SINGLE PARENTING DOWN THE SNAKE
by Brenda Elwell, CTC
The alarm went off at 5:00am. After three leisurely days of hiking
and sightseeing through Yellowstone National Park it was a rude awakening.
The day before, we had left Yellowstone for the brief drive south to
Grand Teton National Park, where we had reservations for a spacious,
comfy cabin at Colter Bay, located next to a sparkling lake surrounded
by the spectacular Tetons. The early July air was frosty as I stepped
out of the cabin to check the weather. After ten days on the trail with
three kids, (two were mine, one was borrowed), I found it easier to
get dressed myself, then wake the boys, then last, my teen-aged daughter.
In our family she was the fastest dresser. Go figure.
By 6:00am we were all in the car, heading for a light breakfast and
the starting-point of our all day rafting excursion of the Snake River.
We had researched and carefully chosen an outfit called Dave Hansen's
Whitewater for three reasons:
· They had an excellent reputation and claimed to have never
lost a customer.
· The rafting trips were U-Paddle, i.e. everyone paddles. The
kids and I wanted to be active participants all the way. Besides, I
assumed it would take our minds off our terror. (It did).
· They offered a combination trip called Best of Both Worlds
which was still water rafting in the morning and white water in the
afternoon. (You had the option to bail out midway if you lost your courage.
None of us did).
At 7:00am sharp our river guide pulled up to the office on his motorcycle.
He looked like a leftover version of a 60's hippie with straggly beard
and thick sandals. All that was missing to complete the picture was
the tie-dye shirt. Hoping we hadn't been assigned one of society's disgruntled
dropouts, I expressed my misgivings to my kids, who immediately assailed
me with comments such as "Mom, you always taught us not to pre-judge
people and now you are doing it!" I was soon to eat my words. Our
river guide turned out to be one of those wonderful people who is truly
in love with his work. He knew the family history and personality of
every bird and animal we saw and had names for all.
At mid morning we disembarked for a one hour break as we were fitted
into body suits and life jackets and given a forty minute briefing in
preparation for our white water trip. We were told that if we fell overboard,
the problem was not that the raft would leave us behind, quite the contrary.
We would need to back paddle with our hands to slow our speed so the
raft could catch up. As a single parent with one kid on loan, I felt
a little better about that. It's one thing to lose your own child on
a trip; it's an entirely different matter to lose somebody else's. Back
in my BK period (Before Kids), I was a free-wheeling spirit, always
ready to race down an expert ski trail in the Rockies or the Alps, but
once I became a parent, and later a single parent, I became more fearful.
So here I was, once again, apprehensive inside, but trying to look like
Super Cool Mom on the outside.
We were a mixed bag of fourteen people in our party - young, old, Westerners,
Easterners and Europeans. When the guide called for two front paddlers,
my daughter Monique leapt forward to left front, along with a little
slip of a woman from Wyoming who took the right. I chose a position
as front bailer, with the boys somewhere behind me. We practiced some
maneuvers in still water and it soon became obvious my position was
well chosen. Both my kids are dyslexic and neither can tell left from
right very quickly. When the guide would yell from the rear "Left
side paddle!" I would translate that to "Monique, paddle!"
to achieve a quicker response.
Shortly thereafter we headed into our first set of rapids, called Lunch
Counter, from which we emerged victorious, soaked, and invigorated.
My aching arms welcomed the period of still water. I suddenly realized
why we had on body suits. In contrast to the bright summer sun, the
water was icy cold. With all the adrenaline pumping through my body,
I hadn't noticed the chill until now. The kids were having a ball, whooping
and hollering. Piece of cake, I thought. Then we came to the second
set of rapids - three huge waves called the Big Kahuna. As we paddled
into the first one, an enormous wall of water, I had no idea how we
would survive, but we did. The force of the second wave tore the rubber
band off my waterproof camera wrapped around my wrist. It also thrust
the petite Wyoming lady up into the air. Her burly husband, seated behind
her, grabbed her, shoved her forward and yelled, "Keep paddling!"
By the time we emerged from the third wave we were all coughing up river
water, which had slammed into our nostrils under high pressure. It was
the first and only time in my life I was glad I didn't have one of those
cute upturned noses.
The last set of rapids, called Cottonwoods, though not as big as the
others, was much longer, and became a test of endurance. Our guide was
so pleased with our teamwork he had us perform a 360 degree victory
turn before docking. We were all on such an adrenaline high that our
soaking clothes had turned to merely damp by the time we finished the
sandwiches that awaited us. Having once again secured my status as Super
Cool Mom, we changed clothes and headed off for our evening's single
parent travel adventure, but that's another story.
Author's note:
Ø Children of any age can participate in still water rafting.
Ø Outfitters usually have a minimum age of eight years for white
water excursions.
Ø Several outfitters have told me that white water excursions
are very popular with single moms and their teen-age sons, as it gives
them the opportunity to share a fun-filled, safe, macho experience.
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