White water, white knuckles

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

DENALI PARK, ALASKA — Another perfect summer’s day greeted us this morning! The activity of the day was a white-water rafting trip down the Nenana River, a glacier-fed torrent that runs between the town area and the mountains of Denali National Park. This river flows into the Yukon River and then to the Bering Sea.
We had two choices, wild or mild. The former required you to help paddle the raft wearing helmets and hanging on with your feet tucked under inflated sausage-like bars across the inside of the dinghy, while seated on the outer rim. The milder ride was conducted by an oar-wielding guide while you sat on the inner sausage and held on to guy lines with both hands. As this would be my first experience, and I’d had a good look at the boiling waves through which we would travel, I opted for the so-called "mild" ride. I think Val might have gone for the wilder one, but he kindly agreed to my choice, being the true sweetheart that he is.
Suiting up was an adventure in itself. We had been advised to wear warm clothes and two pairs of socks. It was also suggested that we leave our glasses behind. We were each issued a dry suit, life preserver and a pair of soft-soled boots. The dry suit came complete with feet, like babies’ sleepers, only these were made of rubber. The wrists and necks had rubber cuffs to seal out the water, and the boots went over the rubber feet. When we were zipped in and clipped on our life preservers, we felt like five-year-olds trussed up in snowsuits, and we looked like the Michelin man!
We waddled over to the bus that would take us to the start point of the river run. It was a short distance further up the road, and when we disembarked and descended to the shore, the rafts were already there. Russell, our guide, gave us instructions about what to do if we were tossed overboard. These details, plus the hair-raising waiver form we had to sign (discussing dismemberment, drowning, cracked skulls, hypothermia and other niceties), really helped me prepare mentally for this little adventure. At least we’d be able to hang on with both hands; the paddlers only had their toes, plus they ran the risk of getting crowned by their fellow passengers’ paddles — hence the helmets they were issued.
By the time we set off, we were very warm from standing in the sun in what was essentially a plastic bag from the neck down. So the cool, rushing water was actually a welcome change. The water was full of glacial silt, and looked almost like a river of chocolate milk. Russell paddled us toward some rough-looking sections, and suddenly, whoosh! We were into the rapids with the nose of the raft plunging down and up again and great splashes of water raining down on us! It was cold, but exhilarating and refreshing at the same time!
Val was on the outside on the left side of the raft, with me next to him. The two young daughters of another fellow were next to me, and their dad was on the right side. Russell handled the oars behind the five of us. It seemed as though every big wave we hit came from the left and completely drenched Val! He didn’t seem to mind a bit! I caught some water too, and wondered why I had bothered washing my hair this morning.
On we swirled through rapids with names like Roly Poly, Train Wreck, Royal Flush, Coffee Grinder and Ice Worm, as the river rushed along between steep walls of rock, wide in some spots and narrower in others. One rock, jutting out next to a particularly turbulent section, was called The Knife, and Russell told us that more than one raft had "popped" on the Knife. We, thank goodness, did not join their ranks. Every time we came to another set of rapids, I was amazed to see these huge, boiling waves coming at us, exploding over us with an icy splash, and we actually got through them without capsizing!
There were smoother sections in the ride that allowed us to catch our breath and take in some of the beautiful scenery, and even get acquainted with our fellow passengers. The dad was a lineman for the power company, and the two girls live with their mother in the neighbouring town, Healy. They both go to school there and play hockey in their free time. They were enjoying the ride, and toward the end where the water was calmer, they and their dad hopped over the side and paddled in the water, holding on to the raft by the ropes. We had fun hauling the three of them back on board!
The ride covered a distance of about 12 miles, and then we pulled ashore and stripped off the top portion of our dry suits, tying the arms around our waists. I had the distinct feeling that my "dry" suit had sprung a leak at the spot where I sat down. Then I REALLY felt like a five-year-old. We climbed aboard the bus, loaded the rafts on a trailer at the back, and returned to the office where our glasses and shoes awaited us. Once freed of our regalia, the warm sun and breeze dried out the damp spots quickly enough.
Photographers had positioned themselves on the shore at strategically rough sections to snap our pictures, and the prints were already on display at the office. So we have a nice souvenir of our white water experience to prove we actually braved those churning waves.
Who knows? Maybe when we’re back in Ottawa, we can try the rapids on the Ottawa River now that we have some experience.