An Unusual Story of Friendship
by David E. Morine, 2009
Great true story about David (Bugsy) and Ramsay’s paddling adventure down the Connecticut River from source to sea in June of 2003. Rather than camp each night, they decided to “rely on the kindness of strangers,” and enlisted 27 “strangers” to put them up each night.
Also, Ramsay was an unbelievable jerk. How this saint, Dave ‘Bugsy’ Morine, put up with him for 400 miles, I will never understand. Ramsay would run them aground every time there was a bend in the river, because he refused to listen to reason and stay on the outside of the bend where the current was running. Dave decided right off not to press his point and instead put up with the jerk, even though he was the one that had to get out of the canoe and wrestle it free from the bank. Also, Dave would want to tour some of the historical sites but Ramsay never allowed it. Dave would want to stop and eat lunch and tour a town, or he wanted to take the tour of the brewery offered by one of their hosts, but Ramsay would say No and rudely walk away. Ramsay drank beer all day and smoked Carlton’s every chance he got. The only people he was really nice to were good-looking young ladies. He was despicable. Then, a few months after they were finished, Ramsay called Dave and asked if he would go striper fishing with him and Dave said not yet. A little while later, Ramsay killed himself. Dave writes, “Most of all, I was mad that Ramsay would lay such a guilt trip on me, that he still might be alive if only I’d gone striper fishing with him.” Don’t you feel guilty, Dave! That guy was a selfish, narcissistic, arrogant, odious prick! I’m sorry, but I think you are a saint for putting up with him as long as you did!
From page 229: “There are seventeen dams on the Connecticut River. All the dams are degrading, but the one at Holyoke is the worst by far: dirty and disgusting, like a ball of hair clogging up a drain. Most of the river above the Holyoke Dam is rated Class B, “somewhat swimmable, but never drinkable.” By the time it oozes its way over Holyoke Dam, the water is downgraded to Class C, as in Crap.”
From page 253: “Having made it through the slime of Springfield [Massachusetts] and then a day of solid rain, we were feeling pretty good. Even the river was feeling more like its old self. The banks were wooded, the water was clear, and the two eagles we’d seen huddled in a tree the day before were circling high above us. The river looked a lot like the secion from Sumner Falls to Windsor, Vermont, which was still our favorite.
“The primary reason the river seemed rejuvenated was simple: no more dams. From Enfield to Long Island Sound, the Connecticut was its own master. Whatever power it could muster, it kept. This sense of entitlement had given it back some of its virility. The smell, the globs of chemical foam, and the dead fish all were gone. Rivers can’t survive unless they’re constantly moving. That’s how they breathe. Flowing free had given the Connecticut a chance to take a deep breath and clean out its lungs.”
From page 255: “That came as no surprise. Behind every great project is some bulldog who just won’t take no for an answer. While everyone else thinks they’re crazy, these people keep pushing ahead, making calls, twisting arms, going to meetings until finally even the biggest naysayers become true believers. Joe Marfuggi had to be one of those people. His vision had taken hold; Hartford’s waterfront was becoming an integral part of the community and was pulling the entire city up with it.”
Great book even though I’m disgusted with one of the people in it. Great title, too! Although, it should have been “One Coot in a Canoe and One Asshole Buried Along the Way.” (That was from my husband, Wayne.)