River Redux

It seems I'm managing about one blog entry a week now that I'm back from vacation and trying to work at my "job" where they "pay me". Oh well, until I become a fabulously wealthy graduate student, this will have to be good enough. I don't even know if people are reading this anymore cause I can't figure out how to set up the counter thing. Sigh. Anyway...here goes, another attempt to reach outside myself through chronicling my life (how paradoxical, no?).

This past Saturday I went white water rafting on the American River with a group of friends from work. The company, Mariah, suggested by my friend David was chosen because they are women owned and he (and we assumed) would be a good one to support. Finding a car to drive up there was challenging and the fact we needed to be there by 8am and it was a 3 hour drive from S.F. was daunting. Nevertheless, a borrowed vehicle was secured, directions were printed, alarms were set, and I arose at 5am to make it up to Auburn, CA in time to catch a van to the river.

The borrowed car was a stick and since I can't drive stick, my traveling buddies, Teague and Anne, did all the driving while I rested my eyes (lucky me). We found our way to the parking lot and David arrived with his cadre of boys shortly after. Any time I travel outside the Gay Mecca, into the wider straight world of boring gender conformity, I am reminded of how much I truly love the homosexuals. It was delightful to see four long lanky men with spiky hair, goggles, and tight cut off pants, looking like some of the Lost Boys from the 1990's Peter Pan movie, emerge from the Zip car.

The first disappointment came when we realized that we were not all going to get to be in the same boat together. The boats sad 6 and there were 7 of us, so we split up 4 in one boat and 3 in the other. The 4 boys had one boat all to themselves and the 3 girls went in another boat with 3 other strangers. As a joke in an email, David suggested that we watch Deliverance before going up. I have never seen the movie, however, the story was reference and discussed by my rafting guide, Rick O'Shea throughout the day. At first, in the parking lot before we took off, I thought they were calling him "Ricochet", maybe they were. He was a leathery man, his skin was tanned a deep reddish brown, in his mid-40s, with a crass sense of humor who enjoyed lording his power and wisdom as river guide over the captive paddlers on the boat (us).

When we first pushed off, the other boats did exercises, paddling in circles, but not us. We just sat there watching them. "They're practicing," Rick explained, but we didn't need that, as long as we paid attention and did what he told us. "Paddle bitches!" was his rallying cry. "Ass clown" was the word of the day, used to describe all manner of man and beast. I think it's a West Virginian expression because the only other person I have ever heard use it is also from W.V. Rick told us that if we found him offensive than we should shout "Shock Limit" or something, our safe word. I didn't think that was going to be necessary, but it was.

I was in the front with Anne, because that is where we had been standing in the parking lot, much to the chagrin of the two dudes in the back who wanted to be in control of setting the pace. Rick began blabbering on about himself, it was his last day running the river, and he was heading back to West Virginia. A self-professed "red-neck", he had crazy stories about getting busted smuggling corn liquor and weed into Colorado. Perhaps I am naive, but I was not aware that people made moon shine anymore. However, Rick set me straight. It was clear he fancied himself a storyteller, and he orientated us to the do's and don't of paddling the river with tales of misfortune that had befallen naive rafters. Often he would say "but the really cool thing was..." and then tell us how someone had gotten injured or killed. "Darwinism is alive and well on the river, folks!" He gleefully proclaimed.

I don't know if I should blame, Darwin, God, myself, Rick or bad luck but after getting soaked in freezing cold water a few too many times, I elected to switch to the middle seat where I would get less wet. Things didn't exactly work out that way since I promptly got thrown out of the raft in class 4 rapids. The whole experience was weird and disorienting, one minute I was in the boat and then we started to tip and water was rushing on me in all directions. I was leaning in, but then I got confused about why I was leaning in and stopped resisting for a moment and then I was sucked away. I didn't understand what happened until I surfaced, the water moved me very quickly and when I figured out that I was in the water, far away from the boat and still in rocky rapids, I became terrified. But I followed the directions I had been told ("Don't swim on your belly and don't stand up!"), pointed my feet downstream and floated with my toes pointing up. Still this was no defense against the river, I was being battered about like a little twig and rocks were coming out at me and there was nothing I could do.

Later Teague and Anne told me I looked very calm and serene, but I was screaming at God in my head. "Why are you doing this to me God? I try to be a good person, haven't I been through enough? I have to get tossed out of the boat and die on these rocks? I hate you!" It was not a good moment for me and my higher power.

I could hear people shouting at me from behind, but the rushing of the water was thundering in my ears so I couldn't hear what they were saying and I was too scared to turn over on my belly to try to swim to them. Finally the boat came into view and I swam towards them, moving slowly against the current despite all of my efforts. I grabbed the oar that Teague held out to me and they pulled me up by my life vest and hauled me back into the boat.

I sat down trembling from fear and cold. I apologized for losing my oar and Rick told me that I should have held on it like a real woman: "I know you like to work the shaft but you have to hold on to the t-grip."

"That's very comforting." I replied. The river felt like it was inside me, up my nose, in my ears, I was freezing down to my very core and soon my teeth started chattering. "Take your wet shirt off," Anne suggested. That helped but I was still cold. At the suggestion of his girlfriend, a fellow guide, Rick eventually offered me his thermal. I hated him so much at that point I would have declined but Anne saw me hesitating and ordered me to take the shirt.

"Can you fit it over your breastses?" He asked me.

"No worry there," I told him. I couldn't believe he was sexually harassing me after my traumatizing experience.

The day continued on like that, with Rick telling inappropriate jokes ranging from making fun of "retards" to domestic violence. It was a shame, because the scenery was beautiful and he just rambled on with his ridiculous platitudes. He seemed to have burned out all his braincells with drugs years before and had very little info about the land or river to share.

The boys had a nice river guide and once they learned about what had happened David was upset for us. He even sent an email to the company asking for a refund for Teague, Anne, and myself. They wrote back very concerned but said that Rick was shocked, as everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. It's just not easy to speak out when someone who seems to have the emotional maturity of a 13 year old is controlling a little plastic boat in dangerous waters.