They didn’t want to tell us or we would freak out. That’s my guess. “This is going to be a challenging stretch of water,” Pleeza says. We had a hydrology class in the morning after breakfast and it actually taught me a lot about what to look for on the water and how to handle the current and rocks. Or so I thought.

When we got to the put in, we left our boats and walked over to the first section of rapids. The skies were cold and gray and the water churned below. The river arced to the left, then right and out of sight. We talked about WORMS- Water, Obstacles, Route, and I can’t remember what ‘M and ‘S’ stand for – things to consider when looking at the river. OK, so most of it went right over my head. It was Crabs’ play-by-play orders after my first toss that made sense.

On the very first rapid, the one we scouted, the one I confidently hit, I leaned right, hugging the rock, just as Captain O explained to our ‘class’ this morning. Trouble was Clicks had zipped up on my left and bumped the bottom of my boat sending me upside down. In an instant my boat was right and my head was out of the water. Konvict was right behind Clicks and had Hand of Goded me. That means he reached over and flipped my boat upright. And it did feel like the hand of God had reached down and rescued me. After that, there was Crabs next to me; keeping me safe, explaining what I was seeing down river and how to interpret it for the path I wanted to run. Little good it did me. The next rapid sent me swimming. A wave had hit me sideways and I failed to square up (get the nose of my boat at a 90 degree angle to the wave) in time. I was upside down pulling a total brainfart. I know how to roll just not when it matters. So I pulled my spray skirt and swam out from under my boat. My redemption was climbing back into the kayak while it was still in the water. Captain O and Crabs were holding it between them so I crawled in. Pretty slick but no one seemed to notice. We had a lot of swimmers today.

I stayed dry the rest of the day. No more flips. Actually, I stayed dry all day thanks to the NRS suit the company sent my way. So very thankful. If the water was any colder we’d be skating instead of boating. They sent me a pair of their Maverick Gloves as well. Even if I didn’t boat like a champ, I looked and felt like one. Despite the clouds the scenery along the river painted that wilderness picture you’d expect. Occasionally we’d hit a section where the highway buzzed overhead but for the most part we paddled deep canyons with steep forested hills and rock walls stretching up as high as Marriotts.

At one point we were chilling in an eddy on river left when I spotted mountain goats on the outcroppings above the river. I called to the campers to look up. Sometimes you get so focused on the waves and ripples you forget to look around. We stayed a little bit longer after that.

The staffers didn’t tell us about the river because they didn’t want to frighten us. Good thing. The river kicked our butts anyway but we all made it through safely, exhausted and full of smiles.

After cold cuts again by the river we headed into the park for ‘alternative craft’ day. I shared the SUV with Spoonburg, Symbol, Konvict and Gomez and the laughter was non-stop. Whether it was comedy on the radio or comedy from Spoonburg, the jokes were flying. Konvict’s driving too added to the squeals. When Spoonburg spotted a black bear and her cub, we pulled a super fast U turn, cutting off a truck that was thinking about doing the same thing. Boy was the driver pissed. But we were first in line to snap photos of the bears.

We parked at Logan Peak Visitors Center, hiked a ways up the glacier and hauled ass back down on sleds. I stayed in the car last year and waited. This year, I participated. Something about the group this year was different. I felt welcome and encouraged. Last year at FD1 there were cliques where I felt I didn’t fit in. This time around we were all part of the same clique. It was a riot. Plus, I appreciated the extra leg workout. Sitting in a boat all day doesn’t do much for your quads.

By the campfire tonight I got the Spam hat. Each night the campers pass awards around- the Spam hat for the biggest goofball of the day (which I think should have gone to Konvict but it has to go to a camper), The Captain America Hat (for on land achievement), the silver vest (for on water achievement), and the Nemo Hat (for the biggest swimmer of the day). I was proud to be known as the clown. Apparently I was going nuts on the sled I shared with Clicks. He was the one who passed it to me. The evening ended on a high-note for me. The day did too.

Well we’ve hit the river twice so far and the vibe couldn’t be more different from last year. Yesterday we put into Lake MacDonald and reinforced the skills we had learned- paddle techniques, wet exits even rolling. Pretty much everyone nailed at least one roll- even me. We played two quick games of Sharks and Minnows, had lunch of coldcuts and fruit then it was back into the boats to paddle down the creek. It was a mellow afternoon and a good thing too. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. The gentle rock of my boat on the water nearly sent me to sleep at one point.

It was a sweet day watching everyone get back on the water. For most it’s been a year, for others, a couple. Some campers were doing FD for a third time. It was Tails’ 6^th camp this year alone. When he’s done this summer, the blind camper will have 14 FD camps under his belt.

We had just popped out of the suburbans. Time to unload and dress!

 

My boat. They call me Scoop. Everyone at camp gets a nickname from the moment they arrive. In FD 1 we didn’t know real names until we were back at home and the email list was distributed. This time we take it amongst ourselves to learn everyone’s real name on Day 1.

My new womens Immersion drysuit fom NRS. Looking forward to testing it this week. It’s a Medium (I’m 120, 5’6″). Feels a bit big but the staffers say it’s the right size for me.

‘Burping’ the suit to get all of the air out. It’s kind of cool feeling like a giant ballon that’s deflating.

Time for the wet suit where you roll over and pull your sprayskirt. This technique will be used a lot by me this week.

But I did get my Eskimo roll!

B

Brad Ludden, the man who started it all is on the far left. Without his desire to share the river with cancer survivors none of us would be here this week.

So far so good. The awkwardness from the first First Descents camp last summer is gone. I know what to expect. Also, I’m not so scared anymore; maybe because I spread my disclaimer around: I’m not a ‘group hug’ person. I tell this to everyone around the campfire tonight. Our first act of ‘mushy’. Up until this point it’s been exciting and comfortable. We grabbed our gear, sized up our boats, had some grub (spaghetti and meatballs with sorbet for dessert) and sat around getting acquainted. DING DING DING. Sharing time. Gather round the firepit. Must we really make everyone go around and say what they feel will be different this second time around? How about we just introduce ourselves and tell a funny story? Or talk to the person next to us then share with the group something we learned about him? We did that as a listening exercise in acting class once.

Here we go- FD changed one woman’s life, another said she didn’t think she’d make it to her 35^th birthday much less be here for her third FD camp. Don’t misunderstand me, I enjoy hearing everyone’s tale. They are testimonies to inner strength and our ability to perservere. It’s just that I’d rather sit quietly and listen.

I don’t ‘share’ to share and I hate crying in front of ANYONE. I’m not about to change that because I’m in an environment where everyone can relate, empathize and encourage each other to surpass their expectations and inhibitions. I give great anecdotes, jokes and insight. Talk of feelings occurs in the one on one conversations…maybe.

We have about 12 campers and almost the same number of staffers. So Konvict says “what you get out of this camp is what you put in” as he glances over to me. Was that on purpose? I’m 100 positive he’s right but that doesn’t make me more apt to sing Kumbaya. I’m more like a guy when it comes to vulnerablity. I just don’t dig it. My psyche tells me it’s not safe and I’ve adapted.

Like a puma going for its prey, my parents would see an opening and take it on a regular basis when I was growing up. Some – many- comments were downrght cruel. My dad would pick on us at dinner. Maybe it was a game to him. Which kid could he crush emotionally tonight? Maybe he had no clue what he was doing. Often my brother would get so upset his lower lip would tremble as he held back tears. Then it was go time for Dad as he dealt the final verbal blow to send my sibling wailing down the hallway and into his room. You learn to be tough when life’s like that. You don’t want to be next.

So do I make my goal for FD2- learn to be vulnerable and discover deeper connections? Or just to become a better kayaker?

I totally understand why more women than men take advantage of the FD program. I wouldn’t say men are ‘afraid’ of the emotions but they are definitely not comfortable putting them out there for strangers. Even ones that will share your space for five days and offer you a T rescue. That’s me too. At least for now I know those around won’t take the lack of mush as a sign of indifference or disdain like they did last year.

 

I did a stupid thing. I sat up on top of the Cliff Lodge and pretended it was like I was back in high school where I could stretch out on a lounge chair, flip through a Cosmo and soak up the sun. Less than an hour later my upper thighs are on fire. Even my chest got fried despite the SPF 50 I slapped on. I needed this morning of chill. I blew up at Ryan, and Sage was hitting the back of my leg in response to the anger. I snapped her up and forcefully plopped her on my bed, making her cry. All hell was swirling. I feel like I can’t get in front of the 8 ball. Ever since Punta Cana I’ve been playing catch up without success. Looking ahead 10 days I’ll be back home and can breathe again. I will do nothing but hunt for a new laptop, write and climb. Maybe kayak too. I don’t see me pulling a C to C on account of the ATV crushing my ribs but at least I can paddle.

I wonder if I’m doing the right thing going on another First Descents trip; not because I’m taking advantage of the offering- an all-expense paid whitewater kayak adventure on the Flathead River in Glacier National Forest- but because I may not be welcome. That ‘chat’ I had with Whitney (one of the FD organizers) questioning whether FD was the right place for me really rattled my ego. Like a breakup from a guy when I thought things were going well, I thought, “Huh?” I wouldn’t have signed up for a second camp if I didn’t get something out of the camp last year. It was my feedback. It’s got to be. Perhaps they’re used to only hearing raves. Who would say anything negative when they get it for free? But I was critical- like I always am- not in a bad way or so I thought- but I offered up some constructive feedback that a company looking to forever improve should want to hear. I’m guessing they took it as me attacking their program; which I wasn’t. I explained that of course I had an amazing time why else would I want to attend again? My sole gripe was that I felt forced to bond and share emotions. I just wanted to meet new friends (who have something in common) and learn to kayak. I wasn’t looking for therapy.

This is the first year in 11 that FD will host camps for 2^nd timers. The first year- just get them down the river. Young cancer survivors testing their determination and living in the moment instead of dwelling on cancer. Many were introduced to something they never in their life thought they would be doing. Now, the second year- turn them into kayakers. The staff is excited about the new offering and so am I. To start up where I left off. Physically, not emotionally. To hone in more time on the river. But I may be entering hostile waters…and Konvict is our leader again. History. It may not be a good thing in this case. It was his job last year to force bonds and make us all share with those nightly campfire chats and I’m pretty sure he told Whitney that I often checked out. She called and we talked. She said that maybe this time around I should tell everyone that I’m an introvert when it comes to sharing emotions so no one takes it personally. I’m more nervous about the group stuff than I am about the paddling. Gulp.