School's out

What does one do when the school year comes to a close?

If you're fortunate, you ship the kids to Nana's house and take a long weekend getaway.

Jason and I spent four days out of town with no kids, no schedule, and no plans.  

It was everything we thought it could be.

We spent our time sleeping in, eating out, and watching ducks.

It was so refreshing to reconnect after a tough spring.

Later that week, Jeddy's very oldest friend (since they were under two!) turned thirteen and invited us whitewater rafting to celebrate.  

He selected a trip that allowed ages ten and up, so the girls could participate.  We had them pretty convinced it would be no big deal, until it was time to gather for the pre-trip safety lecture.

The lady in charge was no-nonsense.  She was intimidating enough initially, and that was before she passed around forms for everyone to sign stating that we accept that "you can get injured; you can die."  The girls had to sign their own form, which pretty much obliterated any confidence they had.  

After that we geared up with personal flotation devices (NOT life preservers:  "These will not preserve your life; that's your job.  These will only float your person."), helmets, and oars.  We helped the kids tighten the PFD's until they were snug, and then she came around and gave each of us a mighty yank on the strap, practically knocking the wind out of us.  Apparently breathing is no part of whitewater rafting.

We piled onto an old school bus and listened to further instructions as we bounced along through the woods to the river.  She spoke loud and fast.  Here's a rundown of some of the main points:

1.  Plan A is to stay in the boat.  If you think you're going to fall over, fall into the boat.

2.  If you fall out of the boat, Step 1, as you're clunking along the rocky bottom and battered by current and waves and devoid of oxygen, is:  Relax.

3.  Step 2:  Self-rescue.  It's YOUR job to save your own life.

4.  If you're still close to the boat, grab the boat and climb back in it.

5.  If you're sort of close to the boat, someone will stick an oar in your face.  Grab it and use that to climb back in.

6.  If you're UNDER the boat, remember:  Relax.  Then the rest of us will paddle extra hard to get you out from under us until you shoot out the back.

7.  If you're far from the boat, swim very hard in whatever direction your raft leader is pointing:  toward the left, right, or middle of the river.

8.  If you can't swim to safety, Leon, our kayaker companion, will come to you.  But, drowning or not, DO NOT touch Leon's kayak until he invites you to, and even then, ONLY touch the small designated spot on his kayak ("Don't touch here, or here, or here.  You should touch here, but not here.  If you have to, you can touch here.  But don't pull here.  Got it?")  If you fail at this, he will flip you both over into the river.

9.  If all else fails, the instructor carries a long rescue rope with a heavy metal carabiner at the end of it, and she will throw it at your head.    

After this encouraging set of instructions, we arrived at the river, divided into two group for the two rafts, and prepared to launch, which involved cooperatively carrying the heavy raft down a long set of steep stairs and wading into the water.

Leon took a different tactic.

He zoomed down the stairs and smoothly into the water, where he immediately started doing tricks:  rolling over, standing the kayak on its nose, doing pushups in the water on the oar. 


He kept that up for the entire two hours we were out.


Once we entered the river, our fearless leader still had more to tell us. 


She explained the different commands she would use, which, by this point, we were prepared to obey instantly without question.  She had already made clear that "the ones who fall out are the ones who didn't paddle hard enough."  Whether that's actually true or a ruse to make us all pull our weight, I don't know, but we were beyond questioning.  When the waves get big, she said, we must paddle hard straight into them without stopping.  She taught us to stroke together forward and backward, and then made us drill how to leap on top of our partner across the boat to throw weight, in case the boat is about to flip. 


With our leader's authority and our total obedience firmly in hand, we set off into the rapids. 


The river was running eight feet above normal, which made some places more dangerous than usual (more powerful current), but some places actually less dangerous (we were far above rocks).


Out of a scale of class 1-6--class 6 being considered "unnavigable by raft"--our journey reached class "5+."  Waves were 20 feet at their highest.  Just before the roughest part, she had Ada give up her oar and hunker down at the bottom of the raft, holding on with two hands and keeping her head down.


I'm pleased to report that we avoided all the innumerable disasters about which we were forewarned.  No one fell out of the boat.  We didn't even have to tackle each other across the raft to stay upright.  No one had to sort out under duress which part of Leon's boat was allowable.  No one tested whether Leon was even paying attention.  No one had a rescue carabiner thrown at their head.


No one stopped paddling.


In between rapids, we enjoyed beautiful scenery and even some informative history as we glided.


We arrived drenched and exhilarated....

...with good appetites for dinner cooked over a campfire.

The rain at home has been extreme too, so Caleb and Lizzy and I checked out the flood damage at the park during one of Ada's piano lessons.

The river had been up over the field, judging from the debris along the fence

...and up over the bridge, judging from debris and damage there.

Even aquatic life was left behind on the bridge.

End of school also means end of Little League.

And end-of-year field day.

More time with cousins...

...and somebody else's thirteenth birthday!

Vive l'été.