I
pull the strap through the buckle, tightening down the last bit of equipment
into the raft. I check my gear once more . . . carabiners are locked . . . my
PFD is snug. As I look out on the gentle current moving by, I can hear the trip
leader finishing up their safety talk behind me. I take a long, deep,
deliberate breath. Every spring, there is always that “first trip back, ” and
with it usually comes some nervous energy, an anxious anticipation. But this
year’s first trip carries with it a little more weight. I have been thinking
about this one for a little bit longer than usual.
Last
year my river season came to an abrupt end in the form of a dislocated right
shoulder at the bottom of a Class V rapid on the Upper Gauley.
Thanks to friends and fellow paddlers, I was safely evacuated from the river.
While on the river bank, guides used their Wilderness Medicine training and
were able to reduce the dislocation. Although there were moments of extreme
pain, what was actually more intense was the creeping thought that my shoulder
might not ever be the same. The off season consisted of 7 months of
rehabilitation and strength training, working to regain full range of motion
and mobility. But even after all the rehab and the winter paddling and the fact
the my shoulder was feeling really good, I knew that none of it would compare
to that first trip back. It was not only a physical hurdle, but more so a
mental one that I knew I would have to face.
One
of the most important lessons I have learned from my years of guiding and
spending time out on these wild rivers is the importance and the value that
exists in pushing myself both mentally and physically. There is so much that
can be realized about oneself through the act of taking risks. For the last 11
years, I have had many opportunities to be a part of other people pushing
themselves and taking risks as well. Guiding my guests down world class stretches of whitewater and seeing how empowering it is for
people to engage with nature is the most rewarding part of my job. There is
something that exists in the wildness of a river and in each of us that often
does not get tapped into in everyday life. It is what I come back for year
after year. It is why I find myself rigging this raft and standing at this
put-in this morning.
Hours later we have run the last rapid and are at the take out. The
boats are loaded and high fives have been given all around. I can hear the boy scouts and troop leaders reliving their day as they get on the bus. I look out on the
gentle current moving by and take a long, deep, deliberate breath. This has
been a good first trip back.
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