On the South Fork American River, there exist two rival photographers. Each produces some fine pics on some classic rapids. I won’t choose sides. (But I will say that I like Hotshots’ angle on Satan better, and that I like Vita-B’s angle on Hospital better… but Troublemaker is up for grabs). They perch atop the boulders of the mighty Satan’s Cesspool and Hospital Bar. And they laugh at you all day long. Anyways, I love ’em both. Great people, great attitudes, great laughs. And both equally harassable. I leave them love notes on their vehicles:
Vita-B, aka Whitewater Photography. A clean truck has no place in the Sierra Foothills.
Hotshots: “that awkward moment when the rag DOES smell like chloroform.” Please note that the van has no windows other than the front.
So if you’re actually reading this because I’m totally awesome and you found this site looking for answers, BAM: go buy their photos. But I can’t guarantee that you’ll look pretty.
So I see these folks fairly often. They come off the water sometimes stressed, rushed, or uncomfortable. They have a deadline to meet. They have to get the photos back quickly to expedite business. I like to bring them goodies – food, drinks, cookies – to try to make things a little better. Plus, they always provide a laugh, so the small investment is very worthwhile. But if you give a riverrat potato chips, he will molest you. Third most invasive hug ever. I got leg-humped. But then I realized, I was actually hip-humped. And since that’s where you’re supposed to hump, I just got humped. I got humped. SAD FACE.
… river people.