You might be wondering what the fuck that picture is. I would too… If I wasn’t there! Obviously the camera man was just as shiteyed as all the people dancing, but nevertheless you get the drift. This is a picture of the tail end of one of the funnest trips I have ever gone on in my life. Now listen, It’s not Cabo with a bunch of young 9′s running around with no idea what the age of consent means, but it was fucking awesome!
Mark has invited me to do this for the last 5 years and for some reason it did not seem like my cup of river water. Then I started hearing everyone “raving” about how much fun it was… Literally.
To me rafting has always been a shitty memory. Putting in the water up at the sunrise bridge, dealing with 17 year old cocksuckers spraying you point blank in the ear with a 45,000 psi water cannon, the real winners on the shore that can’t even afford a fucking inter-tube so they stand on the banks with their ugly fat pit-bull and claim their sets, enough loud white trash to make you think they were filming a deliverance sequel, the one Rhodes Scholar that brings down a generator and a fucking fire hose and takes the skin off you from a hundred yards away, water brawls over which Samoan had the coolest jean shorts, the line of girls lined up puking along the water line, the huge 30ft. stretch of raging class .05 rapids at San Juan and last but not least, the regret. The fact that you just threw away 5 hours of your life that you will never, ever get back. Anyways, those are just a few memories that left a somewhat bitter taste in my mouth when it comes to rafting.
So heading up to Cache Creek, I did not know what to expect. The second I pulled in, my mind had changed. First off, everyone has to pay. This gave me a great false sense of hope. I figure, if people shell out a hundred and fifty hard earned clams, they are gunna spend a little more time having fun, and a little less time throwing water balloons at a 90lb. girl when they aren’t looking.
As you pull in, you are directed to your parking spot. It’s is customary for me to have a cold beer anytime I park a car, and this was no exception. As I pounded my ice cold Hamms, my team readied our gear in the two trucks that would meet us at the camp site. Yes camp site. This mother fucker lasts all night player… I digress. After we handle the stowing of our gear, we all grab our ice chests (use a zip-up, soft ice chest. When you tip, not if, but when you tip, you will want something nice and light, zipped up, and has a long easily in a panic grabbable handle) and jump on the bus. We arrive at the Launch site for a quick, educational, and insightful orientation. People should really listen to this Adam guy. In hindsight, this guy was like Jesus preaching to an unwilling crowd. But I can guarantee you that when everyone of the cocky lemmings went face first into the water 5 minutes after they put in, they had wished they absorbed every fucking syllable of what this genius was preaching. Hats off to Adam.
Anyways, my crew and I hit the water. Now I will admit, from my previous rafting experiences, I was a little arrogant heading up river. Not five motherfucking minutes after getting in the raft, we were flipped like a fucking NFL coin-toss. Between panicking, laughing and snorting water like I was in a Vegas hotel room, I realized that the rapids I had gone down before, were more like Toddler piss flowing over some gravel. This was FUCKING AMAZING. I immediately started playing back every 9th word I could remember of what Adam had tried to tender to us earlier. We rescued the ice-chests first, of course. Then we made sure our foursome was still alive and in good spirits. The girls were a little shooken up, but all and all it was good to get the first roll-over out of the way early.
We pushed on. Winding down the river and drinking a culmination of adult beverages. We were lucky enough to have the token, loud and wasted dipshit with us, so it made for a little extra entertainment. Note to self: Never go rafting with that guy for the rest of my life. For any reason. Ever.
After an hour into the adventure I made Meryl Streep and Kevin Bacon look like a couple of cunts. Our raft team was on point. We were shootin’ rapids like pros. Bobbin’, weavin’. Duckin’, Dodgin’. We made it look easy. A few more stops in between to empty water out of our vessel and have a snack and we were almost home. We had gone 5 hours now with no mistakes and we knew the most gnarly set was left to conquer. We got our heads in the game and headed for the noise. You could hear these ones. And I am not going to lie, it gives you a liiiiiiittle pit in your stomach. As we crested the beginning of the last set of roaring waters, we had noticed there was a 9 car pile-up. At the speed we were going we all knew that this was not going to end up very pretty. Unfortunately there are no brakes on these bastards, so the best we could do, is grab on and brace for impact. And so we did. We hit the poor pricks in front of us going so fast our raft looked like a bad football spiral. It was a fucking yard sale!!!! Everything had to go! After hitting every appendage on my body against huge boulders, I made it back to the raft. Due to our cunning and prowess, our team made it safely back into the craft with only some scrapes and bruises. Oh and diarrhea. If you ever have trouble hangin a deuce, go up to Cache Creek and drink about 4 gallons of the river water. Jesus Christ!!!!
We make it to camp. Or tent city if you will. Greeted by the incredible staff, we unload our boats and grab our gear that was carefully laid out for us to easily fetch. We gear up and walk to our chosen site to camp. After everyone set up their houses for the night, we all began to reminisce about the day over a well deserved cocktail. I tried to throw a pole in the water, but I think the fish have the same problem with the water as I did. The only thing I caught was Shit. We all sat along the river and had some laughs. We got in the water and tossed around a football with a couple of the river locals. I could do a whole article on these specimens, but I will save that for another day.
At this point the game of hide and go seek from William was heavily underway. This son-of-a-bitch was like Magellan. He could find you anywhere. We were summoned to attend Marks VIP pre-party and appetizer tech, and sure enough he found us there. The spread was unreal! Hoursdevours everywhere! You thought Mark hooked up bottle service in Sac… You should see his woodsy Grey Goose and King Crab Leg Technique. This guy was a marvelous host to say the least.
Dinner was served, and the crowd was focused!!! Everyone was enjoying the amazing spread and libations. Not an asshole or a problem the entire trip. Well except for our soldier, but fuck it… He had a bottle of warm Jaeger and a mission! Although he was in the spirit world, he only grabbed my nuts 11 times and my girls ass twice. For him, this was actually really polite.
As the sun goes down, you begin to notice what looks like the set-up of a Kiss Concert underway. What was a mess-hall an hour earlier is now a dance floor waiting to be decimated. I know what your thinking… and yes, dancing on dirt is actually pretty Dovas. The forest took on a life of its own. I haven’t seen this many black lights at a fucking dead show. Now, I am not sure how old the DJ was, but Boys To Men needs to be taken out of the line up. I think this guy must live up there. Permanently. It was like I was at Freshman Homecoming again. Don’t get me wrong, everyone was so pumped he could have gotten away with Bach, but I think in the future someone should introduce DJ Timemachine to the internet.
The vibe was intense and everyone was having a great fucking time… Then the music stops. Done. Over. At 10:30. Yes. And I know you think I am about to talk shit…nope. A look of total relief came over the entire crowd. It’s time. Really. The day has been so long that you are praying for a smoke and a pillow. This curfew is fucking Genius! Everyone had the time of their life and now they can get a solid 8 in before breakfast in the early morning.
Now, most people went to bed as the directions stated. I, myself could not. I proceeded to do a 2 hour stand-up routine at our camp site to the point that Mark followed the sound of my really quiet voice, and grounded me like my father. It’s funny, I have never heard anyone say that my voice carries. I made it to my sleeping bag, safe and sane.
In the morning you are woken by the smell of ham and eggs and the sound of subtle urgency. You eat, pack and are shuttled back to your car by 9am.
All said, it was an amazing adventure and I will look forward to returning very soon. If you haven’t done it. Do it. If you have. Do it again.
Plate – Bobby Flay couldn’t present a better spread in these conditions. It is an amazing production to say the least. Amazing apps, followed by choice of Chicken or Steak or Both, breath-taking pasta, and a literal field of huge baked potatoes and corn on the cob. And if you are truly lucky, you can enjoy the Maserati Mark accoutrement. Giant King Crab Legs with all the fixings. You will not got to the party hungry. Trust me.
Price – I believe that he has specials running every day, but all I can say is, it’s worth it! $15 or $150, you will get your fill. It’s worth every penny. Don’t wait till next summer, get your ass up to Cache Creek.
People – I’ll start with the staff. Mark has put together quite a group of people. Everyone is professional, courteous and eager to please. From the second I arrived to the minute I was driving away, Every person I met was incredibly helpful. You can tell Marks attitude and generosity has been adapted by everyone on his team. Now, the people that attend this trip are quite eclectic. Everyone was only focused on fun. It was quite a pleasant surprise.
Puss –Well… In this case I would suggest BYOP. Don’t get me wrong you will find some gals running around, but this environment is far more conducive for a “couples trip”. And the bottom line is, that if you can’t land one during the day, you will have a real hard time at night. all you can see is fog and glow sticks.
Pot – This is the only problem that I could really pinpoint. Whom ever is in charge of the facilities needs a pep-talk. It was like pooping in Baghdad.