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Remember how my canoe leaked? This was one of the tests of its
river-worthiness after patching. Dry as a bone.
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Our outfitter: The Gilbert Store in Gilbert, Arkansas.
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Inside.
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Yeah, another waterfall; in fact, the most spectacular one on the river, Hemmed-in Hollow Falls. It's 210 feet high and creates its own little storm system at the bottom, complete with soaking 30-mph winds.
Oh, and remember how my boat no longer leaked? It leaked. My repairs were only slightly better than useless after it had scraped over rocks a few times (bad resin mix, a friend said). So I tried bubble gum on a few of the larger holes:
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Believe it or not it worked--for a few hours. After that I was always bailing.
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Chuck: She was a magificent sight flying into camp, but other than that a complete bust nobility of nature-wise. Unless food was involved she never moved more than a few feet the whole time we were there. Had some sob story about how the other ducks hated her because
Update: The Drunkawife demands that I post a pic of the "cute" duck we saw in Spain, in the really cool palm grove in Elche to be exact:
![](http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/708/657/400/odd_duck_2.0.jpg)
Smug little bastard: Well, Chuck is smarter than this fop, anyway. How'd you like I mess up that beak for ya, pretty boy?
Update II: No, I don't really know what sex the ducks are. Perverts.
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