On my first-ever float trip three summers ago, I was ill prepared, to say the least. Nobody told me beforehand that river beds were made of sharp, pointy rocks (how would a city gal like me know that?), so I didn't think there was any reason to pack moccasins or other appropriate, sole-saving footwear. I didn't realize that three grown adults sharing a canoe could mean capsizing trouble, especially when one of those people happens to be a helluva drunk, or that a bikini top fastened together with a flimsy plastic clasp could be brought down (literally) by a single, low-hanging branch along the riverbank. (Thankfully, a friend in another boat brought along an extra sports bra. Otherwise, I might still be standing out there in the Meramec, holding my capsized canoe to my chest and looking around desperately for... More >>>