Another day on the river
Kayaking is like nothing I've done before. I have done the same bit of river four times now, which would tend to start to bore me, except for the part where it's a little different every time due to the water height and flow changes. And the part where I end up traversing different bits with my face in the water.
Yesterday I got through the named rapid just fine, and I felt more stable than I had before, but at some point further downriver I hit a hole sideways, and it flipped me over. Except not all the way, due to some odd buoyancy. I was basically sideways, and it turns out one's instincts do not lead one to do the right thing of tucking and going under fully for a clean attempt at a roll. One fights to keep one's head up above all else, and then one can do nothing else. Teff got over to me fast enough that I should have been able to do a bow rescue, but I was extended back far enough that it wasn't working. If I'd realized what the problem was I would have been able to adjust, but I couldn't tell why I couldn't do it, just that I couldn't. So I swam. And that was cold.
Teff delivered me to the side of the river and went off to chase my boat and my paddle. I was surprised that my feet didn't start to hurt from the cold. I was relatively comfortable, especially since my dry top, hair, and leggings kept the mosquitoes at bay.
I knew enough river sign language to tell the raft guide that I was ok, with a pat on my head and a thumbs up. But how was I going to meet up with Teff and my boat? You're not supposed to walk in a river, though I couldn't really get ashore where I was. I could probably have walked about 100 feet upstream to the county park we had just passed, but then how would I make contact with Teff? How would he know where to find me? He wasn't going to be able to paddle all the way back upstream, was he?
No, as it turns out, he only made it about halfway upstream, and then he was close enough to gesture that I should come to him. So I started walking, except I was pretty convinced I wouldn't be able to get all the way to him by walking. And that I shouldn't be walking in the river. That's how you get a twisted ankle, or pushed down by the current, or other bad things happen.
So Teff made this odd gesture with his hands, kind of like dog paddling, but kind of not. I started floating down feet first, like I had learned I was supposed to, but it was scary too. Then Teff made swimming motions with his hands, but I didn't understand until later that he was trying to mean I should use my arms to get more to the middle of the current, to go through the (tiny) rapids towards him, not towards shore. I finally figured it out. I almost got my foot stuck once between rocks, and I think that was the best lesson I'm ever going to have to never do that again. Feet forward always.
I clung to the back of Teff's boat, and he paddled a little way down river where my boat and paddle were. And then we sat there for a while as I warmed up. And the adrenaline wore off, which made me colder. I watched the sand glint in the sunlight. Were those really gold flakes? We were just down river from Sutter's Mill, but it seemed like that was an awful lot of gold for people to not be panning down here. After Teff tested a little in his teeth, he declared it likely to be mica, given the way it flaked rather than bent. Very technical.
I finally pulled myself together and we made it the next half mile to Camp Lotus, where we could take out. I was disappointed that I wasn't going to make it two miles further, which would have been a new section of the river, but given how shaky and worn out I was, it seemed unnecessarily dumb to try. Maybe next week.
Teff ran it himself to get a view of it so he would be able to guide me better when we did make it that far. Apparently there were a few bigger rapids, but there were routes to avoid them.
I sat back and watched the rafters take out, and thought about how slow a learning curve I was accepting for myself in kayaking. I couldn't push myself to go further this time, but I still wanted to come back and do more, again. And about how I usually hate an adrenaline rush. On a bike it usually makes me hate the driver or myself, whomever was more at fault. And it might make me cry. But here on the river, I couldn't hate the river or myself, and therefore it didn't push me into crying.
After that, it was onto fresh strawberries and burgers from Redrum Burger in Davis, where I almost bit off Teff's hand protecting my share of the french fries. Good french fries.
Yesterday I got through the named rapid just fine, and I felt more stable than I had before, but at some point further downriver I hit a hole sideways, and it flipped me over. Except not all the way, due to some odd buoyancy. I was basically sideways, and it turns out one's instincts do not lead one to do the right thing of tucking and going under fully for a clean attempt at a roll. One fights to keep one's head up above all else, and then one can do nothing else. Teff got over to me fast enough that I should have been able to do a bow rescue, but I was extended back far enough that it wasn't working. If I'd realized what the problem was I would have been able to adjust, but I couldn't tell why I couldn't do it, just that I couldn't. So I swam. And that was cold.
Teff delivered me to the side of the river and went off to chase my boat and my paddle. I was surprised that my feet didn't start to hurt from the cold. I was relatively comfortable, especially since my dry top, hair, and leggings kept the mosquitoes at bay.
I knew enough river sign language to tell the raft guide that I was ok, with a pat on my head and a thumbs up. But how was I going to meet up with Teff and my boat? You're not supposed to walk in a river, though I couldn't really get ashore where I was. I could probably have walked about 100 feet upstream to the county park we had just passed, but then how would I make contact with Teff? How would he know where to find me? He wasn't going to be able to paddle all the way back upstream, was he?
No, as it turns out, he only made it about halfway upstream, and then he was close enough to gesture that I should come to him. So I started walking, except I was pretty convinced I wouldn't be able to get all the way to him by walking. And that I shouldn't be walking in the river. That's how you get a twisted ankle, or pushed down by the current, or other bad things happen.
So Teff made this odd gesture with his hands, kind of like dog paddling, but kind of not. I started floating down feet first, like I had learned I was supposed to, but it was scary too. Then Teff made swimming motions with his hands, but I didn't understand until later that he was trying to mean I should use my arms to get more to the middle of the current, to go through the (tiny) rapids towards him, not towards shore. I finally figured it out. I almost got my foot stuck once between rocks, and I think that was the best lesson I'm ever going to have to never do that again. Feet forward always.
I clung to the back of Teff's boat, and he paddled a little way down river where my boat and paddle were. And then we sat there for a while as I warmed up. And the adrenaline wore off, which made me colder. I watched the sand glint in the sunlight. Were those really gold flakes? We were just down river from Sutter's Mill, but it seemed like that was an awful lot of gold for people to not be panning down here. After Teff tested a little in his teeth, he declared it likely to be mica, given the way it flaked rather than bent. Very technical.
I finally pulled myself together and we made it the next half mile to Camp Lotus, where we could take out. I was disappointed that I wasn't going to make it two miles further, which would have been a new section of the river, but given how shaky and worn out I was, it seemed unnecessarily dumb to try. Maybe next week.
Teff ran it himself to get a view of it so he would be able to guide me better when we did make it that far. Apparently there were a few bigger rapids, but there were routes to avoid them.
I sat back and watched the rafters take out, and thought about how slow a learning curve I was accepting for myself in kayaking. I couldn't push myself to go further this time, but I still wanted to come back and do more, again. And about how I usually hate an adrenaline rush. On a bike it usually makes me hate the driver or myself, whomever was more at fault. And it might make me cry. But here on the river, I couldn't hate the river or myself, and therefore it didn't push me into crying.
After that, it was onto fresh strawberries and burgers from Redrum Burger in Davis, where I almost bit off Teff's hand protecting my share of the french fries. Good french fries.