Trusting the Waters -- Struggle Story

The sun violently kissed my skin leaving me bound in its warm embrace as I trudged along the black pavement wondering how close I was to salvation. My right hand, gripped so tightly onto the rope looped around one end of my kayak that my knuckles appeared white, felt a steady tremor that surged to the top of my shoulder.

“How’re you doing back there?” my guide, Danny, who was pulling me along as he held the front end of my kayak, called.

“I’m good,” I said, hoping he missed the uneasiness in my voice.

It was late July, and my best friend, Halle, planned a kayaking trip down the Mississippi River to celebrate our last few weeks together before heading off to college. Halle was adventurous. Having been her friend for nearly thirteen years, I knew that this trip was one of her many attempts to get me to fall in love with the unpredictability of nature. She was a tree climber, a runner, and she preferred to sleep in hammocks. I, on the other hand, had always shied away from situations in which I knew falling, sweating, or passing out would be a possibility. But Halle insisted on spending the day appreciating the boundless river, so I agreed.

“Now remember girls, wear your lifejackets at all times, stay in the kayaks, and we’ll help you unload once you get back to the shack. You’ll be going with the current, so paddling shouldn’t be too challenging, and stay on the right side of the river to avoid any barges,” Marcus, our other guide who was helping Halle carry her kayak to the dock, said.

A bead of sweat dripped down my back as I set my end of the kayak down on the dock while Halle settled into her seat and grabbed her paddle from Marcus.

“Off you go,” he said.

As Halle began floating away, Danny and I set my kayak onto the river, and I fastened my life jacket.

“Why do we need to wear these if we stay in our seats the whole time?” I asked him.

“The Mississippi has been known to have undercurrents which pose a serious risk to swimmers. Should your kayak tip, it’s vital to your safety that you stay in your life vest.”

My heart started beating fast as images of my capsizing kayak came to mind.

“Time to load up,” Danny said.

Breathing deeply, I stepped into my kayak as the guides held it steady. Squinting into the sun, I could see Halle holding onto a tree branch that jutted out into the river to keep herself from floating farther away. Danny handed me my paddle and waved goodbye.

Gripping tightly, I dipped the paddle into the water on my left side and pushed the river behind me. Switching to the right, I propelled myself down the beastly river. It was invigorating.

“Halle,” I yelled to her. “This is great.”

Halle turned around and shouted something back, but she was too far away for me to understand.

That’s okay, I’ll catch up to her soon.

I kept paddling. Left side, right side, left side, right side. My arms began to ache. The excitement was wearing off, and I remembered why I rarely enjoyed Halle’s plans. The sun greeted me just as I was about to forget its heat. I swatted a fly away from my ear and regretted my forgetting to bring a water bottle along.

Jolting me out of my thoughts, a cricket jumped in the kayak causing me to drop my paddle into the water. Panic set in immediately.

“Halle, help I dropped my paddle,” I screamed, frantically trying to reach into the river to grab it without tipping myself into monstrous beast upon which I floated.

Sensing the fear in my voice, Halle looked back and began trying to turn her kayak around to paddle towards me.

“I’m coming, just hang on. I can try and grab it,” she called.

Halle was significantly faster at maneuvering her kayak and reached my side quickly.

“I can’t grab it without tipping,” she said out of breath. “I’ll just jump in.”

“But what about the undercurrents? Danny said they’re common on the Mississippi.”
“It’s fine, I’m a strong swimmer, and I’m wearing my lifejacket. It’ll just take a second.”

Halle squatted to steady herself as the kayak fiercely rocked. She jumped out, and immediately floated to the top of the river as I held onto the rope at the head of her kayak and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I got the paddle,” Halle said, victoriously holding it above her head.

I grabbed it from her hands and pulled her kayak close to mine. Bracing her hands on the opposite side, Halle hoisted herself up and over as I pressed down to keep it level.

“Now there’s some teamwork, baby,” Halle said with a high five. “Let’s go.”

Halle gathered her paddle and began floating with the current as I tightened my life jacket and prepared to follow suit. Left side, right side. Left side, right side. My familiar arm cramp hugged my muscles as I moved down the river.

Turning around to face me, Halle yelled something as a smile stretched across her face. I had troubling hearing, but I knew I felt the same way.