The tales of adventures that went awry abound.
Books such as Not So Funny When It Happened (edited by the target of my adventure travel writer man-crush, Tim Cahill); No Shit! There I Was; and Oh No! We’re Gonna Die, are but a few of the genre.
Truth be told, the awryer the better if you’re an adventure humor travel writer (or wannabe facsimile of same)…assuming you survive the ordeal, that is.
And, for anyone having followed my decades of travel ordeals knows, I should have tomes of travel tales on the aisles of the digital bookstore shelves over at Amazon.
Most of my adventures seem to take place on, or under, some form of water, so yes, my travel stories are truly all wet.
One waterborne pursuit I partake pretty often is lake kayaking. Compared with scuba diving 100-feet down through rusty wrecks, helicopter skiing deep powder on steep slopes, or taking a shower in a tub with no non-skid pads, you would not think much could happen on a calm mountain lake, while safely ensconced in a stable, high-flotation watercraft.
You would think.
Viewer caution suggested for visual grossness of this next picture.
How, you might ask, is that type of injury even possible under such conditions?
Well, my first instinct was to proclaim that I jumped off a cliff to save a young child from drowning, but apparently that cock and bull story has already left the farm.
Like my dad used to say, “The second liar doesn’t have a chance.”
O.K. How about this: I was attacked by a yet unknown, high sierra cousin of the feared freshwater piranha.
Well, I just remembered. A huge, winged marauder swooped in to grab my iPhone 5S off of my lap.
Ha, ha, stupid winged marauder; I already paid $1,000 for someone to stand in line for me for the new iPhone 6 Plus.
No, not that either?
Well, what certainly
should have not happened did not happen, was that, as I was taking three steps in knee deep water, I tripped on a rock and landed on another.
Ha, ha stupid rock. It only bled for an hour.