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| Veronica surrounded by the strength of 11 Rockwoods, Snake River |
The lady at the counter handed me a 5'2'' purple wetsuit. How did she know about me and purple? This was my first tip-off that it was going to be a great day, and that for better or worse, (worse being my ultimate demise) I was about to make an important crossover in my life. I was already being rewarded for casting aside my fear of white water rafting.
We loaded into a retired school bus for a bumpy ride to the Snake River. Nothing about the bus driver seemed especially creepy until he took us deep into an abysmal mountainside downpour, closer and closer to Snake River.
"Where do you think he keeps the chainsaw?" I whispered to Steve, not unlike a fourth grader riding a school bus.
The bus zigzagged down the mountainside and stopped at a soggy beach with hammering rain. A streak of blue windbreaker bounded on board. Below its dripping hood we could see a mustache frame a broad smile. "How much does a polar bear weigh??" He left a dramatic pause "--Enough to break the ice! My name is Mike and I'll be assigning your group a raft today!" The wetsuits on board jiggled with laughter. "I have yet to successfully pick up a female with that one," said Mike.
Tristan was our guide. He epitomizes what you'd imagine a white water rafting guide to look like. He adjusted his MTV hat tightly on his head, and shared his life story with us on the walk to the rafts: After graduating in business, he moved to Chicago to see if he could hack it, but lasted only a year. He works the river in the summer, and the slopes in the winter. "In other words, I'm a professional kid."
Inside the raft, Tristan briefs my family on safety. If you fall out, do NOT try to touch the bottom or stand in the river. Your foot could get caught and the current could force you under.
"What happens if you fall out and we go down the river without a guide?"
Then that would be really embarrassing.
At this point, I'm not sure if we're all dying because Tristan is funny or because we're terrified of the approaching Big Kahuna, famous Snake River rapid. I think back to a conversation I had about being too afraid to do this.
And suddenly, with Big Kahuna looming, I hear my voice shouting. I am shouting war cries at the tumultuous rapid with white water like a frothing, monstrous mouth. Tristan gives a hearty command with feeling: ALL FORWARD! LET'S GO PLAY! I'm cheering on my husband, my older brothers, their wives, my dad, and my little niece and nephews crouched at the nose of the raft. I pump my fists in the air and signal a bold "Bring it" gesture, then reach my hands up over my head like a roller coaster.
The rapid's mouth takes its first chomp at our raft. Suddenly, someone is in my lap, along with a tidal wave of piercing cold water. I scramble to shoulder whoever is on top of me back to their position. More water. Are the little kids OK? My eyes are somehow pointing directly at the sky, and we go sailing on the crest of a wave. A final slap of river in our faces, and I begin to wonder if we had been defeated. But everyone is still inside the raft. Big Kahuna gurgles and splashes behind us, set and determined for its next prey. Everyone reacts with laughter, filling the canyon with the echos of glee. We made it.
Perhaps the reason I found this experience so fascinating is because I am not someone who practices being afraid. Someone once said that we should do something every day that scares us. This may have been the first thing I've done in my life that could positively "strike fear into the hearts of men."
And how do I react to a pounding, fearful, survivalistic heart?
Shouting. Lots and lots of shouting.
:)
.veronica.
