Honestly, where is the time going these days? I have no idea. I blinked and suddenly October is almost gone.
Anyhoos, the last weekend in September, which feels like yesterday, our good friend Steve-O offered up two free tickets to go white water rafting down the Nantahala River. We were feeling pretty adventurous, so we enthusiastically said um HECK YES!
“Adventurous” is one of the two adjectives whitewater rafting marketing associates use. “Fast” is the other adjective for those of you wondering.
Case in point:
Then we stood around a bit. Which led to these pictures.
After Somanna and Noah demonstrated their masculine prowess for your blogging pleasure, we studied up on the maps of the river.
Sorry that picture’s not so hot. But it shows a better view of the river overall. This next photo gives pointers on a few sections that tend to trip people up. And when I say trip people up, I mean flip their boat.
Lest you think we tackled something out of White Water Summer (how’s that for an 80’s throwback?), let me reassure you. The Nantahala offers an easy-going, scenic ride down the river for about eight (ish) miles. Most of the rapids are class two rapids (on a scale of one to five; five being the most dangerous) with a few class ones sprinkled in along the way. A class three rapid caps off your trip as the big finale.
But enough talk, how about some gorgeous mountain scenery?
I love North Carolina.
Here are the fellas engaging in some sort of masculine ritual.
I prefer a more covert approach.
Actually I just suck at taking goofy pictures. I end up looking really weird and awkward. Mostly because I am.
Then we played a prophetic game. First the guys enacted a “faux” falling into the river photo-op.
Yes, yes very dramatic. Har, Har.
Then Steve offered “Hey Beth, why don’t you steer?” (We had been playing musical chairs in the boat, so that everyone got in on a little splash action.) I replied, “Oh no Steve, I don’t want to be the one responsible for flipping the boat over.” And then he said “Oh c’mon it’ll be fun! Even if that happens, we’ll be like ‘Hey remember that time Beth was steering and we all fell out of the boat? Man that was funny!'”
I’ll spare you the continued conversation play by play, but I ended up steering.
And that’s precisely what led me falling out of the boat. Of course it did.
Thank you foreshadowing. You truly illuminate the way.
After I took the helm, I managed to navigate these challenging waters:
Hey, I didn’t hit any kayakers. Small victories people, small victories.
Anyhoos, soon after we found ourselves approaching a few rapids and a BIG ROCK.
With steering skills that can only be matched by the blind, drunk and elderly, I successfully lodged our raft sideways *on top* of the rock. – I know, my talents astound both of us.- We then spent a few minutes employing a rather advanced whitewater rafting technique to dislodge ourselves off the rock. (Cough, we pushed against the rock with our oars, a highly advanced move.) And in that grand motion, I managed to NOT push our boat off the rock and instead push MYSELF out of the boat.
I mean really. Who does that?
The water was a wee bit chilly and by a wee bit chilly I mean “Holy-sh*t-balls-that-is-some-cold-ass-water!” After emerging from the cold shock, I found myself floating down stream toes up (safety first!) so that I didn’t get my feet stuck in rocks. Instinctively, I tried to grab larger rocks to hold, but that’s the thing about moving water. It keeps you moving.
Eventually my heroic menfolk steered their boat over to
their damsel in distress clumsy me and in a dramatic gesture extended the oar for me to grab hold. The oar was mere inches from my fingers when a swirl of whitewater spun us in opposite directions. Operation Rescue FAIL.
I continued to flail about in the water, screaming like a 13-year-old at Backstreet Boys concert until eventually my men and I linked up in the water. At which point, Somanna gracefully lifted me headfirst into his crotch by my life jacket. An event which made all of us very uncomfortable. Thank God for the scenery.
I will say this though. Out of all the crotches in the boat, at least it was my husband’s.
Small victories people. Small victories.
Well, not small – youknowwhatI”msayin?!Yeah!
Ok so now we’re all uncomfortable. I think you relate to the scene on the boat. My work as a writer is done.
And thus concludes my tail of grace and ladylike demeanor.
At least the ducks found it entertaining.
And really who can blame them?