.
It has been almost a year since I took the drive out to Tariffville, CT to run the Tariffville Gorge or “Tville” section of the Farmington River. “Tville” is one of the best-known whitewater runs in southern New England. The run itself is short - just 1.5 miles - but the water runs most of the year, and there are play spots for paddlers of all skill levels. At yesterday’s level it was a class II/III run. The river starts off with some easy surf waves and ledges.
Once you enter the gorge the intensity picks up a bit with the Bridge Abutment Rapid (ran right) and the Playhole (ran left). The Playhole was at nice level, but I was too chicken to try. Here are a couple of the braver souls in the playhole.
My church doesn’t have Saturday services , so Sunday is family day. After church, we go to a local restaurant with our daughter’s family. Good way to keep in touch.
I’m a self proclaimed, self annoited, and self rightous Arch Deacon in the Church of What’s Happening Now.
Have preached many sunday sermons while paddling downstream on many rivers.
I am available for river sermonizing, but require a substantial offering, plus travel expenses.
A signed, liability release is required from all paddlers who participate in services.
Questions would also come my way when I missed church, usually politely phrased like “we missed you at Church last week.” My offering would be “When I’m in the canoe, I’m in the pew.” For me, like many of us, there is a spiritual component to being on the river.
However, my paddling friends are a reverent bunch, and although we may occasionally miss formal services, we do say blessings when we break bread on the river.
Canoeists - Help us, O Lord, to finish this, thy bounty of sandwiches and beers, which we are about to receive from the cooler, beneath thy cookies and chips, Amen.
Kayakers - Help me, O Lord, to extract this, thy gift, a smashed Powerbar, which I struggle to retrieve from the stern of my kayak, through contortions and blind grasping, Amen.
You’re reminding me of times on various river with various friends and even folks who have posted here over the years.
So Norman Maclean sez:
Eventually all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless dewdrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.
I am haunted by waters.
Let us open our hymnals to “Shall we gather by the river.”
@Waterbearer said:
Questions would also come my way when I missed church, usually politely phrased like “we missed you at Church last week.” My offering would be “When I’m in the canoe, I’m in the pew.” For me, like many of us, there is a spiritual component to being on the river.
However, my paddling friends are a reverent bunch, and although we may occasionally miss formal services, we do say blessings when we break bread on the river.
Canoeists - Help us, O Lord, to finish this, thy bounty of sandwiches and beers, which we are about to receive from the cooler, beneath thy cookies and chips, Amen.
Kayakers - Help me, O Lord, to extract this, thy gift, a smashed Powerbar, which I struggle to retrieve from the stern of my kayak, through contortions and blind grasping, Amen.
Our old pastor asked why I never joined the family for church on Sunday. My response was I felt close to God at dawn on the lake. She let that fly. My kind of preacher.
