Tomsawyering the Rhône

Maybe the idea was formed when we saw the swiss guy throw his waterproof
backpack into the warm but swift waters of the Rhone and then himself leap
in and swim after it, on some kind of evening river "hike"; or maybe it
was just the exuberant feeling of having that river pull us along after
jumping on Thursday that made us want to go further. In any case, it was
decided when we saw that little boat in Carrefour.

Kenny and I each slapped down twenty francs ("just think -- if we just moved out of our
room, we could buy all this ridiculous stuff *every day*!") and then we
were off to the River, us two and Adam, for our scheduled bridge-jumping,
us inflating the boat (christened as Artemis, or maybe Artemis I, after, well, Artemis) by lungpower at the bus stop (carrying the
half-inflated thing on the bus itself), applying sunscreen in central
geneva while waiting for the number eleven.

At the river of course the
current looked stronger than before, the boils more menacing, and the
kayakers' helmets were vaguely foreboding. But we resolved to throw in
our little boat, swim after it, and boldy go with full foolhardiness we
had no idea where to -- "downstream" being the short but not particularly
helpful answer. This is exactly what we did, passport, CERN ID, and a few
coins wrapped in plastic bags pilfered from the co-op; and this big
pervading sense of adventure and of the mysterious territory ahead. Our
mission was now clear: enter France by the river. Fort l'Ecluse,
MARSEILLES OR BUST.

There was the shockingly cold, silt-filled waters of
the Arve, Kenny navigating by the bus map (which proved to quite
misrepresent river width -- and thereby speed), each of us our 50g ration
of liquid chocolate, cross-river chatting with Ohio kayakers ("HEY - Does
the river get any rougher up ahead??") napping half submurged and half
lying up on the warm raft, and finally pulling out at the Autoroute
("hmm.. 2km of motorway tunnel..we can walk that, right?"), trudging
overland to the nearest bus stop, getting back to CERN in time for a late
arrival at the Hardronic Festival, an adventure in anticlimax. All in all,
it's just another day at Camp CERN.

Then we went home with the band.