White Water Rafting

It was a big priority on the boys' list of things to do on vacation: white water rafting. I had no problem agreeing to this, as we went rafting one other time several years ago. Last time, the boys were content with less excitement; we enjoyed a few small rapids with lots of calm water in between. This time around, they wanted more white in their water.

When we checked in at Raftmasters, and signed the necessary waivers, we were ushered to a little shack and handed wet suits and booties. We girls got them on much the same way we tackle a pair of pantihose. The guys did a bit more complaining as they don't regularly experience such tight clothing. The fact that Perry put his on backwards and had to repeat the struggle twice only made it better.

One life jacket and helmet later, we boarded the bus and were given a safety lesson on what to do if we fell in the river, if our raft flipped over, and other equally unappealing situations. Since the water was low, we would be encountering lots of rocks. Even though the river would be shallow enough to stand, the guide stressed that trying to walk in the rapids could prove fatal in the event that one's foot got stuck in the rocks. I didn't back out at that point, but I did pledge to myself not to leave the safety of the raft, no matter what rock or wave came my way.

Our family was divided into two boats, and our guides set us off in the river. Following his instructions closely, we would go "forward 2" or "back 1" according to the rocks and rapids he saw ahead of us.

My heart nearly stopped when we approached the first set of rapids and our guide called it a waterfall. I knew there was nothing I could do but ride along, so I shoved my feet even further into the crevices of the raft bottom and braced for the bumps.

The scenery was breathtaking along the river canyon with steep rocky cliffs and pine forests. I knew I could never get tired of looking at that, but I had important things to attend to, like worrying our raft's passengers around the clusters of jagged rocks and unseen drop-offs.

I survived that patch of rapids, and all the others of course. We maneuvered through several Class 4 rapids and didn't flip the raft, get stuck on a rock, or lose a single rider over the side. After we arrived back at our starting point, we were allowed to pour the river water out of our booties and strip off our wet suits. My body smelled like a combination of stinky feet and the dirty football uniforms I used to wash. I assumed that indicated I'd really accomplished something that day.

My son Sam pointed out a women in the lobby who had just confessed to going shopping while the rest of her family went rafting. She didn't have helmet-head and I'm sure she didn't smell bad, but according to my son, I one-upped that other mom today.

:)