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Show 225 random dipping of her paddle into this maelstrom is keeping their canoe on course. Allen does not dissuade her misperception. My youngest son had been paired with me for the first few hours. Long enough for me to realize, as the storm worsened minute by minute and the bumps and tumbles of chilling water began breeching the gunwales, that this was not the flat-water trip down an autumn-calmed wilderness river it was supposed to be. Long enough for me to realize that my muscles, so strong when united in involuntary spasm, are truly weak when performing voluntary labors. Long enough for me to realize that my son's terror at the real possibility of capsizing was only matched by my own at the thought of his plunging into this wild and frigid river. He is now securely paired with a strong volunteer, a large man whose muscles I can trust. I am paired with a nurse, by profession - a requirement of my going on this trip - whose avocation is traversing wilderness areas with her husband, on foot, in rafts, at the ends of ropes, in canoes. Her husband is now in a distant canoe with a different partner. My oldest son and his father are also partnered. Their challenge was announced within their first minute in the canoe when their inexperience took them too close to the shore and the tamarisk had reached out to ensnare them. They have since learned to work together. Our oldest daughter, now sixteen, is paired with a volunteer just a few years her senior. Their girlish voices can be heard in the moments of calmer winds, echoed laughter against the high canyon walls, daring the storm to stop them. |
