Off-the-cuff invitations are red flags. The “oh you should come…”, then the “it’ll be fun…” screams run away, even though I know that some of my better days have been started that way.
There is no plan-making between the inviter and the original group; it’s one person inviting another into something already existing. What if the existing group is upset? What if they wanted less people, or different company? Not entirely the invitee’s problem, but the impact on dynamics can be felt if it is less than ideal. I always feel hesitant about extending the off-the-cuff invite to others as I am probably too concerned about the existing group members’ thoughts.
As with many, this off-the-cuff plan was hatched at a watering hole. Talking of plans for tomorrow and the “oh; you should come!” phrase is thrown out. It is early enough in the evening that the conversation eddies out while topics flow onward downstream. But most things will get flushed out of the eddy and sure enough, an hour later the conversation about tomorrow’s plan comes back.
“Last time I went on a white water adventure I walked most of the rapids. Our paddle raft flipped high in the canyon and I was unable to hold on before it took off below me.”
“Well, there is your problem—you were in a raft” was the, only partially, sarcastic response. “But seriously, yeah, that sounds scary and probably hard to move on from.”
I was on a day run on an Aisen-region river; the Patagonia sidecountry. A hundred feet below the rim of the canyon and under the jungle canopy, I gulped for air as I struggled through the wave trains and around rocks, arms flailing desperately trying to keep my head above water and maintain shore bound direction. I made it out, dragging myself onto shore, shaken and afraid. Once we re-grouped I made the decision to walk the steep sided canyon for as much as I could, wanting to know that I was in control.
“When was the last time you were in a kayak?”
“Maybe ten—fifteen years ago. . .” I petered off, thinking about the generation of life lived since that last time in a kayak. It was probably a lie. Having never done a NOLS seminar (which is the logical place for me to have been in one), i imagine it was twenty-two years ago on the Snake River in Jackson with a Trails Wilderness School group. Ten years or twenty, not sure if it actually made a difference.
The next morning I pulled myself out of bed early, for many reasons, not an easy task. The birds and brightness did not allow for continued shut-eye of any use, though the desire for more horizontal time was strong.
I texted Andy to see if there was gear and space; he called immediately with his signature, Andy Blair, maniacal laugh. A hearty “Jared Spaulding” greeted me as I put the phone to my ear. Peasantries exchanged, I tested the waters on the day trip; Andy: “sure sure, I think we can figure it out with the boaters that we have.” I sensed hesitancy, but a desire to be inclusive. “Meet me at ten at my house and we can sort gear. . . oh and use the alley as Lincoln is still being constructed.”
A rendezvous with my off-the-cuff inviter for some breakfast, plan making, and general banter at the Washakie house ensued; breakfast tacos, mate, and a low-budget mimosa were all on the menu. I swung by Andy’s place, picked up the gear and then gathered with the other boaters in the Palace Pharmacy parking lot to meet up with Joe and Tiffany, two other locals with whom Andy had boated with a lot.
From the parking lot we pointed the lil’ black Tacoma northwest, filled it with smiles and laughter, and drank Coors Light mixed with OJ, all while singing Colder Weather and a bunch of random Cowboy Shit. I was in; the die had been cast. Sure there were nerves & I could still bail, but I figured that I just needed to do the thing and the thing felt bigger than just paddling through whitewater.
We put in on the Jakey’s Fork and floated to the confluence. The first 100 yards were filled with branches and wobbley-ness. Andy suggested just leaving the skirt off until we did the safety talk at the confluence, but I think he thought there would be more in and out and dragging the boat through the low water; not the case. Regardless, I made down without loading my boat with water—Win #2. Andy gave a safety briefing to get us on the page for communicating and helping each other, with he, Tiff, and Lex being the stronger boaters, and keeping me and Joe in the middle, or at least not last.
The weather was hot with temps in the low hundreds for the day. Not super common, but it makes for a great day to be on a high-desert river. Sage, sandstone, rabbitbrush, cottonwoods, willow all co-mingle as the riparian gives way to the sandy, dusty, higher ground. This is my country, this is the desert that I love. And to see it differently after 20 years in a place, to explore the low-lands in a way that was new and different is exciting and invigorating. Window views had shown the Fish Canyon oh-so-many-times before. Now, when driving through again I’ll be able to look down and reach back into that memory and smile; be able to paint another story onto the landscape. Be that much richer and fuller in the comprehension of systems and places, and of how one small group of humans finds sense of place in this corner of the world.
Lucky for me, Lex is an excellent coach and teacher. Lots of direction and leading through various lines, heck even helping me get my skirt on for the first time, all of which probably was helpful for Andy who didn’t really need to be responsible for me as a novice kayaker on what I had thought would be class 2 whitewater and wasn’t even on his invite list! Somewhere in there I swim; I go sideways to the current, lean the wrong direction, and then flip. Immersed and upside down, I lean forward. My mind stays calm and my first thought is to set up for a roll. My second, more rational, logical thought, is that I hadn’t done one of those in fifteen year and I should probably wet-exit. What had Lex said? Hands to the cockpit, move to tab, pull tab. But I can see the tab, I’ll just go there. I pop out and then up, bobbing in rapidly moving water. Feet up, back paddle with my hands and arms. Downstream Lex is pointing river left and I am able, with my kayak, to eddy out amongst some protective rocks and overhanging willows. Upstream, Tiff is watching from another eddy, also ready to offer assistance.
The re-entry process isn’t simple, but Lex drags the upside down kayak across their kayak’s bow and drains the water, flipping it upright back into the eddy, where I alternatingly stand and squat in the shallow water. I do a body scan and assure the folks that I haven’t any physical pain or injuries. I do an emotional check and find myself doing alright, mostly concerned about getting back into the cramped cockpit from the tight, willow-banked eddy with not much maneuverability. One step at a time—not dislike climbing a mountain. I straddle the boat, sitting on the stern, then slide my legs into the cockpit. A dry, dead arm of a willow provides some security as I balance and wobble into the green, plastic boat. The skirt proves challenging, again, one handed due to the other one being occupied holding hands with the willow and keeping me stationary enough in the less-than-ideal eddy.
Lex points out a line threading two boulders and into the current, then into a better eddy down and river right. Somehow I pull it off and gather up with all where we laugh and I assure my compatriots that I am pretty ok.
Despite the continued downstream rapids, boulders, and wave trains, I manage to stay upright and within the kayak and not repeat the wet-exit performance. With the inevitable out of the way, and the more challenging whitewater behind me, the remainder of the paddle brings more smiles and laughter and admissions of fun. As we drag boats up the take out, we marvel at the just-under-three-hour time frame for which we were on the river. Food, family, & other life plans call our names and we all opt out of the second lap, engendering much relief in me as the need to process and breathe feel more imminent.
***
Lean forward. Lifft your upstream butt when peeling out, lift your downstream butt when eddying out. Paddle hard. Keep your boat straight. Lean into the rocks and keep your boat bottom to the current when crossing it; use the water’s power to move you.
Lean in. Lean into the rocks. Lean into the challenges. Lean into the danger—but where is the danger? Lean in. Look where you want to go, don’t look at the place you want to avoid—is there some contradictory advice there? Is the danger the water or the obstacle to the water? Maybe too deep of a question. It seems the techniques of the kayaker offer some techniques for living as well.
I think right now in my life I need new, I need different. But that is hard so I need to lean into it. And maybe that ‘different’ is just a different way of approaching the same things I am/have been doing. Maybe that means another climbing trip to Patagonia. Maybe that means climbing with people in addition to Anna. Maybe that means saying yes to an off-the-cuff invitation. Maybe that means getting in a kayak.
The metaphor is obvious and cliché, but there is something to be said about going with the flow. The ask was casual and it happened. I went with it; the same could be true about the rest of that weekend. But even when going with the flow, moving forward with intention and working to stay oriented correctly takes strength and work.
Featured Image: A slower, calmer section of Fish Canyon on the Wind River, Wyoming. Photo: lg
Author’s Note: Hi and thanks for reading this. I’ve been gone from this platform for a long time. Many half-written drafts have lingered in various notebooks and folders and on different devices and platforms. I kept wanting to work on something, to put something out there, and the energy and subjects and heart never felt right. Thank you for your patience as I continue to find the desire and words to put my thoughts and experiences out to the world. Earlier this month, I opened my home page for the first time in a while and noted that July 30th, 2024 was the last time I had posted something; in that I found a deadline for my next post, and am glad to have gotten this out before July 30th, 2026. Hopefully it is not another two years before I return to this medium.
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