Over The Waterfall
Over the years, I’ve had a few close calls with Death. We’ve never shaken hands, but we’ve fist bumped a time or two.
I was in the Boy Scouts of America for my entire childhood, achieving the rank of Eagle Scout before I turned 18. I know that the organization has been in the news lately for numerous unsavory reasons, but I am fortunate to have been involved in great troops with exceptional leadership. I found many opportunities to explore the wilderness, improve my skills, and most importantly, light my farts on fire. Thanks, BSA!
In addition to attending scout camp every summer, there were occasional opportunities to go on “High Adventure” trips. High Adventure trips generally refer to excursions which take place in any of four main facilities owned by BSA. These special locations offer more extreme scouting opportunities, which make regular summer camp look as exciting as tying your shoes. Typically these constitute week-long trips into the wilderness with little to no extra underwear, and involve stops at various camps, each of which offers a different extreme activity. I have had the (white) privilege to go on two of these, and they are extremely awesome. EXTREME!!!
There are also High Adventure camps besides the ones owned by BSA. One of these non-BSA camps is the Maine High Adventure base along the Allagash River, which I had the good fortune to attend. Our excursion was a week-long, 107-mile canoe trip during which we traveled north from Penobscot, Maine until we reached the Canadian border. (Fun fact: The Allagash river is one of the few that run from south to north… ok I get it. You don’t care.) We stayed on our side of the divide, except for when we crossed illegally to urinate on a small Canadian island. Mr, Trudeau, please don’t take this as an act of war. The trip was a fantastic opportunity to learn about building fires, packing out trash, making as little natural impact as possible, seeing moose, and even jumping off waterfalls. Oh, and lighting farts on fire. Of course.
Halfway through our trip, we had to portage around the Allagash Falls. Portage is a fancy French word for putting a canoe on your head and trying not to run into trees while carrying it for what feels like eternity. I wanted to go directly over the wall of stone and water, but that idea got vetoed. After carrying our canoes around the “danger,” we stopped at the water’s edge for a midday break. At the waterfall, the river broke into two paths; the larger flow went directly over the falls, and the second was a small but quickly-moving stream that flowed over a fairly steep rock. The stream basically turned the rock into a natural waterslide, which our guide informed us we could access by swimming to a small island at the bottom of the larger falls. This wasn’t supposed to be as dangerous as it sounds, and we were all wearing life vests. It's like a bulletproof vest but for drowning! Or, that’s what I believed anyway.
I was the first one to swim for the slide. I was an amped-up young teen trying to show everyone how cool I was-- that’s what you do when you’re around a bunch of pre-pubescent guys. I excitedly maneuvered through the quickly-moving stream, climbed up on the island, and jumped onto the smooth rock. The force of the water and slick moss rocketed me to the pool at the bottom. The feeling was exhilarating, and way better than my neighbor’s lame water slide at home. Per our guide’s advice, I swam to the other side of the river rather than returning to the island. After using nature’s amusement park, it was easier to swim to the mainland and walk beside the stream to repeat the ride. I was exhausted from canoeing and swimming, and happily took advantage of efficiency and energy savings. Was I a refrigerator? The other boys joined me, and we took turns throwing ourselves recklessly down the slide for the better part of an hour, until the guide told us we had to head back to our gear and continue our journey onward. I was tuckered out after all the fun, but thought I had it in me to take one last ride. I jumped in, ready to head back across the river and over to the canoes. As I reached the pool at the bottom of the slide, I barely had a chance to start swimming before the current of the stream pushed me underwater and pinned me against a cliff wall. So much for the drown-proof vest.
I vividly remember being trapped: I was more than ten feet underwater, looking up at the sunbeams warping and shining down through the water. It was beautiful in a “this could be the last thing I ever see” kind of way. The pressure of the water flowing over my body was immense, and adrenaline rushed in bringing all my senses into overdrive. I felt like Neo from The Matrix, but at the bad part where he gets shot by a big-ass hand cannon and it looks like he’s about to die. At that moment, I accepted that these would be my last moments alive on Earth, and horrible images filled my head: I imagined my dad and brother, helpless on the shoreline, wondering what had happened to me. I thought of them having to tell my mom and sister, and what the tragedy of my premature death would do to my family. In what I thought would be my last moments, I prayed to God, Mother Earth, and everything else out there that I wouldn’t drown. Stupid, broken “life” vest.
After what felt like two forevers, the stream finally pushed me away from the wall and into the main river. I was free! The water in this section was only moving in one direction, and the buoyancy of my life vest pulled me to the surface of the water. Feeling the air fill my lungs was better than finding out I’d passed a test I thought I bombed. Way better. I was so thankful for escaping certain death, but there was still a fast-moving river to get across. If I didn’t make it to shore in time, the river would sweep me into class two rapids in only my life vest. Talk about rump bumpin. The fear had mostly subsided, but my adrenaline was still pumping. Now I felt like a resurrected Neo, ready to take on the agents. Wasting no time, I struggled over to the shore with our canoes, and dragged myself onto the grassy ledge and out of the clutches of the treacherous river. My arms were too tired to hold me, and I immediately fell on my face. As I rolled over to spit dirt out of my mouth, a smile spread across my face. I was wrong about dying! Woohoo!
Over the next few minutes, everyone else made it back safely. WITHOUT ANY TROUBLE! I was not as good of a swimmer as I thought. They all seemed relieved, no one more than my dad and brother. Looking back on it, our guide was probably also relieved to find out no one died on his watch. After hugs all around, my dad told me that I was under for about ten seconds (only ten! It felt like so much longer.), but he was about to jump in after me. I am so thankful I surfaced in time to keep him from endangering himself. It was terrifying, but after a moment on the beach around people that cared, I started to feel pretty happy. A mixture of love, attention, relief, and the adrenaline dump put me in a weird state of bliss. Is that why people use drugs? I kept thinking about how fragile I was, how quickly things can go wrong, and how happy I would be to be back at home in a few days, at home with people I love. Or would at least be glad I hadn’t drowned.
Thinking I was going to die was one of the worst things I’ve ever been through, but afterwards I had a little bit more appreciation for my life and the people in it. Now when I look back on the trip, I still remember the positives before the negatives: seeing a family of moose, playing cards around the camp table, using the legendary Tilted Toilet (Crooked Crapper, Leaning Latrine, Shifted…etc.), and lighting farts on fire. This trip taught me how extreme High Adventure really is. Now I know that sometimes when you play with fire, you end up shitting your pants. Or drowning. Eh, you get the point.
What is dead may never die!
Anyways, here’s my recipe for mousse.
Ingredients:
Really? A pun recipe? Oh, deal with it. I survived a near drowning, so you can survive one bad joke. Besides, between a near death experience, an actual moose, and a recipe for mousse, we don’t have time to sweat the small stuff. Welcome to the big leagues. You can choose right now to either step up into the batter’s box, or hold the bat for the eventual champion that will. In actual baseball, I never got a hit, but in metaphor baseball, I hit grand slams. I’m just trying to tell you to stick with it. And also, you get to eat chocolate. No-brainer.
1½ Cups Heavy Cream
4 Egg Yolks
¼ Cup Granulated Sugar
4 oz Semi-Sweet Chocolate
4 oz Unsweetened Chocolate
2 Tbsp Powdered Sugar
Raspberries (optional)
Mint (optional)
Equipment:
This one is a little more complicated, but it is still very achievable. People will tell you to melt chocolate in a double boiler, but I always do it on VERY LOW direct heat. You can make it work with the tools you got, if you’re careful. Say it with me: VERSATILITY!
Small Pot (to melt chocolate)
Dutch Oven/Large Pot
Standing Mixer
Whisk
Wooden Spoon
Active prep total: 30 minutes
Clean up: 15 minutes
This takes a little coordination and timing. I recommend reading through all the instructions ahead of time to get an idea of how it will work. The term “Mise en place” is a fancy way of saying “get out all the materials before you start.” In this case, it is a good idea so you don’t have to rummage around cabinets while chocolate is melting.
Instructions:
Start by melting the 4 oz Semi-Sweet Chocolate and 4 oz Unsweetened Chocolate together. Place your chocolate in the Small Pot on low heat. If you are using bars, cut them up into smaller pieces so they make more contact with the pan. Stir it around occasionally, and be patient as it may take some time to melt. As long as it is happening slowly, the chocolate will not burn. IF THE CHOCOLATE BURNS, YOU NEED TO ASK FOR FORGIVENESS. That is a terrible thing you’ve done. Do not burn the chocolate. Keep it low and slow.
While the chocolate is melting, combine ¾ Cup Heavy Cream, 4 Egg Yolks, and ¼ Cup Sugar in the Dutch Oven on medium heat. Stir for 1-2 minutes until it coats the back of a spoon. Remove from heat and stir for another couple minutes. The goal here is to thicken it up without cooking the eggs. Do not let it boil. If you think it’s too hot, IT IS. Turn down the heat and keep it slow. Low and slow, remember? I literally just said it.
Add the melted chocolate to the Dutch Oven, constantly stirring as you do. The heat from the chocolate won’t cause problems if you continue stirring. Stir, stir, stir! Arms hurt? Good. Now it's a work out. You’ll get a great reward soon. When the chocolate is fully incorporated, stop stirring (whew.) and let it cool.
Put the whisk attachment on your stand mixer, and whip ¾ Cup Heavy Cream for a couple minutes until you are at the soft peaks stage. It looks tempting, but don’t stick your fingers in it. Add in 2 Tbsp Powdered Sugar, and continue whipping to stiff peaks. This should only take 20-30 seconds.
When the Dutch Oven Chocolate mixture is completely cooled, you’ll need to gently fold the whipped cream in. Add the whipped cream to the Dutch Oven, and slowly use your wooden spoon to pull the chocolate up from the bottom, over the whipped cream, and into a cohesive mousse. I repeat: Do this slowly. The texture of this mousse relies on the airiness of intact whipped cream. Mixing too hard will cause the air bubbles to collapse, and the fancy French mousse will become boring old pudding. No one wants that.
Now you have mousse. Duh. Move it (gently) into another container for the fridge, or start eating it right now! The mousse will be very soft at room temperature, and very hard after being in the fridge. The next time you eat it, I recommend letting the bowl sit out for 20 minutes or so before serving. If you take it out before eating dinner, it will be ready by the time dinner is over, and you will look like you planned this with the foresight of a NASA engineer.
It took a few steps, a little coordination, and a love of chocolate, but now you are mounting the culinary alps! Don’t wait to dig in. Those chocolatey peaks are just asking to be conquered. Add a little hint of nature by garnishing with a few raspberries, and maybe a mint leaf. You will find a harmonious balance with the fruit and chocolate, and revelations will come to you easily. You realize this is a meditation: the food is telling you that life is powerful, rich, and delicate. The pain was a path, and you deserve the happiness of your destination. Don’t forget to stop and smell the Shifted Shitter.