Lessons Learned

We’re going kayaking tomorrow on a whitewater creek that doesn’t run that often. To some, it’s rare opportunity to paddle one of the prettiest places in Ohio. To me, it’s a trip down memory lane. It was my first whitewater run, about three decades ago. I had taken a canoe course that year, my first real experience in the sport. Busy with raising a family, I didn’t get in much practice. For some reason, I let myself get talked into this November run as a way for cutting my teeth. In spite of the group’s assurances, I was ill-prepared. First of all, I had only a tandem canoe and couldn’t find the odd person to team up with. I’d be trying to horse this 17’ monster through the fast and twisting water by myself. They told me it would be a learning experience. So is touching a hot stove. They did advise me to have floatation because a swamped canoe is all but impossible to maneuver ashore. That fell short of a full explanation. A canoe with any water in it becomes unstable and difficult to maneuver. They should’ve advised me to displace all water that could enter. All I did was tie in two innertubes, enough to keep it afloat but far from enough to keep it from taking on liquids. Finally, most of them had neoprene wetsuits. I wasn’t serious enough about this to make that kind of investment. During the course I took, we were advised that wool is a good insulator, even when wet. I had gone to an Army-Navy store and found a German combat uniform. And so it began. The previous evening had blanketed the area with rain and freezing temperatures. The morning sun shone through ice-coated limbs, creating a winter wonderland. That and their pronouncements for and easy an fun run buoyed my spirits. Easy my foot. I pinballed my behemoth from rock to rock while they knifed through in their sleeker craft. I was about exhausted by the time we reached the grand finale, a long rapid that dropped over three ledges. I pondered pulling out ahead of it but they protested, saying it was half the reason to come. Just follow them and I’d be just fine. Yeah, and the check’s in the mail. It was a great theory. In practice, not so much. I hung on the stern of the leader like a tick on a hound dog. I was right behind him on the first drop and it felt okay, except the high waves saw fit to jump into my canoe, making it a bit sluggish to respond. Nonetheless, I managed to get right behind him for the second drop. Again, I split the uprights and held the correct line. Except, I had taken on much more water. He cut sharply left to find the right route down the last drop. Laden down with a few hundred pounds of water, my bow would only glance in that direction. I plunged into perilous waters which climbed the sides of my canoe, just about filling it. It kind of gave a half-hearted shrug and went into a death roll, dumping me into the rapids. The shock of the cold water came right through the wool. So much for insulation. But, I’d be on shore pretty quickly. Not so fast. The rapid swept me right by the river banks and spewed me out into the middle of a lagoon, far from land. By the time I dragged my sodden outerwear to land, I was a shivering mess. A good time was had by all. Fortunately, I’ve paddled the stream several times since. Much better prepared, thank you very much. And, I am looking forward to another rematch tomorrow to apply the lessons learned.