The Wrath
Colin, Mark, Trevor, Jimmy, and one ill-advised Alumacraft 12. The original sin. Nobody dies, but nobody walks away unchanged either.
Seventeen years of paddling, posturing, and primitive survival on the Llano. Each chapter earned in mud, beer, and questionable decisions.
Colin, Mark, Trevor, Jimmy, and one ill-advised Alumacraft 12. The original sin. Nobody dies, but nobody walks away unchanged either.
Introduction of the Riptide. The roster swells: Adam, BK, Dugie, Stuart, Trent join the originals. A doctrine begins to form around the fire.
After a winter of unfounded bragging, the committee returns to settle scores. The first formal PSR scrolls are written. Subzero temps. One man forgets a sleeping bag.
Formation of the Texas River Rafting Peddling Paddlers of Texas. A man enters the chapel, but only after the chutes have had their say.
Entry fees, collectibles, and raffles introduced. The Robes debut, and a new strain of unhinged ceremony is born.
Officially: the Texas National Historic Spring Llano River Run of America. Unofficially: an escape. The world was on fire; we were on water.
Rules were briefly suspended. Limbs were briefly compromised. Nobody remembers who won. Everyone remembers.
Multiple put-ins, conflicting plans, divine intervention. Somehow everyone ended up at the same campfire.
The helicopter. The dildo. We will not be elaborating in print.
James Poole, the Legend, arrives. Shells were thrown, banana peels deployed, lightning bolts wielded. A new era of theme begins.
Headbands, neon, and questionable wardrobe choices. Tony Romo would have approved.
Seventeen years deep. Capped at 35. Same river, same nonsense, slightly older knees. The best one yet.