The Hiwassee

We’re going down to Tennessee to kayak the Hiwassee River this weekend. I’m already packed. I’ve been packed for two weeks. Can’t wait.

While it’s always been a blast for us, it represents more to me. I’ve always been a reader and writer, so there’s lessons and symbolism in everything.

About four years ago, I bought a whitewater kayak and began to dabble. It was a sit-on-top design. Not exactly hard core, but a first step. It helped dispel initial apprehensions and had me sticking my nose into the stuff. Such as the stuff was around here. I felt a need to grow.

A paddling group from another city posted a trip to the Hiwassee. I knew the trip leader and got the information. It sounded like a bit more of a leap than I wanted to make, but I pondered it.

I floated the idea to some people I paddled with. One bit. She was more advanced than I was, so it sounded great to her. I committed to go and the die was cast.

The camping site was at the outfitter. The leader was billeting in a cabin elsewhere. He told me he would have his family with him and his wife preferred the cabin. I should’ve paid more attention.

We checked in and were directed to the reserved site. There were numerous campsites crammed into the property. They were small. We pitched our tents and the others in the group began to arrive. I had been wondering where their spots were. Surprise. There was only one spot. We helped them wedge in. We were not only tent-to-tent with each other, but with our tripmates and those occupying adjoining sites.

So, who needs more space than your own tent? If you have a fraternity on one side, a scout troop on the other, and a gospel singing group across from you, you need more space. It was cacophonous. I began to write off sleep.

But, the rains came. That squelched the singers and the scouts, giving hope, but the frat boys were already too well lubricated. Sleep was fitful.

The next morning, we gathered for instructions with the trip leader. He gave us a rundown of the rapids and other features we would encounter, along with the appropriate cautions. My mouth was drying out. I think he was even giving my experienced cohort reason to pause. He urged us to wait for him to tackle the rough parts and follow his route. No problem.

So, we launched. The river was fairly flat for the first quarter mile and then dropped into a sweeping curve of a rapid. The leader shouted out reminders of technique and precautions. It was nothing real challenging, but I made a couple errors. What had caused them?

I was being tentative. To succeed, when you go, go hard.

The next rapid came up and he provided instructions, offering an alternative route around it. No, I came here to learn. Right down the gut it would be. And, hard.

No problem. By halfway through the trip, we were charging ahead as soon as he yelled out the instructions. The next day, most of his yelling was to rein us in. The first day, the objective had been to make it down the river. Now, we were testing it and ourselves.

You can almost always do more than you think you can. I knew that, but just wasn’t applying it here. Sometimes, you have to be reminded. That’s what the Hiwassee reminds me of.

In subsequent years, I would lead our group on the same trip (renting a large, secluded cabin for us). I had moved on to a “regular” whitewater kayak and to playing the holes and waves for all they were worth. But, the real enjoyment was watching beginners progress through those stages with each passing year.

The Hiwassee reminds me that growth is always possible. Can’t wait for the weekend.