Written @ 7:57 p.m. on 2007-04-16
Rafting
Jumping up and down and patting myself on the back at the same time! Oh my god! Oh my god! I can't wait to freaking TELL YOU!
Hold on. Are you sitting? Are you comfortable?
This weekend I began my training to be a whitewater river rafting guide. Friday night, all alone, I drove into the blackness, up through the Pocono mountains, to a big log cabin that is the rafting company's Guide House. At 10 o'clock at night every friday they have a meeting, and then the guides sleeping bag it in the Guide House. That way they are all present and set to go at the crack of dawn Saturday morning, when the guests arrive!
I was very nervous. I was nervous to go someplace I had never been. I was nervous to meet new people and I was nervous to paddle the river! I wasn't afraid of getting hurt, per se, although everyone I told about it seemed concerned for my welfare. I was worried I would not be strong enough. I didn't quite tell anyone that, although I grew up survival camping and canoeing, I'd never, like, well, actually, BEEN white water rafting, exactly.
When I stepped into the meeting, I knew I had found "my people". Nature loving thrill seekers with dredlocks and hiking boots, they were all enthusiastic and welcoming. I soon realized that there is a whole lot more to this guide thing than I had originally planned on. There are eddies, and holes, and draw strokes, and pry strokes, and level one floats, and level two rapids, and strainers and pinners, and play boats and duckies and military valves and...oh my, I better take notes!
And there was beer. After the meeting, everyone was expected to head out to a nice, hot bonfire and socialize, but I was bit daunted by all of the vocabulary, so I snuck up to the sleeping quarters and studied my book. I fell asleep there before anyone else had even thought about slowing down, and woke up next to two strange men! Well, they were in their sleeping bags and I was in mine, and there were about fifty other snoozing guides in the room, too.
In the morning, it was 35 degrees out, and the water was 40. The instructors assured us that we would be quite wet and perhaps even swim. They gave me polypro. long underwear, thick socks, a wet suit (me! in a wet suit!), wet suit booties, wet suit mittens, a wet suit jacket, and another jacket, like a raincoat, to wear on top of that. I added a fleece coat, a fleece scarf, a wool hat, and a life preserver. They told us not to wear any cotton because it would lose any ability to keep us warm once it got wet. With all that on, I could barely walk, but I wasn't cold, and I felt pretty damn cool.
There were six people in my boat, 5 newbies and an instructor. My instructor was just amazing. Relaxed, cool, and fun, he let you feel comfortable making mistakes so that he could gently correct them. The boat was a big inflatable raft, which was flanked by the more experienced in kayaks. Once we are guides, the guests will be in the rafts and the guides hover in kayaks, pointing the way. To start out, we got the feel for what it would be like for a guest in a raft. Which was cool, 'cause, uh, I'd never been in one.
My first day out was freezing cold, and due to conditions, we spent it on the longest, most isolated, most difficult course they run. I rafted 13 miles on the Lehigh River through the Hickory Run State Park, and I didn't see one house the entire paddle. Mountain laurel and dense forest shot up into steep mountain peaks, dotted with giant boulders with names like "Case of Beer Rock".
This was no pleasure float, although we had plenty of fun. We made quick introductions and set to work learning to read the rapids, execute the strokes, and learn the river. We also got some local history. The area was originally lumbered, then mined for coal. Canals were built in the mid 1800s to bring the lumber and coal to Philadelphia, but were quickly replaced by the railroads, and the canal villages were quietly enveloped back into the wilderness. There are bears, copperheads and rattlers, deer, fish, geese, ducks and songbirds. There is an abandoned boxcar in the water that will tear your raft to shreds. If you see the ranger, wave hi!
We moved slowly, stopping to look and to learn. The group even took time to let me practice my weak draw stroke. The boat spun around and around and around as I practiced in a place of flat water.
We stopped near a train trestle, trainees and seasoned vets alike, and everyone started clamoring up the rocky cliff. "Um, hi?" I thought. "I don't know if you noticed, but I am fat, and this is a cliff we are climbing in wet bootie-thingies! There is a possibility for embarrassment here!" I didn't say anything. I followed like a baby duck.
Over the train tracks, and down we went, under the mountain laurel, on the ridge over a roaring spring tributary. I kept up as best I could, thinking, "Uh, guys, this isn't exactly like, a trail here. Guys? Guys?" but still not saying anything. I was out of breath.
Then I saw the reason for leaving the boats behind. In front of me, looking like an advertisement for unspoiled Costa Rica, was the most lovely, raging waterfall and deep forest pool. No one was around. There were no "No swimming" signs or tourists to share with. It was completely inaccessable without navigating the rapids in a raft. There was no road. It was...pristine. The mountain laurel was thick with twisting vines, and the water fall was a wide drop, with an undercut that one could easily climb to and walk behind the waterfall. There was a perfect deep pool for swimming, and despite 40 degree temps, a couple people did.
Then back in the boats, and it was time for some real rapids. Water levels were low, so the rapids weren't too swift, but I had great fun being the captian and navigating my crew through oxbow bends in the river rapids.
13 miles later, I climbed out of the boat much more knowledgable, exhausted, possibly hypothermic, but really proud of myself. At the guide house, dinner of macaroni medley, bread and brownies awaited, and my favorite movie was playing on the tube, Stand By Me. I took it as a thumbs up from God.
The tempurature dropped and Sunday a snowstorm was expected, so paddling was cancelled. It was somebody's 21st birthday, and with no rafting the next day, lots of drunken mayhem ensued. I think there were some wrestling competitions around midnight, but I was in my sleeping bad already. I was only slightly interrupted by the sound of a young girl throwing up down the stairway at about 2.
Because we couldn't get in the water, we had some dry land classes instead. How to Unpin a Pinned Boat Full of Frantic Guests. How to Throw a Rope without Getting Someone's Neck Caught and Decapitating Them. How to Use A Maxi Pad to Stop A Hemmoraging Puncture Wound. You know, easy stuff. We were done by noon, and I got home before the snow hit.
Isn't that AWESOME! I can't wait to go back and do it again. Maybe next time I won't be so shy and I might have a beer. I'll let you know.