McArthur Burney Falls
Noone expects such wonderful falls when travelling on Hiway 89. The falls look like they belong in Maui or in a painting but not here in Northern California. Although the river is typically dry a mile upstream during the Summer months, the falls thunder over the cliff all year round. They do so, because they are fed by underground springs. The waterfall pool and viewing area is an easy walk from the parking lot, and the cold spray is a welcome treat for wilted, travel-wearing children. It works better than a popsicle.
Ahh , water. Here is Clare drinking water in Yosemite on the trail to Cathedral Lakes:
Can a mammal go without peeing in a 24 hour period? One year at music camp, our friend Steve decided to test this theory. Music camp in Santa Cruz was a week-long adventure in the mountains where you could swim and do archery and get really dusty and sing and play an instrument in an orchestra. You would then do a concert for your parents on the last day when they came up to fetch you. Once at music camp we sang a song called If by the 70s band, Bread:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt6VTYKsKD7SHtkk5ge6e-KhCP-FzoffDTAFTX4AneTto5Brit3-4PJiE9YS2YwrSFe01iOX3_McFPC-KDwaMYdspRW9hM8ideuIFQcibf4k8pFx7H1aLjE7KtuBhPj3MX4CDUl3KzyBK/s400/Unknown.jpeg)
The lyrics were:
If a picture paints a thousand words, then why can't I paint you? The words will never show the you I've come to know.
For those of you unfamiliar with this song, please take heed and never, ever listen to it. I'm begging you. The melody and the lyrics are intensely depressing and will bring you down faster than gravity. You have been warned.
Anyway, Steve played the cello at music camp. He was one of those cello players who would stick out his tongue when he played. You know the type. Back home he once played a Communion meditation at mass. It was a piece by Bach. The music was lovely, but Steve's tongue sticking out made his mouth look like the capital letter "Q." All of us, including the priest, were in stitches. He was actually really good, because he could do vibrato before he had turned 13! Doing vibrato involves shaking your hand on the strings to make your tone sound really pretty. For a preteen like myself, being able to do vibrato and shake your hand like that defined musical greatness.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawJNTPD4J-DzuhkOLMTHXTbRGUxpposX0UlqQp-4V8uFxjmFRl-Z9Wq-uJXfOV9kUngs4N5OGvdJ82KEMdUOkNAxEcAKEVqR5a8ee0JDdT7W2CLINXiCHKoZpszUEQ6aFaO55bnttPaY0/s400/images-2.jpeg)
Yoyo Ma (a mammal) demonstrating vibrato
He is very good at it!
Back to the peeing. Steve bet some other campers that he could go 24 hours without peeing. He would be monitored closely so he could not cheat, and if he succeeded he would make 10 dollars. He peed the last time at midnight as his cabinmates excitedly yelled, "On your mark, get set, go!" indicating the start of the 24 hour period.
In the morning Steve ate oatmeal and a banana and skipped the orange juice and milk. He skipped the morning snack after orchestra practice, and at lunch he took a hike in the heat wearing a sweatshirt so he could sweat out his urine. This seemed to be a smart approach, I thought. By dinner time he was complaining of growing discomfort in his lower belly, but interestingly, he also complained of thirst. That was weird.
By 10 pm the camp excitement was mounting as word spread about Steve's endeavor. He paced around the floor of the cabin then would sit in a chair and pound his feet up and down like someone trying to hold his breath as long as possible. Other campers were gathering round and asking questions like, "Could he burst?" or "Is this safe?" In general, though, Steve seemed to be winning the admiration of all the campers in the string section and even some of the woodwind players.
In the last 15 minutes before midnight Steve was running around the swimming pool with his hands tightly squeezing his crotch, and all the the other campers were running with him. Many tried to assist him by clearing people out of the way and yelling words of encouragement. "Just don't think of water," they said, or "Squeeze harder!" One of the drummers brought out some bongos and was playing some kind of Tiki-dance music.
In the last minute the entire camp did a countdown from 60 as Steve ran to the edge of a hillside and started screaming. At midnight exactly he unabashedly whipped out his wienie and let loose a stream of urine which arched toward the starry sky in a magnificent parabola which shot over the manzanitas and ended up sprinkling the volleyball courts at the bottom of the hill. Everyone sighed "Oooooh!" like they do when they watch pretty fireworks.
Steve peed for 4 minutes straight. When he finished he zipped himself up and everyone broke into rapturous applause. Steve took a bow. He then went to his cabin, drank some water, put on his pajamas and climbed into bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment