“I’m going to lead a women’s yoga and kayaking retreat on the Rogue River at the end of June,” announced my twenty-three-year-old yoga teacher. My arm shot up when she asked if anyone in the class might be interested in attending. I’d been looking for an opportunity to go kayaking for seven years and there was no way I was going to miss it when it arrived dressed as a women’s retreat.“Those who don’t want to kayak can ride in the raft,” Kelly continued. Not want to kayak? How could anyone not want to kayak? My experience seven years earlier had been in a wooden kayak on a lagoon. The kayak sat low in the water and the thrill of “being the water” had made me ache for more of such experiences. “No raft for me,” I said, “I’m going to kayak.”
Kelly effused about how we would do yoga and meditation and have a fabulous outdoor meal on Friday night and then camp overnight. More yoga and meditation before breakfast in the morning and then at 9:00 we’d be picked up by our river guides. Even though I’m not an avid camper and knew I would have a restless night on the hard ground, nothing was going to stop me from kayaking the Rogue River.
And kayak I did. As we stood at the edge of the Rogue and got fitted with life jackets, our appointed guide, a highly experienced woman in her fifties, jumped into the raft. “Who’s coming in the raft with me?” Four of our band of eleven women moved toward Carrie. They tried to lure me, the oldest in the bunch, into the raft. “No way, I want one of these shiny red inflatable kayaks.” They gave me a new one to christen.
Many of the other six kayakers wore bikini bathing suits and baseball caps. I was determined not to have sunburn cut my experience short, so had covered all over and had a wide-brimmed sunhat. I was proud to be wearing Tevas - real river shoes - a leftover from my previous kayaking adventure. I lathered sun block on the little bit of exposed skin as our life-jacket fitter showed us how to hold the paddle long side up. Then he helped each of us into our kayak and pushed us away from the shore. “Oops,” I thought, “is that all of the instruction we get?”
Two sixteen-year-olds, a boy and a girl, were in kayaks on the river. Eric and Kelly (same name as my yoga teacher) were introduced as the kayak guides. The guy would take the lead and the girl would bring up the rear. Eric took off and some of the women followed. All I could remember was that you moved the paddle from side to side, pushing back against the water. I started paddling.
The inflatable kayak sat on top of the water and was easily taken by the currents of the river. Just then a big boat whizzed by and I started going around in a circle. “Oops, how do you stop this? Oh well, when it faces forward again I’ll just paddle fast. Oh. Oh, there’s a rock up ahead.” Not knowing how to get around the rock, I held my oar out in front to keep from crashing. I used the oar to push away from the rock and by shifting the oar around the rock I managed to get past it alright.
Eric motioned for us to gather round him. He explained how we would go through the first rapid. He would take the lead and we should follow, doing exactly what he did, staying on the right side of the river. The raft would come through last. Guide Kelly came up to my side. “I think you need to put the oar more deeply into the water,” she said in a friendly voice. “Thanks, Kelly. I’ll try.”
I was in the middle of the nine kayaks. I kept focused on Eric and paddled as deeply and as hard as I could. The kayak shot forward, crashing into waves that came cascading over me. The cold water was shockingly delicious under the hot sun. I kept paddling with deep and strong motions. “Thank God for all of the rotations I’ve done in Pilates class,” flashed through my mind. More waves and showers of cold water and we were through the rapid. I was breathless from the exertion but also from the excitement. “That was so much fun,” I thought.
Kelly came by and flashed me a smile. “You did great,” she said. The rafting guide motioned for all of the kayaks to gather around her in a shallow quiet area. “Does anyone want to get into the raft now? We can deflate a kayak at any time.” None of the seven kayaking retreaters raised their hands. Carrie called out, “LiDoña?” I shook my head, smiled and yelled, “No. I’m fine.”
Another big boat went past and I started bumping into the other kayaks. “I don’t know how to keep from running into you,” I said to no one in particular. Kelly came over. “Look, if you push the paddle forward instead of backward, the kayak changes direction.” I did as she instructed and low and behold, the kayak righted itself. “Thanks, Kelly,” I called as the raft took off and Eric moved into the lead again. ”Oh, yes, now I remember that part,” I said to myself. My friends on Quadra Island had made me practice both strokes before they let me leave their pier on the lagoon. I thanked Leslie and David for their foresight and Kelly for reminding me.
Now I was really having fun. Being able to direct the kayak doubled the pleasure. After each of the next few rapids, Kelly would come by and say, “You’re doing great.” I smiled my gratitude. After about three and a half hours and I don’t know how many rapids, we stopped for a picnic lunch prepared by the rafting guide. It was none too soon as my arms were getting tired. Eric explained how to get out of the Kayak. “I think I’ll need some help,” I said. “I don’t think my hips will unbend.” My colleagues obliged.
After lunch, Carrie once again asked, “Anyone want to get into the raft now?” Our retreat leader said she was ready, so they deflated her kayak. “Tell us what’s up ahead and then I’ll decide,” I said. “More of the same except that there’s one really big rapid,” Carrie responded. “I think I’ll try to make it until we get to the big one and then I’ll get into the raft,” I ventured.
Off we went, this time with the kayaks taking the lead and the raft following. It was harder now because there was a wind against us. I could feel how tired my arms were but I kept paddling. After twenty or thirty minutes, I looked up ahead. A gap was widening between me and the other kayakers. The raft was hanging back with me. I examined the widening gap, felt the power of the wind against me, and measured the tiredness of my muscles. “I’m too tired to be able to fight this wind and catch up with the others,” I thought. “And I’m holding the raft back.”
“Okay, Carrie,” I called. “I think I’m done. I’m ready to come into the raft.” Carrie grinned. “Bring your kayak along beside the raft,” she said. “We’ll pull you in and then deflate the kayak.”
I happily took a seat as Carrie let the air out of my brand new kayak and put it into the back of the raft. It felt good to let Carrie’s strong arms narrow the gap between us and the other kayaks.
Two people were sitting on the front of the raft, each with one leg hung over the edge. They were holding on to a rope fastened to the rim of the raft. As we went through the rapids they were sprayed with water just as I had been in the kayak. After a while, one asked if anyone would like to take her place. I jumped at the chance and found that it was almost as much fun as running the rapids in a kayak.
As we approached a bend in the river, Carrie called out to Eric and asked him to retrieve a water bottle she’d left in some bushes at her friend’s house the day before. As Eric looked for the bottle, Carrie’s friend came out of a house up on the shore and the two of them exchanged pleasantries. Once the water bottle was retrieved, people in the raft began peppering Carrie with questions about life along the river.
Carrie had lived by the Rogue for most of her life. Our two young kayaking guides had grown up on the river. We learned that the rapids we were going through were called class two or three. The toughest ones are class ten and they are on the Columbia River in Colorado. I think Carrie said there are class five to seven on a different stretch of the Rogue River and she has done those but has never done the ones on the Columbia. I’m pretty sure I’ll stick with class two and three rapids.
Someone asked me if kayaking the Rogue was scary. I was not scared because precautions were taken. Our retreat leader told us repeatedly that we would only go on the easy part of the river and that we would have experienced guides. She kept her word. She told us that the advantage of the inflatable kayaks was that they wouldn’t flip over like wooden ones, trapping you underneath. That reassured me. Everyone, including guides, had to wear a regulation life jacket, one that had a neck cushion so that if you passed out your head would be up out of the water. I know how to swim and I'm fairly fit from weekly yoga and Pilates classes.
On the same weekend that I kayaked the Rogue, two Oregon men drowned while rafting the Columbia River. Neither of them wore life jackets. Now that’s scary. What we did was outrageously fun, exciting, and safe. From the time we set up tents beside the Rogue until we hit the road to return to Eugene, I couldn’t stop smiling. I asked Kelly to please do a repeat yoga and kayaking retreat next year.
