Free to Swim or Sink in the USA
The water on the Ocoee River in eastern Tennessee was higher than usual.
Luckily, higher water on this river meant my chance of meeting a rock while upside down was lessened. I sat in my borrowed whitewater kayak and, just below me, there was a fall aptly named “Table Saw.” To seasoned paddlers who were used to the Class III feature, this was just an exercise for larger rivers. But for me, this was the biggest water I’d taken-on in a small kayak.
I clung to a twig on the inside edge of a smooth eddy and wished my friend luck as he pushed away. I would bring up the rear. He disappeared over the edge in a torrent of water and, suddenly, my arms tingled and throat clenched.
I was next. I sat alone and quietly cursed. What had I gotten myself into?
We drove into the area the night before while the dam-fed river was slowed to a trickle, exposing the rocky feature underneath: sharp, angled edges pointed downriver to form a chute resembling a cheese grater. If an injury happened here, it notoriously left noticeable marks on the face and head. While I may have looked like an experienced whitewater paddler outfitted with good gear and full-face helmet, I was as novice on this river as a paddler could be. And I was definitely feeling pressure from a challenge I’d never known.
After some time and rafters passed, I finally received the “go” signal from my safety kayaker at the bottom of the run. I took a deep breath and swallowed my doubt, turned the kayak’s nose into the current, sternly planted my head forward, and let the water carry me into an adventure.
***
Water shapes me. Through courage and fear, humility and strength, turmoil and peace, it shows me how to tread past the unexpected. I seek water when needing perspective. It’s where I go to get away. It’s where I play when I need to be challenged, humbled, or bolstered with new confidence. Plus, it runs through my veins, literally and symbolically: feeling currents pulse, smelling rivers and oceans close by, tasting flavors imbued from natural surroundings… water has a pull all its own.
More than once, the Buffalo River in Arkansas with its high limestone bluffs, turquoise clear water, and quiet corners offered reflective solace and stoic guidance when difficult emotions surged. A deep, dark cenote in Mexico blasted the grief of my father’s death out of my body in a way only frigid water can; I threw myself in as many times as I could muster. The Indian Ocean tore me off my feet in South Africa, demanding respect for its power and character.
Water strips me down to my most basic and simplistic pieces when needing to be freed of life’s heaviness. In these moments, it reminds me that, although I’m only a small part of a big world, I’m still uniquely me: free to choose my experiences, my growth, and my path. As paddlers frequently utter together, everyone swims: kayaking is just the time spent in between those swims.
***
My choice of path down Table Saw needed adjustment, to put it lightly. Time slowed as my kayak launched over the first large wave, flipping me in midair. Upside down, my roll failed three times while water thundered with churning whites, greens, and browns. I was disoriented in the falls, lungs burning, and I knew I had to swim. With one hand tight on my paddle, the other gripped the spray skirt pull and I yanked hard. Cold water instantly grabbed my lower half and I was free to tumble, to spin.
Bobbing up, I was at the bottom of the run unhurt and less scared. My safety man was there, urging me to swim aside as he caught my kayak. A raft-full of tourists cheered and I smiled and waved unabashed. The descent wasn’t pretty, but I did it. Everything that day – fear, joy, gumption, and exhaustion – bolstered the desire to get back in that kayak. Water and I played rough and, so long as I kept paddling, I was free to swim or sink.
About the Author:
Cristen Jester is a writer, biologist, life coach, and new mom. She resides in Nixa, Missouri, and thrives off of time with her family, the outdoors, and traveling near and far.
Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Independence Travel Writing competition and tell your story.
