They're the First to Come and The Last To Leave

Bleary-eyed at dawn we, the first team of volunteers for Kinetics, were out and about the Arcata Plaza at 5:30 setting up barricades, collecting cones and preparing the town square for the insurgence of the fabulous machines that make up the Kinetic Grand Championship. I have attended most sections of the three-day race over the years but my husband's shop schedule leaves me to my own devises, wandering the Plaza alone on Kinetic Saturday mornings. This year, I threw out the possibility of using my time wisely and volunteering. I thought I'd pitch in for a few hours and ended up doing far more....there were sites beyond the Plaza that had to be prepared. Although the sculptures are what most people see, the volunteers....the Site Coordinators and Ground Pounders make it happen.

Honestly, it was an honor to wear the official uniform of the Kinetic Accomplice - the glory extends widely to the Ground Pounders for they are the 'doozers". We pitched in where we're needed...we answered questions of Glorious Spectators like "where should we go to see the machines after this?" and "Where can we watch tomorrow?" My favorite was an elderly lady who asked if something was going on...."why, yes, yes there IS a race going on". "A bicycle race?"....Not exactly but CLOSE, ma'am." I wonder where she thought she was.

The Ground Pounders are the roadies....we did the set up and tear-down. The "first to come and the last to leave"..... It is the Ground Pounders that ask, with a smile, that Spectators pull "feet off the street" in preparation for the LeMans start of the race, and are sometimes met with scowls....yet we soldiered on, collecting our bribes from sculptures for a job well done. I cherish my bracelet from the registration Goddess Jen-0 as well as my boobie button from the Classical Nudes and others that accumulated on my shirt over the morning.

The fun of this event is like an inside joke that not everyone 'gets'. The costumes of the teams AND the volunteers raise the eyebrows of the uninvolved. So many people, mostly long-time residents I suspect, roll their eyes at the thought of the race, a clear violation of Rules 1 and 10. ** Facebook and Twitter comments mentioned "those people" more than once.....some people just don't get it but I'm glad I do. I'm grateful for Monica, Rutabaga Queen 2004 and Queen President 3 for this year, for getting us further involved in the race. Gloria has been 'entourage' since Monica ran for Queen so has been a Ground Pounder by default since she was pre-teen.

Sitting on the rocks watching the water entry on Day Two, I sat with two couples visiting from Sea Ranch who were having SO much fun. They got "it" .... Francis asking "honey, did you get a picture of that?" every few minutes as the sculptures peddled past, giggling like a teen at the numbness we were developing in our butts from sitting awkwardly on the cold rocks. It's fun to see that joy and enthusiasm. It's fun to HAVE that joy and enthusiasm..to see adults not ashamed to be silly. As was Hobart's intent, the race is intended for adults to have so much fun that kids want to grow up to be adults.

I hope that, when you attend special events anywhere, always be aware that someone, probably a BUNCH of someones, worked real hard so you could enjoy yourself. I just hope they have as much fun doing it as the Ground Pounders do.

** RULE #1: It is mandatory that all Sculpture Pilots, Pit Crew, Officials, Spectators, Law Enforcers, Communicators, Volunteers, Merchants, and even innocent bystanders put great effort into having great fun for it is such Craziness as this that keeps us all Sane! If you insist on being a grumpy racer and not having fun, you may declare "diplomatic immunity" (since you are surely from another planet) and not be cited by overly excited officials for that infraction, but we reserve the right to adjudicate any such declaration.(NOTE: Rule #1 repeats as Rule #10...it's THAT important).

ROCK ME ON THE WATER

While last Sunday's bob around Trinidad Head hardly made me fearless, it did toughen me. Prior to that paddle, anything other than a glassy surface would keep me from the water. To be out on the bay enjoying a smooth paddle, only to be caught off guard by the wake stirred up by a passing vessel would totally ruin the excursion. I am now much more daring. Of course, with courage comes the sore muscles that I'm still feeling a couple days later.

Each day, on the way south to the CR campus, we drive over the Elk River Slough. Often, the morning light tempts me to stop in a spot CHP would NOT approve of to record the sky reflected in the water. Looking east from the south bound lanes is pretty in the morning but the view disappears when you're driving northbound. Being ON the water is the only option. When I took up kayaking, I knew the Elk River Slough was a journey I wanted to take and, last Saturday, I got my wish.

This was a much smaller group - just five of us interested in the quiet paddle - but we made it back behind the mobile home park on the lower east side of Humboldt Hill. We paddled till the snags would allow us to paddle no further. We spooked a few cows grazing in the bottoms. While cows make for a bucolic scene, quite frankly their runoff made staying IN the boat the only option; I did not want to swim in that swill and don't much care for the idea of it flushing into my ocean but I suppose the fish have survived this long, right? Right?!Two and a half hours of pretty much constant strokes left my arms like noodles. As we exited the slough into the Bay, we felt mighty small as we watched the passage of a fuel barge and it's escorts then braved the chop whipped up by the wind to exit back on the beach on the North Spit. One more paddle survived and relished.