I love the water. I grew up by the sea and I live in a river town. Yet, I have a fear - death by drowning. Despite the efforts of my mother, the swimming champion, I have never learned to swim. Rafting down the Colorado River with swift current, rocks and rapids seems a likely place to face my fear. I was told I didn’t need to know how to swim, I just need to be able to float. And, with a life jacket on, there is nothing to it. Just kick back and relax. Ha!
The first day on the river, life jackets aren’t required. It is flat. It is beautiful. The river is flowing, flowing. A couple of hours down the river and I need to pee. The instructions are to put on the life jacket and lower yourself into the water.
I cling to the rope and feel the water creep up my legs and waist and then suddenly my feet are sucked under the raft. I stop breathing, panic sets in. Oh my! Jan leans over and speaks gently.
It’s okay. Just relax. Laura springs closer and leans over. You’re fine. Just relax. Go ahead and pee. Laura says I’m going to pull you up by your life jacket. Just straighten your legs and I’ll lift you in.
I straighten my legs. What’s this? My feet touch bottom. The water is only 3 feet deep. Laura heaves me into the raft. They say my knuckles were white (that’s something since I am brown skinned). I feel tension in my jaws as I relax my clenched teeth. I start breathing again.
The next day everyone wants to swim. I must learn to float. I sit in the water, close to the shore, and slowly sidle towards the middle of the river. The warm water covers my body. Page offers to stay with me and hold my hand while we float. I see the others in the water. Some single, some paired. They look as if they are sitting in armchairs floating down the river.
The river is flowing, flowing. I sidle further in. I try to lift my butt which is firmly attached to the river bottom. I can’t seem to let go of terra firma. I am holding back the group. The guides in the rafts need to follow the swimmers. I can’t do it. I thank Page and get into a raft. I envy the swimmers, the kayakers, and the guides. It looks like so much fun!
Now we are just one day ahead of “rapids day”. I absolutely have to learn to float before we do the rapids. There is the possibility of raft tipping. My fear of death by drowning surfaces occasionally and I beat it down. I laugh in the face of danger. I really do need to practice floating. We pull over to shore for a break and everyone is in the water (probably peeing).
The river is flowing, flowing. We have our life jackets on. I hold onto a rope attached to a raft and lift my legs off the river bottom to get a feel for floating. My feet are sucked under the raft.
Erin comes over and suggests letting go of the rope and floating away from the raft. She stands a few feet away and I float towards her. She catches me and helps me grab the rope again. Pretty soon others come over and form a barrier, arms outstretched, to stop me from floating into the current. I start further away from Erin and float towards her. I see loving arms open wide, caring faces looking at me. I feel safe. It takes a few times and I can float.
I can let go. I float. My river journey is with me and it carries me. My life is just beginning.
Copyright Fee Jacobsen 2008 All Rights Reserved
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Find out how to join Page Lambert on on of her 2008 creative writing adventures at www.pagelambert.com.
