The Magical Lily Pad Pond

August 23, 2010.

We rose about a half hour before first light. As we put on our warm layers and lifejackets, the first light creeps over the hills. We push off one by one in our blue kayaks, there are only three of us on this excursion to the lily pad pond. We paddle across the calm bay to a little inlet. As we creep along in the clear channel, a flock of Merganser ducks squawks by us. Very slowly and quietly we enter into the lily pad pond.

The pond is misty and full of huge green pads loaded with yellow flowers. The center of which contains swirls of orange and black. We hear an eagle over head. Ever so gently, we glide across the pond scanning the water’s edge and look into the woods for wildlife.

Read the rest of this entry »

Tweet This Post

Written by Ali McNabb

1 Comment »

The Storm Troopers

June 29, 2010.

By Ali McNabb

Our paddle across Jackson Lake on the first day of an early season trip this year was one to remember, an epic tale of man verses the forces of nature. The morning kicked off with classic blue skies, sunshine and a calm lake. However, while we were beached on a little island for a picnic, the clouds grew and billowed over the peak of Mt. Moran. Zac and I gave each other a look as if to indicate, “Look at that weather, we’d better start rolling,” so we did. The sky above continued to shine, but the clouds were darkening as they grew closer. We had half a mile before reaching camp on Grassy Island at the southern tip of Jackson Lake. I thought we could make it, but the weather had other plans. The wind picked up and within seconds it started to hail; it took all the energy we had to remain accurately pointed in our kayaks. We were all flailing about, and now the storm was nearly on top of us. We still had to get to camp, which I then noticed was conveniently located in the eye of the storm. Zac came rushing over and started helping each guest as we hauled the boats out of the water and on to our JRig (also known as, “Fatty,” the support boat for our operational equipment here in Wyoming). I remember struggling to communicate with folks in the water, paddling and talking while keeping an eye out behind me. All I saw was the silhouette of Zac lifting gear out of someone’s kayak and onto the rig. It was bright and shiny a half mile behind us, yet furious ahead and the lighting was remarkable. Once we were all safe on the JRig, we were able to motor to camp.

Read the rest of this entry »

Tweet This Post

Written by Ali McNabb

No Comments »

Ali McNabb Interview, Wyoming

June 21, 2010.

Ali McNabb is one of our adventurous Wyoming guides, a BBQ-loving gal originally from Austin, Texas. In addition to kayaking, she also enjoys bike riding, hiking and reading in her down time. McNabb worked previously at Trek American and has traveled abroad extensively in between seasons, mainly in Mexico, but also throughout South America, Turkey and Ethiopia.

1. How long have you been a guide?

I have been a guide for 5 years and been lucky in my guiding experience to have traveled throughout most of North America, exploring the most amazing National Parks and Provincial Parks imaginable.

Read the rest of this entry »

Tweet This Post

Written by Lauren de Remer

O.A.R.S.' Marketing Communications Coordinator & Waterblogged Editor

No Comments »

There Is Nothing So American As Our National Parks

October 5, 2009.

Of course I’ve been watching Ken Burns’ “The National Parks: America’s Best Idea.” (Haven’t you?) Living at the gates of Yosemite National Park and owner of a National Parks Pass nearly every year of my adult life, I feel it almost sacrilegious to miss this television event.

It is somehow fitting that my first transcendental wilderness experiences occurred at our country’s first national park – Yellowstone. Between my junior and senior years at college, a friend and I headed west for a two-month long road trip that took us to Yellowstone, Grand Teton and Badlands National Parks, as well as such unforgettable places as Devil’s Tower National Monument, the Oregon and California coastlines, the San Francisco Bay Area and the Mojave Desert.

I grew up in a small Ohio industrial town, where our rivers and streams were murky chocolate brown-red-gray in color, and nobody I knew dared eat the catfish caught there. We were discouraged from swimming in our streams. The Cuyahoga River, not far from my hometown, caught on fire in the summer of 1969. Clearly I grew up with a distorted concept of wilderness. At night, our town was typically shrouded under an eerie pinkish-orange glow, whether from the steel mills or shopping mall parking lots, I don’t know.

Read the rest of this entry »

Tweet This Post