You Know What They Do When You Can't Walk Anymore

I've been fooling around with my kayak - with the fish-finder, because it seems to have decided it gets to choose when it will work and when it won't.  I believe the problem was all the sand that settled into the water bath the last few times I failed to negotiate a landing in six inch surf and let my kayak get swamped by the next wave.

My plan was for sea trials to see if clearing out the sand had fixed it, but since the sea isn't cooperating the next best plan was for lake trials.  I loaded it up and headed out but it would have been wiser if I'd checked to see if the wind was cooperating.  It wasn't.  A 20 MPH wind is only okay if it's blowing in the general direction of the ramp.  It wasn't.  Quite the opposite, in fact.

I had the whole morning to myself and I wasn't ready to head home to let the dogs think the pitiful yowling they'd done as I left the house could have any effect on how long I'd be gone, so I decided I'd head up a river and see what I could do about harassing some trout.  Without using the kayak.  It's a small river.

There's a spot where there's a deep, calm pool sandwiched between two sets of rapids.  It's a pretty spot - nice enough to make the hike enjoyable even if I don't manage to catch anything - and I headed for it.  One has to walk along a bank covered with with cantaloupe-sized cobblestones and then ford the river just above the downstream set of rapids to reach the pool.  It's not a terribly tricky crossing; it's not skipping from rock to rock, and I cross far enough above the rapids that I'm still walking on gravel, but the current is a bit energetic.

Three quarters of the way across, I tossed my gear bag (I only keep my flies and a couple of spools of leader/tippet line in it) onto the opposite bank so I could use both arms for balancing myself, and that's when I discovered that neoprene kayaking boots are not a good substitute for wading boots, because tossing the gear bag put me just far enough off balance and the boots refused to make enough purchase on the gravel... and down I went.

It did no good to try to stand up again because I couldn't dig my toes into the bottom and after four tries and four failures, I was at the head of the fast-moving water and was just along for the ride.

I started swimming competitively when I was 7 years old and had a partial scholarship for swimming as an undergraduate.  I've been a lifeguard and an ocean rescue swimmer.  Although I don't kid myself that I'm still a strong swimmer, being in strong currents and unfriendly water isn't a mystery to me.  There's another, deeper, pool at the bottom of the rapids where I could swim to the bank if I just rode it out.  So I did.

In any other circumstance, and if the water had been warmer, it might have been fun.  Staying in the chute and keeping my legs out front was all that concerned me at the time, but it was much like being on a bumpy water slide.

Dumped into the pool and having reached the bank - the wrong bank - I still had everything with me that I had when it all began.  Fly rod, car keys, soggy wallet, cell phone.  I was chalking it up in the WIN column when I remembered my gear bag was upstream and on the far bank, so upriver I went.

I was pretty chilly and decided I could go home without giving the dogs the wrong idea about their power over me, so I left the fly rod and my car keys at the trail that goes back to where I'd parked, hiked to the pool, forded the river, retrieved the gear bag, started across again and went down again.  In the same exact spot.

The ride wasn't anywhere near the same neighborhood of fun as it had been the first time.  I chalk it up to my reflexes having slowed down because I was well chilled, but I kept banging my butt on rocks I'd managed to not bang it on the first time down the chute.

Back to the lower pool, out of the water again - limping this time - I struggled over the cobblestones, recovered my fly rod, and rejoiced at the thought that car seats are padded and not just planks of wood.

Twenty minutes later, back home, I had a hard time getting out of the truck.  Oh, it would have been fine if all I had to do was swivel and slide out, but it doesn't work that way.  I had to lift my legs to clear the door and my posterior objected to being asked to do that, so it took a while to step out.

Standing up again, I managed to get into the house walking straight legged - like Karloff doing Frankenstein - and thanked my lucky stars for the porch rails at the one and only step up onto the back deck.  Half an hour after that and finally out of my wet clothes, I looked in the mirror at my poor, abused keister and the lower end of it and the upper end of my legs were already a technicolor display.  It'll be a few days before I'm again able to walk with alacrity, and the hundred-yard dash is definitely out of the question.

Sometimes it's a good idea to go home, no matter what the dogs may think - and if you have to ford a river, it's best to not to wear your neoprene kayaking booties.

Tinker,
Go get checked for a,broken tailbone or a dislocated disk/cracked lumbar vertebrae ASAP. Tell doc exactly what happened.  It may just be severe bruising, but take no chances. DAMHIK, the symptoms you describe point to deeper issues.
Ice packs on your back side for 20,minutes at a time, followed by gentle stretches. Hot soak in heavy epsom salt bath before bed.
Get to the doc.

I shall certainly consider your recommendation, and thank you for the suggestion.  I would more likely than not be there already if that were the part of my heiny taking the bumps on the way downriver.  It wasn't, but I'll certainly keep watch over the entire structure and not just ignore it if anything changes.

If you do go in and get checked, make sure you have a co driver. Toradol and or Demerol work great relieve your stiffness, but you won't be in any condition to drive home.