I never would have guessed that I'd become a "River Rat" in my mid-twenties. I love the outdoors, my home state of Colorado and a shot of adrenaline every once in a while, so whitewater rafting should have been the perfect fit. But I was terrified of moving water.
Growing up on River Road, the river was both enthralling and terrifying. A rushing ditch flowed in the middle of our yard, with a wall made of river rocks and concrete as a barrier. It was just tall enough for a small child to lean over. To get a good look, you'd have to let your feet off the ground and lean over, which terrified my mom. She warned my brother and me that witches lived down there to keep us from even peeking. When we would walk through the back pasture to the river’s edge, my grandma would sternly warn us about the undercurrent. She explained how the surface looked smooth and calm to lure you in, but underneath was powerful, churning and could suck you under.
This all stuck somewhere in my psyche. For years, I stayed away from the river. A deep respect for the river's power and unpredictability was forever instilled in me.
It took some time, but my perception changed when I worked at Partners, a youth mentoring program. Joe Higgins, the founder, was a real-life river rat. The kind you only find in Colorado. He believed in the power of the river, nature as a healer of all human ills, and had a brain so full of John Wesley Powell quotes and other knowledge, that it was awe-inspiring. Even though I had to fight panic attacks, I caught a little bit of the fever before I even helped inflate one of our ancient, non-profit rafts.
Before I knew it, I found myself running rapids; guiding kids to discover the magic of the river. I spent nine years with the Partners program. Nine summers of the Moab daily, Glenwood Springs, the Gates of Lodore on the Green River and the Yampa River. Hundreds of kids, pounds of cold chicken lunches and the most rewarding experience I could imagine.
Everything Joe had said was true. The river changes you. I saw it in the kids. I saw it in myself. Kids who never had a chance to be kids had the chance to swim, have water fights and eat all the food they wanted on the warm sand. We all learned. We learned how to rely on each other to paddle through the rapids, and how giving up isn't an option once you're headed downstream. We discovered where to find strength when there's no turning back and how to support the weakest in our group. We realized that strength and weakness are never static; one moment, you could be the strongest paddler and the next, you might be swimming through the scariest rapid, relying on everyone else to pull you back into the boat. We also learned that it's okay to need help and how these experiences relate so much to life. The words of writers and poets made sense.
A few years after leaving Partners, I got married and let my husband run the boat on every trip. I was out of practice. Then, life dealt me a few heavy blows. Divorce and its aftermath filled me with uncertainty and fear. But a seven-day river trip restored my spirit. Despite self-doubt and discouragement, the old river lessons resurfaced, reminding me to look downstream. The experience was transformative, with the river’s immersive therapy helping me rediscover myself.
This May, I took a trip down Ruby & Horsethief Canyons on the Colorado River with my brother, sister-in-law and her friends from college and the slew of kids they all have now. It was their annual “Cinco de Floato” trip, always a weekend close to Cinco de Mayo. They are a fun crowd to spend four days with.
This year, I was doubting what I was capable of again. I had been a shell of myself for months. My boyfriend and best friend, Matt, died suddenly late last year. We were very close. Like my grandma had warned, life seemed somewhat calm and smooth and without warning, the undercurrent swept something important away. It had fooled me and made me complacent, just like she said.
The memories of rafting and Matt were everywhere I looked. Preparing for the trip cut open the still-raw wounds from losing him. But, he was an old Adventure Bound guide who had words of wisdom to share on the river. On a rough Westwater trip, I asked him how he was so confident. "You just get in the current and don't stop rowing. That's all you can do.," he said.
Those words became my guiding light. Just get in the current and don't stop rowing.
But, I went on the trip. I had been hiding away from the world for too long after Matt died and I was still here. I would have to start living again sometime. The trip down Ruby/Horsethief was bittersweet, yet awe-inspiring. I had somehow forgotten how to look up at the sky until I was looking for someone up there.
Being with my brother, his family and friends reminded me of what it was like to live again. I watched my niece and nephew swimming, having water fights, and eating as much food as they wanted on the warm sand. It was as rewarding as it was years ago with Partners.
Rafting holds a special place in my heart. I relive wisdom shared by Joe, the true river rat, my late mother and grandmother, and of course my best friend Matt. I remember what others have taught me; to stay in it, there is only one way out, and that is downriver. When you feel like all choices are taken away from you, or you’re scared, that is a single thing to focus on to clear everything else away for a while; just getting downriver, for now.
This is the kind of therapy that only being outdoors and allowing Mother Nature to challenge your limiting beliefs can bring. I highly recommend it.
Everything Joe had said was true. The river changes you.
The words of writers and poets made sense.