Why I Never Canoe

Stuff From Ellen's Head had a wonderful post today about going up a river.  She helped me decide what to post today.  Her tale was so wonderfully exciting, I thought I would share mine.

These are borrowed pictures from the tourist web site so I guess I am breaking no rules.

The beauty of Spring River is hard to imagine.  It has easy floats and some more difficult ones.

A few years ago, Hubby decided to take me canoeing, which may be spelled wrong, but it does not matter since I will never be spelling canoe again.

First l want you to know, I am not a water dog in any form or fashion.  We fished growing up.  My grandmother insisted we not get in the water until we learned how to swim.  Our big water trip was twice a year to some swimming hole.

So Hubby talks me into a canoe ride...no problem, honey, I will do the paddling and I promise not to tip you over.

We hit an easy float on Spring...right!  We stayed left as that was supposed to be the easy route, I now think the guide may have said, stay right, if you want to live.

I have never been in a canoe.  I do not know how to swim.  I have that life vest triple tied onto my body.  I have all my possessions in a plastic bag with an air pocket so it will float.  Now, this should have been a hint when they are telling you how to make your possesions safe, but I trusted Hubby.  With his track record, I should not have been so believing.

We take off on a gentle meandering beautiful river and then I hear a noise like I have never heard before.  I looked back at Hubby, his position has shifted, his paddle poised with a grin from ear to ear.  When I turned back, I stared face to face with an before unseen nightmare of mine...WHITE WATER.

Hubby proceeds to tell me all is fine as I grip the canoe sides enough to dent them.  We hang to the left, the water is shallow and we are moving fast.  I decide it is time to get out so I place one foot on the bank...not a good idea.  We spun around, I dropped my paddle and Hubby is laughing while I am saying, shit, oh, shit.

We finally leave this narrow safe left fork and the whole river opens up to smooth sailing and then I hear that dreaded noise again.  I know now, the spot we are facing is called a chute but I thought it was a clear road to death.

By this time I am speechless as my tiny hands grip the hollows I have made in the canoe's edges.

Hubby does pull over to the bank and says we will watch these people and if they make it, so can we.  The first canoe capsizes!  The second one makes it through.  The third, after some hairy maneuvers does make it.  Two out of three tells Hubby we can make it.

This is the point where I would have put my foot down if I could have without turning over the canoe!  I am not going through that chute!!!   Hubby and I  walk the canoe around the water fall.  He saw me crying and the screams of pure terror are making people look at us so he agrees not to take me through the chute.

Maybe my screams were misinterpreted as screams of delight. Hubby says load up, I can do this and we pop through the chute before I know to hold on.  We made it!  He did not tip me out.

I shall never go canoeing again.

Happy Easter and thanks Ellen for the subject of my post today.