That's the way it was in '04 By Elmore Holmes December, 2004      Could be that I'm in a reflective mood, or perhaps I just can't think of anything else to write about this month.  Whatever the case, here it is: events of note in 2004.      In February, I drove down to Key Largo, Florida, for the annual Bogey and Bacall Canoe and Kayak Races.  I had visited Florida for an ocean race once before (the Captiva Classic in 2001), but this trip was a much richer experience because I got to spend several days before and after the races just paddling and exploring the bays, creeks, and lagoons.  It also was an epiphany for my girlfriend Martha, who before that trip had paddled only a handful of times in Memphis Harbor. Paddling in the Keys made her realize that our sport truly was worth her time and effort, and within a couple of months of our return to Memphis she had her own carbon-Kevlar touring boat and gear.  So I've won us a convert from the "muggles" population.      In early June, I surrendered the unofficial title of "fastest Memphian" to my friend and occasional training partner Wim.      It could have happened much earlier, actually.  Wim had looked very strong in Key Largo back in February, particularly in the six-mile race on the second day.  On a very windy day, paddling his big old Looksha II touring boat, Wim was pounding me and my Speedster surf ski pretty thoroughly until I managed to sneak by him in the last half-mile.  By the first of May, Wim had gotten himself a Thunderbolt racing kayak and finished right on my tail in the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race here at Memphis.  His wife Julie told me afterward that he had "really wanted to beat me."

Elmore's columns appear monthly at the Outdoors, Inc.,website: www.outdoorsinc.com

     At the end of July, I traveled with a group of Bluff City Canoe Club members to the North Fork of the White River in southern Missouri.  I always feel like I don't do enough for the canoe club, and maybe I'll remedy that this coming year as the club's chair of "Coastal Kayaking" (more about that in a later column), but this trip was a chance for me to contribute by leading a "river safety skills" clinic.
     Work on skills we did, but more importantly, we had a delightful time.  I'm always on the lookout for beautiful places within 150 miles of my home, and the spring-fed North Fork of the White did not disappoint.  The upper section, which flows within the boundaries of Mark Twain National Forest, was particularly lovely.  And the weather was surprisingly unoppressive for the middle of summer in the Mid South.

     In the late summer and early fall, I made several trips east to visit old whitewater haunts.
     My appearances on whitewater rivers have been exceedingly rare in recent years.  Part of the reason is my increased interest in open-water touring and racing, and another part is my long distance from whitewater and my malnourished travel budget since starting my own business four years ago.  But this year I found myself with a little time and a lot of desire, and my good buddy Travis, a Georgia native whom I've paddled with since our summer camp days, was beckoning.  So I got in the car and went.
     On my first trip, we ran the Nantahala and Ocoee Rivers.  On the Nantahala, Travis paddled with his girlfriend Mandy in an inflatable tandem canoe.  I was quick to make fun of Travis for paddling what was, in effect, a glorified duckie.  Mind you, I really don't have anything against duckies; I just enjoy making fun of Travis.
     The next two trips took place during an unusually rainy October.  We ran the always-engaging Section IV of the Chattooga, and then caught Little River Canyon in Alabama running at a beefy 10 inches on the Alabama 35 bridge gauge.  On these excursions I realized that while paddling on the Mississippi has kept me in fine physical shape, my mental fitness for whitewater has atrophied a bit.  I was a little shy around the big holes and drops, and I walked several rapids I'd run many times before.
     But I also rediscovered the incredible beauty in these two rugged gorges.  I want never to lose my grasp of whitewater skill entirely, if only to be able to visit these wonderful places again and again.

     The year two-double-naught-four is winding down, and soon it'll be time to make a new year's worth of memories.  My hopes are high: I plan to return to Florida in February, and possibly make a summer trip to the Rocky Mountains for the first time in four years.  It'll be fertile ground for high adventure.
     We paddlers generally excel at going out and making our lives anything but ordinary.  I encourage everybody reading this column to make sure 2005 is as memorable a year as any.