My first time kayaking Lower Mishawaka to Bridges on the Poudre River resulted in another lesson taught by a benevolent and patient river. The water was flowing at 3.5 feet, not huge, not meager. I borrowed a Dagger Nomad, a Cadillac of kayaks made especially for creeks, to charge through the unfamiliar aspects of this classic Colorado river. Unlike rivers paddled during my humble beginnings as an East Coast boater, these Colorado rivers have features I just do not know how to wiggle my way through. Gradient, squirrely eddies, and my greatest nemesis... rocks, especially rocks that one must cozy up to in order to squeeze into the best line. Every river has its own unique personality. Lucky for me, the Poudre is kind.
I'm just getting to know old lady Poudre. At the put-in, the ice melt felt to me, for the first time, not like a horrible, freezing torture, but refreshing and clean. My few other dips into Colorado water were comparable to chewing ice cubes after having a root canal. This time on the Poudre, I was so exhilarated by the water, I dared to paddle without my 5 mil. wet suit (Mistake #1. Colorado boaters will benefit from a full dry suit.)
Much of the run was engaging, with some luscious, friendly wave trains and just enough of those funny cross currents to keep me paying attention and using my brace. Lots of happy-slappy splashing made me smile, but it also made me shiver. By the time I made it into the eddie above Pine View Falls, I was tired, frozen, and ready for a rest. Afraid of being left behind, instead of taking my time to breath, I followed Mike out of the eddy and down his line... Almost. (Mistake #2.) Through the fast paced entry of the rapid, I was feeling quite proud of myself, getting through the mishmash of waves and setting up toward the big river left rock that creates a "Disney slide" of water. Theoretically, this slide could spit me out through the churning pocket of water bellow.
I hate rocks. I have a habit of staying away from them. I came close to the big rock, but not close enough to ride the slide. Instead, trying to punch through the messy water just beside the slide, I was slapped over, falling to my left and eventually riding the slide upside down as my helmet grated along that darn big rock. So much for "Disney slides." I was actually trying to roll up at exactly the moment the back of my head made contact with the slide. I landed in the squirrely water below and tried two more times to roll up. Mmmm... the roll never happened. (Mistake #3. I want my own creek boat, which I will predictably and consistently return to an upright position.)
When I popped up to the surface of the water, I found myself bobbing through waves that suddenly seemed much bigger than they did from inside my Cadillac. Friends like guardian angels in dazzling, fruit flavored boats shouted directions: "Swim to the center!" Luckily I missed whatever ugliness was waiting for me on river left. Then, "Kick, back to the left!" My legs were like lead in the cold. Patrick, whose boat was closest, offered me his bow and helped me to the left as I groaned with every kick. A sound like labor pains or a dying moose came from my mouth in between the sips of air I tried to take during the brief moments at the peak of roller coaster waves. "Swim for it, do it now!" he said. I saw another ugly blur of water just below me, was it a pour over? I didn't want to find out, so I did my best impression of an Olympic swimmer for three flailing strokes and made it to the grass.
Dizzy as a drunk, I wobbled up the steep incline and sat, limbs splayed out and useless. No experiment with drugs ever left me as numb and dizzy as this icy soak had. As my friends went down the river to search out my gear, I savored my life. That grandma Poudre sure let me off easy.
So the lesson in all of this ice water? Patience. Grandma Poudre was patient while schooling me, even when I was not patient with myself. I need more training, more gentle cozy-ing up to her pillows of water and precarious rocks. I want to read her river face, know her details, and learn her quirks... and that takes patience. I will be back in my boat tomorrow.
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