Today is the day I dreaded. This is the day that my husband and I were scheduled to go white water rafting down the Kennebec River, in Maine. Let me explain. My husband and I are direct opposites. He loves old houses - I love new stores. He gets excited over GPS units - I become frustrated and overwhelmed by anything computerized. He loves to try new exotic foods - I love chicken and pizza. He is by nature, adventuresome - I am basically fearful and worrisome. The list could go on and on, but the most important comparison for today is, he can swim - I cannot. But never let it be said that I held him back from his destiny, so geared up, we headed off.
I say geared up, because North Country Rivers advises appropriate attire for rafting - bathing suits, footwear, nylon shorts, windbreaker, sunscreen, baseball cap and a life vest. Outwardly I felt prepared; inwardly I thought I might actually die.
About an hour's drive from our inn, we found North Country Rivers. Our tour guide, John, aka Magic, immediately asked us to fill out some liability form - not a reassuring way to start your day. John then asked the room of mostly twenty and thirty something's, if there was anyone who had not rafted before. A small group of us timidly and conspicuously raised our hands.
We were issued identical wet jackets, helmets, life vests and oars and everyone in our group of about 35 started to look like rafting clones. Most people seemed to be enthusiastic and smiling glazed smiles of nervous glee and anticipation. When I started to hear rally cries of "Bring it on," I knew I was out of my safety zone. I pulled aside "Magic" and whispered "If I go overboard, I will not be happy." He just smiled.
We all boarded a rickety bus that drove us about a half hour farther up the river. In groups of six, we hauled our very heavy raft down to the river's edge; at least I knew it was sturdy. The bus pulled away and there was now no turning back.
In river rafting language we were informed that we would hit waves that were levels 1 to 4, and cheers rose from the crowd. I did not cheer; somehow I knew that level 3 and 4 would not be good.
It was then that I discovered the most frightening and illogical aspect of it all. You do not sit IN the raft. Wouldn't that make sense? You sit along the raised outer edges of the raft, with just your feet inside. No wonder so many people fall out.
White Water Rafting
My only focus was listening to John's quickly rattled off safety directions. What did he say? Don't hold onto the ropes on the boat; use your body and the oar for balance? Is he kidding?
I really tried to pull my weight on the team and rowed non-stop, as wave upon wave splashed me full force. Others admired and remarked about the beautiful area's landscape, but I saw virtually nothing since all my being was trying to focus on synchronizing with the oar in front of me. I was not wet, I was soaked, but I did feel a sneaky sense of pride that I was actually doing this. Now and then, Don, sitting behind me, would shout into my ear, "You're doing great Janet." And I felt a little like a kid who hit her first home run, while her parents beamed with pride.
We stopped for a barbecue lunch on the river's edge and I never felt so hungry or so tired. Thankfully, I was told, the second half of the trip was a gentle floating ride home - my kind of river ride.
I'll tell you, but I would never tell my husband. When it was all over, I did feel a sense of exhilaration and a sense of fun, despite the sense of panic. Don asked if I would do it again. I said, "Don't push your luck."
Still wet all over and feeling like a drowned rat, I couldn't wait to get back to Wings Hill Inn and jump into a nice warm shower. After a well needed nap, Don and I enjoyed another magnificent dinner at the Inn.
Tomorrow we head towards Connecticut and leave the woods of Maine. I've discovered a lot about this state. Prior to this trip, three words came to mind when I heard the word Maine: blueberries, woods and lobsters. Now I think of fine dining, sailing, museums and especially the wonderful people. And, of course, I will never forget my time fighting the river.
