Adventures: Rafting in new hampshire
Written by Greg Pastore
Rafting? How the hell can I? I have trouble sitting in a chair on level ground without a risk of injury. Being on an inflatable raft floating in white-water would be suicide.
Several of my friends scheduled a white-water rafting tour at the Saco River in New Hampshire. I was recklessly invited; none of them considered my disability. Rafting should only be attempted by able-bodied participants with fast reaction time. I’d ruminate on this truth with visuals of drowning in rapids, which dismantled my peace-of-mind.
My loyal friends surely wouldn’t jeopardize my life for recreation, right? My doubting wasn’t solved by their laughter on the way there. How can they be so casual in this do-or-die scenario? I was quietly panicking.
I was relieved to meet our rafting guide. It was nice to have some sanity on the boat. Surely he couldn’t allow casualties, and surely, he has done this before with disabled customers.
We sat around the edge of the raft seriously close to the unpredictable water. I gripped a rope lining our seats—I wasn’t expected to control an ore. Meanwhile, my friends and the guide manned their seats with confidence and ores in hand. There was no way I’d let go since survival was my only job. We pushed off boldly upstream of the unrelenting rapids. It was madness as we approached the first churning rapidly. We cleared it with ease as I remained firmly on the raft—this wasn’t so bad.
The raft twisted and turned as we entered a gauntlet of violent water. The raft bumped and shifted uneasily as the torment tried to swallow us. My position on the boat was humbled when a large wave roiled above our heads. We were at the base of two enormous waves which threatened to flip us into the water.
Not being thrown in the water recruited every muscle fiber in my hands that clenched the rope. It must have been extremely difficult to resist the punishing waves crashing onto us. Imagine a five-gallon pale smashing into us from every direction. Remaining on the raft was a pleasant surprise.
Was I really this strong or was it adrenaline that kept my hands from slipping? Seeing that the rope was drenched with water, it must have been a high dose. The raft charged the final rapid, which almost bumped me off into the storming water. The white water disappeared into a column of slow, deep-blue river.
We survived! I managed to stay on the boat and was relieved to slowly float without being pushed around.
Having this experience bolstered my confidence and trust in my ability. Having knowledge of my body’s ability to push its limits has proven invaluable in recovery.
