Whitewater

Envision deep narrow gorges and river paths carved by magma and water over the millennia. Greenery sprouting between the limestone and sedimentary rocks and boulders.  The gorge walls are high and bend creating surprising views as the river pops, flows and gurgles around the rubber seven-person raft.  The sun is shining on this warm September day, but does not always reach the river. The mix of shade and sun reflect off the water and basalt cliffs and dapples through the leaves of early autumn.    

This was the setting of my first whitewater rafting experience.  We are on a “small” tributary near the grand Columbia River Gorge.  A day spent amidst the roiling currents with lifelong friends – four mothers who, three decades earlier, first stepped into the shared boat of parenthood. We were 37+ year-old, successful professional women, learning to navigate a whole different kind of whitewater - being first-time mothers.  Our children were born in the same week, and we were brought together by a volunteer organization focused on supporting new mothers. 

Once the program was finished, Michelle, Deborah and Jonetta became my crew, and navigated every rapid of motherhood by my side. Sleepless nights, balancing work, baby and spouses, first teeth, daycare, kindergarten, Halloween, Easter Egg hunts, birthday parties, grade school, middle school, high school and college, widowhood, divorce, wine, wine and more wine.

They say if you grip the paddle too tight, you lose the rhythm of the water.  Over the next 30 years of moves, growth and transformation, we gripped our paddles and never lost the rhythm of our friendship.  Our paddles still glide together every 12-24 months when we reunite.  We are still in the same boat, and the current is beautiful.

Two months before our Glamping trip across the Cascades Mountains into western Washington, Michelle emailed me with this idea to go whitewater rafting.  She reached out to me first because I am not known for my “outdoor” inclinations – thus we were Glamping – not camping. I am the “weak” link in this foursome from this perspective.  Michelle has climbed Mount Ranier and cycled across Italy.  Deborah is a runner with whitewater rafting experience.  And Jonetta is a camper and cyclist.  They are all outdoor enthusiasts. I make wall hangings and write – so I sit. I know that this rafting experience is perfect for my friends, I’m not sure about me – but I agreed to it.  I told myself: “This will be fun – right?”

I spent the next few weeks not thinking about rafting over rapids.  I encouraged myself - “Just do it!  Grab the Gusto!”  thinking of other inane catch phrases. Then it came time to read and sign all the danger warnings and release forms.  Oh, I was in – but still not thinking about it.

After spending the night in our fabulous Glamping “Tents” (Queen beds, 5 layers of linen, showers and toilets in each of our canvas tents), the big day came.  We arrived at the rafting base camp.  I took a Xanax in the parking lot, to help me smooth out my anxiety. 

First, we geared-up: a “clean” wet suit, zippered wet shoes, life jacket and helmet over our bathing suits. The cold and clammy wet suit and shoes were a first for me.  Being “rubberish” – the suit did not really breathe or ventilate – and it did not take long to realize it emanated stink. (Could that be me?)  I was anxious, but had never smelled anything quite like this super, duper body stink before. They don’t tell you about that in the danger warnings or releases.  Being “rubberish”, the odor had nowhere to go but up the neck hole, straight to my nostrils. This suit put the word FUN into FUNK. “Just part of the overall experience” I mused to myself. 

We were then bussed to the river and given a quick tutorial; sitting, rowing, following commands, what happens if you are tossed overboard and swept down the river, etc.  Our raft was two people short and two wonderful 30-something guys volunteered to raft with the four 60-something gals.  I will never forget Sam.  He and his cohort were placed in the bow of the raft.  I readily admitted to being the least athletic of our group, and was placed in the stern in front of the guide.  Sam gave me his arm and hand on numerous occasions and helped me navigate boat entry, exit and our portage. I told him his mother would have been proud of his attentiveness. 

We launched into the current! Mixed with the sounds of the river, the river guide pronounced commands: “Paddles up! Wedge your feet! Kneel down!  Sit back up! Paddle forward! Left side paddle hard!” My body responded – although at 66 – my movements felt uncoordinated, labored and slow – but I was keeping up!  The noise from my knees and hips added to the orchestral sounds of the river. 

Hours passed on the glorious river adventure.  We experienced nature, water, excitement, beauty, laughter, and the pride of well-executed team rafting through currents and rapids.  What a day! I was thrilled that I overcame my doubts (and the smells of the suit) and believed in myself!  Working as a team felt so natural for us 60- somethings, anchored by our 30-something bow-men and our guide. 

There was an opportunity presented to end our individual journeys early, and not raft down the last set of rapids (with a twelve-foot waterfall). One of my friends decided to take this option and skip the final rapids. Meanwhile, I listened to two different voices in my head: “Don’t do it!  Leave with Deborah!” and “You are OK, you’ve made it thus far!  Go for it!”  I surprised everyone and rafted the final falls.

The waterfall was roaring.  The guide was yelling commands.  Water was splashing and foaming.  We maneuvered between the large boulders positioned on both sides of the raft.  Suddenly, the raft tipped downward in what felt like a 90-degree angle, as we crested the top of the waterfall and plunged forward.  The raft went straight down and we were fully immersed under the water. I felt the sharp intake of breath before the drop, and then a collective surge of joy as we popped back up to the surface - paddles in hand, completely drenched and exhilarated.  

It was a whitewater win!  I beat my own trepidations by trusting the guide, my friends and myself. Metaphorically and in reality, we four mothers, had once again, successfully rafted through the spray of the rapids, avoided the rocks, stayed afloat and held on to our paddles!  We each felt the true exuberance of our lasting bond.

Later that night, we made s’mores around the Glamping campfire and raised a glass of wine (or two).  We felt alive and thankful to be together.

Envision the ever-changing deep and narrow gorges and life paths carved over the last three decades by the love and support of four women on a tributary of motherhood and friendship.  Now, we are on to our next adventure!