My dog and I took a long walk along the river today. The Fraser is at its natural banks, high enough to wash out the horse trail nearest it and make the ducks and frogs happy as a mall cop with a taser and a confiscated bag of weed in his top pocket.
High water reminds me of my days working on the river, sorting and feeding logs to a doomed sawmill in a much better time to be working in one. Working on the boom was an easy life except in spring. In the spring things got a little stressful as the guys battled the river for possession of the logs. Most of the time we won but other times we watched the logs, sometimes entire booms, make their way to the sea. Most of the time our boats kept floating, other times they found the bottom. Most of the time the barges of woodchips stayed under control, other times they fucked off and crushed everything in their path. The river is a motherfucker when it rises.
Guys on the river can talk a blue streak at the best of times but in the spring they do not use much more than cuss talk when they are fighting the river.
"Motherfucking cocksucking son of bitch!"
"Cocksucking motherfucking son of a shitfuck fuckshit whore!"