My dad in the back and cousin and stepbrother on either side. So when I heard some friends were going last week, I joined along, brimming with excitement about the adventure. We hopped in the car and drove 6 hours to West Virginia to raft with Songer Whitewater on the New river. Songer also does the Gauley river but that's a whole different show. I'm not keen on near-death experiences so am glad we stuck with the more gentle trip.
Worry didn't start creeping in until I woke the next morning to a darkening sky. It was already chilly out and I was wearing thin I-hope-this-cheap-fabric-dries-out-quickly shorts and a bathing suit, neither of which preserved ANY warmth whatsoever. "Chance of thunderstorms and more scattered thunderstorms" translated to "you're going to be in water when lightning hits!" to my brain. I pushed it aside and told myself, "they said CHANCE" and focused instead on the hotel's breakfast buffet where I deliberated over items least likely to spontaneously erupt from an unwilling orifice in the next several hours.
Then we drove to the whitewater place, suited up and loaded onto the company bus. My friends ribbed me. "Here's a life vest and helmet. Make sure you get a RIGHT-HANDED paddle!!" I tried to play it off like I hadn't believed them. "ha ha," I said. "You almost got me!" (lol. almost. Yeah right.)
But it wasn't until the actual bus ride that my amygdala began to override the reasoning centers of my brain. "The river is 2.5 feet higher than yesterday AND IS STILL RISING!!" the guide sang out. "That's going to make a REALLY exciting and dangerous ride!"
"Dangerous?" I thought, and leaned in closer. Death threats tend to get my full attention.
"Now if you have ANY medical conditions, LET US KNOW! Last year a woman didn't tell us that she had a condition where her muscles shut down when she was afraid. She fell in the water and we found her floating face down, paralyzed! We saved her, she's ok now, but TELL US about any limits you have so we are NOT surprised."
I wondered if I had a condition where my muscles shut down in fear. Thirty minutes of ensuing "safety" talk served only to scare the daylights out of me, paralyzing my facial muscles into a tight grimace prompting a Songer employee to ask me if I was ok.
Eventually, we arrived at the river and our guide walked up. "You're the high-adventure boat, eh?" he said. I tried not to look worried. "Yeah, these smaller boats are less stable, they tip over more easily. We can have as much fun as you'd like!!"
Fun? Tipping over is fun? I thought the whole point was getting through rapids without drowning. Hm.
Luckily my friends are kind and noticed my knitted brows. "We'll start out slow and see how it goes," one said mercifully, sacrificing their carefree spirits in exchange for a pleasant ride home.
Within 5 minutes of getting into the water, we flipped. It happened in slow motion, one side rising threateningly until it stood on edge and then crashed fully over, dumping us unceremoniously into the swirling water underneath.
Falling in wasn't so bad. It was what to do once I was in. "Crap! Don't drop the paddle!" I thought, remembering the prep talk. I dropped it anyway and then lunged after it, foolishly using metabolic reserves better suited to self-preservation. Paddle successfully secured but now tired, I started swimming towards the boat one-handed, holding the paddle awkwardly in front of me.
It was then that I realized I was breathing too fast. Great. I tried to will myself to calm down but research in brain studies time and again show how powerfully the fear response engulfs the mind. There is no reasoning with a cerebrum convinced it's in danger. I made a mental note to try meditation, hypnosis, and weed* when I got home, and continued swimming.
Luckily I was in a place that wasn't dangerous. The water was not too fast, undercut rocks were distant, the boat was accessible, and my experienced river rat friends were looking out for me. One of them guided me toward the boat and helped me in. I wanted to shower them with grateful hugs and name my firstborn after them (or at least give them first eBay bidding rights), but let out a breathless "thanks!" instead.
Once I was back in the boat, my brain split in two. One half said, "that was a great place to fall out. Now I know what it's like." (The unknown evokes far more alarm than the known -- that's why practice and exposure are the best ways to handle fear.)
However, the other half screamed, "WE'RE GOING TO DIE!" (with an intensity not unlike the woman on my last flight who howled those very words at the top of her lungs during takeoff). This caused me to purposely hook my right foot into the boat so tightly that it would have gotten ripped off before I fell out again. My friends noticed this with alarm and mentioned, "um, you don't want it in there TOO tightly or you could get injured if we flip again." I nodded and pantomimed adjustment by jamming it further in.
At some point we broke for lunch, pulling on shore for a break. Our guide announced that the very next rapid would be a class V (highly dangerous if you fell out). I got off the boat and, unsteady at this news, immediately twisted my ankle on the rocks, and hobbled towards the food. Stomach in knots, I picked at lettuce until someone got stung by a bee and ran shrieking from the small colony that gathered by the food. After that, I couldn't sit still anymore. I got up for some photo ops:
(Me, in yellow. There's a drop of water on the lens which makes me look freakishly short and pear-shaped. Not that I am tall and lean, but I need all the cooperation I can get from the camera. I don't need any extra obstacles! In reality I am somewhat taller than the woman next to me.)Something interesting happened after lunch. I started to relax. I realized that we were going through rapids and NOT getting tossed in. We didn't fall out at all for the rest of the trip. My brain finally calmed down and enjoyed the ride.
Really it was a blast. Now I am debating about going back next month!_____________________________
*have never actually tried pot, but judging from our cable repairman, it works great on killing any sense of urgency or concern.
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