I’ve always loved the sensation of a boat or ship bouncing over waves – I don’t mind the rough seas. I love it whenever a boat bobs up and down on the water – it’s even better than driving dips in the desert! White water rafting had been on my list for quite a while. Finally, at age fifteen, I had my first go at white water rafting – in Colorado!
Originally, my dad and I had planned to white water raft at New River Gorge in West Virginia, but it was too early in the season. Instead, we replanned for white water rafting at Browns Canyon National Monument in Colorado!
It was still dark out when my dad woke me up – about fifteen minutes before sunrise. The air outside was cool, with a hint of midnight dew. It didn’t take me long to pull on my clothes and hop in the car. The night before, I had prepared a backpack with an extra set of clothes, a jacket, a hat, and a few snacks. I’d never gone white water rafting before, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but I figured it was better to be prepared than unprepared.
The drive was about three hours long, as we made our way from the mile high city of Denver out toward the Rocky Mountains. The drive was spectacular, one I definitely wouldn’t want to miss. The further away we got from the city, the higher the jagged mountains grew, each one adorned with glowing white snow. The mighty fourteeners of Colorado spanned the entire horizon, and I couldn’t help but dream of climbing them. The whole drive, a mix of over-excitement and a pinch of nervousness circulated through my body. I couldn’t wait to go white water rafting!
Finally, we pulled up into the parking lot of the rafting company (www.performancetours.com) we would go white water rafting with. Immediately after using the restrooms, we got suited up for rafting – wet suits, splash jackets, boots – the whole shebang. My dad and I each grabbed a helmet and a paddle, then jumped into the yellow school bus along with a few other soon-to-be-rafters.
During the seven or eight minute drive, we were given the low-down of everything white water rafting – how to prevent yourself from falling overboard, what to do if you do get tossed overboard, and how to restrain from getting injured if you end up in the water. I kind of felt like I was on a military operation, quickly being given instructions before being sent out on my assignment. It was all so exciting. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The risk of being thrown overboard and the promise of adventure – white water rafting was going to be so much fun!
The bus pulled off onto a gravel road where two red rafts were waiting for my dad and I and the other group. Initially, I had thought that my dad and I would share a raft with several others, but it turned out that it would only be me, my dad, and our guide Mike. After viewing a map of the river to see how far we’d go and what rapids we’d encounter, we were all swiftly shown how to sit in the raft and how to paddle. I figured there would be a greater risk of falling out of the raft by sitting along the edge rather than inside the raft, so I took careful note of making sure to shove one foot backwards and one forward into the raft to prevent myself from falling overboard.
Finally, we all grabbed a handlebar of each raft and one by one, hauled both rafts up onto a double-bar that led down to the river. It was a group effort – the rafts were a lot heavier than I ever imagined! Once we got the rafts in the water, we chatted with our rafting guide as he prepared our raft for the trip. My dad and I were going to be the first people to take the full-day (five-hour) rafting trip of the season, on the first day of the season. We had to keep an eye out for signs of hypothermia, because the melting glacial ice was, as you’d expect, freezing cold. Luckily, it was sunny out… but not for long.
About ten minutes after we got into the raft and pushed off from the riverbank, we had our first feel of melting glacial ice – it was definitely invigorating! The views ahead and behind were spectacular – behind us stood giant grey-and-white mountains, and up ahead we had a front-seat view of our first rapids. The strongest rapids we would experience on our trip were Class III rapids; the highest level is Class VI, and those are extremely dangerous, thus the reason why many rapids of that level have never been attempted.
Class I rapids were fun, but I was ready for the next level. Before we made it more than fifty yards away from where we launched, a giant grey cloud passed over the mountaintops and blocked out the sun. Without the warmth from the sun, and more than a bit of wind, it was a little chilly. I was glad I put on my splash jacket before we hopped into the raft – it served as an extra layer to keep me warm, and also to keep the water from soaking my core.
I had a lot of fun navigating over the Class II rapids, and it seemed as if time went by too fast because after only a few rapids, we were stopping for lunch. Since we had chosen the full-day white water rafting trip, a lunch was included about halfway through the trip. The grey cloud I mentioned earlier brought along several other forbidding dark clouds, and as we pulled up onto the riverbank, we heard our first loud claps of thunder. I scanned the sky for lightning, and although there was quite a bit of thunder, no lightning was brought along with it. Meanwhile, Mike produced a smorgasbord of much-needed delicious food (and water), which we quickly finished as the first drops of rain fell. My dad helped our guide quickly haul the gear back into the raft, and we set off for the upcoming rapids.
The storm only got crazier. After getting pelted with rain and drenched with river water (I seemed to get all the tsunamis of water – not that I minded), we experienced white water rafting during a mild hailstorm. It wasn’t too bad, but the hail stung my hands as I tightly clutched my paddle. Despite wearing our wet suits and splash jackets, we were chilled to the bone. It would definitely be an unforgettable adventure!
As we neared our first Class III, I triple-checked that my feet were tightly wedged in the raft (I double-checked before each Class II rapid) and that I wouldn’t accidentally punch my dad in the face if it got a little rough. Like Mike did for every rapid we encountered, he gave us instructions on how to paddle (forward one, forward two, or backward one or two) and then we dove into the rapid. We bounced along the water like a toy boat in a toddler’s bathtub, and I was so happy I’d made sure that my feet were securely crammed into the pockets of the raft. Just when I thought that rapid was a little crazy, we headed for The Toilet Bowl – a Class III rapid in the Arkansas River that’s known to overturn rafts. Our guide prepared us for the feat ahead, then paddled us over to the other side of the river – the best way to approach the rapid. Mike had been rafting at Browns Canyon National Monument for fifteen years, so he had quite a bit of experience. The river began to get choppier as we approached The Toilet Bowl. My heartbeat began to pick up as we got a good look at the terror ahead – rushing water around a large rock, and a drop that could have been considered a waterfall (seriously). Our guide was always calm when he gave us instructions, but this time, both my dad and I sensed an urgency in his voice. I really hoped we wouldn’t capsize.
We paddled once, then twice more, before we dove down at least three feet, shot past that giant rock, and danced like wobbly gelatin over the water. Waves of river water washed over the entire raft as we traversed the more-than-choppy waters, but a few seconds after it started, we were back to cruising along calm water. If I wasn’t already sopping wet before, I definitely was after that ordeal!
It continued to rain, and the sky stayed grey. Forty-five minutes after our last Class III rapid, we had come to the end of our journey. Both my dad and I were soaking from heat to toe, shivering from the cold, and ready to board the yellow school bus back to the building. Don’t get me wrong – it was an amazing trip – but my dad and I were so ready to enjoy some warmth! The ride back on the bus was a lot longer than the ride there, since we had covered around 14 miles of terrain by raft. When we reached the building, my dad and I pulled on our hats and exchanged our wet rafting gear for clean (not particularly warm) clothes. It wasn’t easy to change out of my gear because my fingers were so cold that I couldn’t even unbuckle my life vest! But I managed, and both my dad and I left Browns Canyon National Monument safe and healthy (with a new appreciation for car heating!) with fond memories of white water rafting.
Dare to explore!
Vivienne
