Tackling Fear Head On

Several years ago, I took my first trip down the Upper Yough in a shredder. I ended the trip in a raft with a stranger after my first rafting partner flipped the shredder in Bird Bath, a really not-awesome place to swim. I emerged under the shredder, knowing nothing of where I should try to swim to have the best chance of not fighting with the River Gods. I was stuck in a bit of a hydraulic where I was, and knew I couldn't stay. So I balled up and hoped for the best - ultimately being spit out in an okay location where someone yelled directions for me to follow to a safer place. I abandoned my shredding partner for another more-experienced stranger's raft. While everyone ended the trip in safe hands, it scared me good and led to a multiple year hiatus from attempting the Upper Yough again.

But as time passes, memories fade a little, as does fear.

And so, I told a friend who has been guiding that river for 20+ years that I'd like to tag along whenever he headed for the Upper Yo again. I could really use the paddling workout, and I also wanted to revisit the section of river that had previously freaked me out in a bad way.

And so on the first day of fall, I tackled the Upper again. This time we were R2ing a puma (translation: just the two of us paddled a small raft). The weather was brisk, the trees were really beginning to show off their autumn colors, and the wind blew small fluffy clouds across the sky all day. In short, it was beautiful.

I donned a wetsuit and splash top to gain a bit more protection from the wind, and we headed to the put in.



My mind was in a surprisingly zen-like state on the ride over. I gazed at the fall colors emerging from the forest around us as we drove, and remember thinking to myself, “Why in the hell do I put myself in positions like this to tackle fear head on? I do far too much of this, I think. Oh well, too late to turn back this time.”


My friend and guide, Haze, told me a little about each rapid as we approached, discussing the line he hoped we'd follow and the kind of paddling I was to expect in order to make the sometimes critical moves to navigate the best way possible. I nodded my understanding each time, and put forth my best effort.

Two particular rapids were trickier than the rest, only because our line was more critical through these in order to avoid what promised to be a wicked swim if we failed. Beyond those two though? I emerged from every rapid grinning from ear to ear, fear forgotten, fun at hand.

As we passed the exact spot I'd swam in years past, I even recognized it! I remarked to Haze about it, surprised at my memory, and he quickly jarred me back to the present because we had a particularly tricky sequence to tackle to finish navigating our way around the river in front of us.

TWO FORWARD.
WAIT FOR IT....BACK PADDLE!
HARD FORWARD, GO! GO! GO!
GOOD.
WAIT FOR IT....BACK PADDLE!
HARD FORWARD AGAIN!
NOW, BOULDER DANCE!
FOWARD-BACK TWO-FORWARD ONE-BACK ONE!
FORWARD TWO-LEAN RIGHT.
Yee-aaahhh, homie! Good job. *high five*

I grinned, high fived him, and looked back upriver. Boulders dotted the river, whitewater rushed around them. Hard to believe a raft would even have fit through the area! It was beautiful though - the leaves on the trees waving green, orange, gold, and russet in the wind, blue skies and white clouds dotting the sky above.

And the day continued as such. Big grins, high fives, and soaking in the beauty of autumn around us on that beautiful stretch of whitewater. I even took a quieter moment on flat water at the end to do a headstand IN THE RAFT.

Thanks, Haze, for a really awesome Monday. My fears are resolved, my body is happily sore the day after, and life is pretty fuckin' good.

Recent Shenanigans Photo Journal

Tent city
WVU tailgating

LET'S GO MOUNTAINEERS

<3

They serve beer at our games now.
I was drinking a local microbrew and Mike had Yeungling's Oktoberfest

Mike bringing Gumby into the stadium

Huzzah Gumby!

Gumby is really just T

Armed forces appreciation

Remi beating up Gumby; typical

Ah, WV roads

So, the muffler fell out of Mike's car that Haze has been borrowing

The Haze is not amused

T and I pre-Gauley

Important things in the dry box

Pregaming for the river while we wait for the shuttle folks to come back

Smiles! And beer!

Proper beer holding etiquette

Gooning

Haze and a happy T

Funder, you wanted river photos on the water, so here they come
All taken during flatwater though!

T and I

Typical

My raft for this day

Our crew...plus some custy rafts

SPIT ON IT!
K-pumping the raft

Lower G vistas

Me and Mike

Basically sums up the day

Gauley Canyon is a beaut

Tiernan....what are you doing....

Canyon vistas

T, seriously...what is this

So very tyipcal Haze

RR bridge

Sinking sun

My paddle's keen and bright
Flashing with silver
Follow the wild goose flight
Dip dip and swing

The Most Beautiful Analogy

As many of you are aware, I am involved in far more pursuits than just the equestrian variety. My state is chock full of many beautiful works of nature that provide ample opportunity to adventure.

Whitewater recreation is one of those adventures. It takes a special kind of crazy to love whitewater sports, and with so many world-class whitewater streams in West Virginia, I've had the pleasure to know a lot of those crazy, wonderful people. In fact, they are some of the most passionate people I think I have ever met.

A friend shared the link to this blog post on Facebook today. I can't say that I ever had the pleasure of meeting the gentleman the author writes about - perhaps in passing when I was at college still as we did have several mutual friends.

The text below entails sadness, but beyond that sadness is one of the most beautiful pieces I've read in a long while. The analogy the author makes at the end really made me sit back and think on a lot of things.

I thought that this piece was so beautiful and thought-provoking that I wanted to share it here.

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May I Have This Dance?
by: John Bryant Baker

     In an instant, there is nothing but darkness.  My eyes are open, but they might as well be shut tight.  The only sensation they provide is the feeling of water moving across and against them, causing me to blink again and again.  With each flutter of my eyelids, I hope to see something. Still only darkness.  It is not silent, but the sound around me is dull, muted.  Everything is muffled, almost like a dream where I can’t quite make out what is going on or being said.  I can feel the current swirling all around me and against me, moving me.  The river feels like hands on my back and shoulders, standing over me, pushing me down from above.  My body presses against the riverbed.  I can feel the worn rocks on the backs of my legs and in the small of my back.  I reach out with my hands, out in front of my face and above my head.  It seems that the tips of my fingers have gained some heightened sense of awareness.  Smooth and worn, but not featureless, my hands move across the underside of a large boulder.  I can feel its variations and intricacies.  The more I move my hands, the more of this rock I feel.  Then suddenly, a flash in my mind, a thought, a memory. 

 

     Sitting around a campfire, my bare feet are propped up on a stone fire ring.  Friends are in camp chairs all around, some with beer in hand, their feet mimicking mine.  My wife sits next to me.  Her long, straight sandy-brown hair hangs down past her shoulders, framing her face.  The flames dance in her deep, dark eyes.  We have sat like this a thousand times over: telling stories, laughing, debating.  But this memory is specific, for one of our topics this night happened to be death.  “How would you go, if you could choose?”  Most responded with answers like “quickly” or “in my sleep.”  A climber friend of mine joked about it happening on impact.  Not necessarily the most peaceful, but definitely quick.  But then I gave my answer, different from all the rest.  I knew the ways I did not want to die.  I had seen an aunt die after dealing with cancer for years, her husband and two daughters having ridden an emotional and exhausting roller coaster that I cannot even begin to fathom.  I had a grandparent who physically and mentally deteriorated from Parkinson’s and dementia. 

 

  The last time I saw her I am fairly sure she had no idea who I was.  Or maybe she did, but she just had no way of showing it.  Saddening while simultaneously frustrating.  I did not want something drawn out. I did not want to get sick.  So when it came to me around the campfire that night, my preferred method of departure was to drown.  I have spent over a decade, more than a third of my life, working on rivers.  I figured that if I died from drowning, that meant that up until the moment I passed, I was doing what I loved, and I liked the idea of that.  I remember even half heartedly joking that if I lived long enough to be a worn, salty, decrepit old man, that I might just take one last trip down the river and find a rock to stuff myself under.  Well, it was a few decades sooner than I would have liked, but here I was. 

 

     As my hands continued to move back and forth, my fingertips had assumed the role of my eyes and searched for an exit.  The realization came to me, surprisingly matter-of-factly, “I’m gonna die under this rock.”  I did not feel scared or sad.  I did not begin to struggle or fight.  It wasn't that I consciously choose to not feel or do those things.  I just . . . didn’t.  And then, like being awakened from an extremely involved and intricate dream, my now highly sensitized hands felt something new, air.  My eyes quickly opened to notice light shining through the water above, and I went after it with everything I had.  Just as abruptly as it had begun, it was over, and I was breathing deeply again.

 

     Last night I learned of the passing of fellow paddler, a river guide I had the opportunity to work with and had come to befriend, admire, and respect.  It would be an understatement to say he was well known throughout the “river community.” A guide and instructor, world-class professional kayaker, and mentor to so many, he was diagnosed with cancer, and within a few weeks, suddenly he’s gone.  I remember every time we would see each other out on the river, Brian would make an effort to paddle his raft of people over to mine, and tell the folks in my boat, “You guys don’t know how lucky you are.  You’re getting to boat with one of the best river guides I know.  I really hope you appreciate him.”  Now, there is no telling how many different crews of paddlers he would say that to while on the river, probably more than anything to help out a fellow guide with a tip at the end of the day.  But never the less, it always made me feel special.  Here was this guy, 10 times the boater I’d ever be, and he would make it a point to compliment me, to build me up.

 

     More often than not, death can be so damn frustrating and seems so pointless, such a waste.  If Brian would have been sitting around the fire that night, I know for sure he would not have chosen “cancer in my 30s.”  I stayed up most of the night, as many others did I am sure.  The recirculating and unanswerable question of “Why?” came back again and again, and with each pass it made, I could feel the tension and frustration build.  My head would spin, mind jumping from one memory to the next, and my chest would tighten and my breathing become slightly strained.  I tossed and turned and sat up for hours, heart heavy and unsettled.  But as the first morning light began to make its way through the clouds and whispers of the night’s rain dropped off the leaves, I began to realize I had been completely missing the point.  Death had become a distraction, and I had allowed it to garner all my attention.  “How would I die if I could choose?” is the wrong question.  The more important, relevant question is “How will I live?” because that I can choose.  I have very little control over how I leave this spinning ball of rock and water, and maybe that is what’s so frustrating about it.  But I have complete control over what I do with the time I’m given here.

 

     I think back on all the experiences I’ve had and the things I’ve learned from my time on the river.  In the beautiful whirling messes of waves and whitewater, there is way more out of my control than in it.  And yet I know there are a few certain things I do have control over, things that I can do.  Distractions are crashing and calling all around, trying to steal my attention, but if I remain focused on where I want to go, and the little things I can do to help myself get there, then I can find myself so immersed in the moment that time almost stands still.  In the midst of chaos, waves building and breaking and exploding off the rocks of the riverbed, I can dance with one of the most powerful things on earth, and, even if only for a fleeting moment, be a part of something beautiful.  

 

     There is plenty out there to distract us, plenty to steal our attention away.  Brian left us too soon, there is no question, but that doesn’t change how much he lived while he was here.  The sting of death is a little less when viewed through the context of life.  I grabbed my river gear this morning no longer questioning how or when I will die.  How we die doesn’t really matter.  My concern is how I am going to dance with life today.

Weekend Shenanigans

(Yes, Saiph, I chose that word because I know Charles despises it. But I lurv it so much.)

Saiph and Charles flitted over to play in Appalachia this past weekend. I'd jam-packed the weekend for them, as one does, and we barely had a moment of down time as a result!

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Friday: They arrived around 3p. Their arrival triggered the beginning of my barn beach party.

Beach? Barn? "What's that?" you say. Well, I live in a barn. In a field. Where sun is full strength nearly all day (atypical in our narrow valleys where mountains tend to block the sun for part of the day). What better place to set up a beach and play all day?

Okay, okay, so I didn't set up a *beach* because the thought of a sandbox lingering around where both of my cats would inevitably take up litterbox residency didn't appeal to me. But we DID have a kiddie pool, some of those koosh water ball things, a slip-n-slide (that never got setup), an EZ up tent for shade, beer pong, ladderball (or as we called it in college: testes toss), crochet, a grill, and lots of coolers with lots of alcohol.

I had a fair turnout of folks and we had a great time.

Chillin'

Games set up in the yard

Saiph's photo

HODOR
Saiph's photo

My super attractive boyfriend
Saiph's photo

Ski patrol friends; T in middle
Saiph's photo

Saiph's photo

Getting our rear ends whooped
Saiph's photo

Men. Doing Man Things.
Saiph's photo

Side eye.
Saiph's photo

Saiph's photo

Hannah forcing Hodor to accept love. Hodor saying HODOR.
Saiph's photo

Boyfriend and I
Saiph's photo

A sneaky photo of Saiph and I that Charles took
Saiph's photo

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Saturday: Mike headed off early for his 24 hour shift; this left Saiph and Charles and I to our own devices until the following day. I tossed some breakfast together before the three of  us headed out to the barn for the day to get in 10 miles or so; Charles really wanted to see my WV trails.

Now, I'm sure Saiph will have much more to detail on the specifics of our ride than I, as riding these trails is my norm and I just tend to chalk it up as "just another day, just another ride". Though, we did head out onto some new-to-me trails though. Saiph aboard Griffin, Charles aboard Little Bit, and me on Q.

The short of it: We climbed some steep shit. We went fast and slow. We saw a pretty view. And I'm one step closer to figuring out just how to get down to the river (must. map. gps track.). Saiph and Griffin led nearly all day (he was a doll for her). But Q and I did lead some.

The analyzing part of it: With Q's advanced spooking of late, I haven't been doing as much leading with her. When I do (since the OD), I'm praising the shit out of her. I'm trying to micromanage her less, too. I praise and talk to her as much as I can, and in the process, I try to just leave her to her own devices and let her work through things. I put my mind in a calm, yet focused state as I gaze down the trail. I do my very best (work in progress) of ignoring all of Q's "looksies" at things. I note them enough to be able to praise her for only looking and not acting out any more. I talk to her and tell her about the sticks and rocks and leaves.

Apparently, we're making some progress with the whole Liz Doesn't Micro-Manage the Mare and the Mare Gets Praise for ALL Things because Q's spooking was almost back to normal (whereby normal is providing the stink eye to offending objects and dancing *slightly* to the side, not slamming on brakes, ducking, and spinning).

Q did have a couple of Slam the Brakes spooks, but two were from a walk (in response to *gasp* Dead Leaves on a Branch), and her reaction was slightly slower than typical. She seems to be reacting in a knee-jerk reaction kind of way when she spooks; her body making the maneuver before her mind has a moment to go, "Wait a minute, leaves aren't scary". There was the slightest hesitation as she stopped and attempted to turn (blocked by me). I directed her to look/face the offending Dead Leaves on a Branch and she wasn't overly concerned at all. Praise. Move on.

Another unique behavior for her on this ride was her attitude. I'm not certain if she is coming into heat or what part of her cycle is influencing this, but she was WITCHY! She's not usually so witchy undersaddle. She exhibited pissier than typical attitude throughout the ride, but it was most accentuated once we'd turned for home, down, down, down the mountain.

She was pissy about Little Bit riding up her butt as we came down the mountain, which is completely understandable and even acceptable in some ways. I told Charles to watch it unless he wanted to be kicked, and he backed the little gelding (Q's boyfriend in the field) right off and remained 1-3 horse lengths away for the remainder of the ride (about 3 miles). However, despite LB being off Q's rear, she began snaking her head, ears pinned, teeth bared, to nip at Griffin (in the lead). She mostly just lipped at his tail and flank, though that snakey mare head made her seem like she would do more. (Though, in writing this I realize that she wouldn't do more than that. Since day one in the field with the other horses her behavior is FAR more bark than bite. She has dramatic witchy snake-mare faces and related gesticulating that she exhibits toward the other horses, but she never has struck out or tried to bite whenever I have been observing. Her body language alone has always kept others at a distance without any physical contact.)

View down toward the river.

Saiph noted that despite Q's antics, Griffin was completely oblivious. I was checking Q to keep her from being able to really "get" him, too.

Finally, as we were near the end of the descent, Q, unabashed by my feeble attempts to reprimand her (I was too busy giggling like mad at her behavior because it was so different for her (this is how she used to behave WAY back those first several months when I had her)), snaked her head forward with a little bit more commitment than she had been. I slapped her on the neck with my hand with an accompanying, "HEY," my typical You Better Watch Your Behavior and Pay Me Mind, Horse! response.

Now, typically when I do this kind of thing, Q will get all aflutter because *heaven forbid* I reprimand her. (A reason why I suspect MY behavior is playing a large part in HER behaviors undersaddle on trail lately.) In this instance though, Q more or less flipped me the bird! She pinned her ears and gave me side-eye in response to the reprimand. I shouldn't have, but I laughed a LOT more. Because c'mon, here is my little mare whose usual response is "OMG THE SKY IS FALLING" when I reprimand her typically and now she's giving me the middle finger. It was just too much. I had to laugh. I MUCH prefer this attitude to her crumbling around me. This kind of attitude is a cousin to Confidence and Confidence is what this little horse needs so much more of!

Going down a steep ass hill
Photo does no justice

Perhaps, in hindsight, Q's behavior through this stretch was due - in part - to my being so relaxed and amicable about everything going on (in addition to my efforts to be calmer with her throughout the ride). I wasn't micromanaging her. I was only correcting her when she'd snake forward, but it was just a, "Hello. No." and then I'd quit.

Once in a slightly more open area, Saiph wondered aloud if Q's behavior toward Griffin could merely be a, "Get out of my way! I want to lead!" Kind of thing. No sooner had she mentioned this when Q took a slight opening to blast past Griffin! Zoom! We cantered by him, her ears going from pinned to SUPER eager as she took the lead. (She has eager forward ears and she has suspicious forward ears and these were the eager pair.) She continued to canter with her eager ears for a good ways before I requested she slow a bit so we didn't kill the already taxed Little Bit who isn't accustomed to so much cantering. We slowed for a short time, but then picked back up the canter again.

She had one more Slam on the Brakes spook on our final homestretch through the woods while we were in the lead. This time though? She just slammed on the brakes (from the trot) and Looked at the offending object. She thought about it for a second more, then moved - with slight hesitation - forward toward home. PRAISE.

Saiph on Griffin, Chalres on LB
Coming down the steep ass hill
Photo STILL does no justice

I have an inkling of a feeling that her attitude about things as we headed home, and then her better response during her final spook is due in part to her having a larger goal/focus: Home. Until very recently, Q has not shown as much interest in going home with speed. Mike and I have taken several faster rides recently though, and if we're going at a trot and canter nearly the entire time we're going Away from the barn, why would we slow them to walk when we head Home just to make a point of  "no running home"? As long as our pace is the same heading Away as it is heading Home, I have no great issue with letting my horse travel fast in the Home direction. Our fast rides recently have consisted of me on Griffin leading the Away charge and Mike on Q leading the Home charge. Griffin has a better lead head for the beginning than Q does; by the time we head home, Q is usually more relaxed about life and we let her lead. This also is making Griffin not RUSH home  as he has a much greater tendency to do than my little girl (who has always cared less about the direction we're going, showing no great favor for heading anywhere once we're Off Home Property). Quite the hypothesis, but its something. Those recent rides, coupled with a big change in herd dynamics (something I will post more on in my next post) may be some catalysts for change in Q under saddle.

Beyond that last spook, Q was good for the remainder of the ride. I dismounted and jogged with her down the final steep hill, and from there we were on the homestretch. Out of the woods, into the back field all three of us let the horses pick up a slow canter (or whatever LB's gait is for that speed), to the creek.

Griffin, miffed he wasn't allowed to roll here

Little Bit and Griffin drank heartily at the creek while Q just gazed around as if to say, "C'mon you wusses. That was nothing! 10 miles does NOT merit drinking like this." Griffin tried for the third try of the day, to paw and roll in the water (he'd previously made the attempt with two puddles). Saiph laughed and told him no, pulling his head up away from the water. Griffin tried a few more times before we left the creek, denied each time.

We stopped in a patch of long green grass after the creek to chat with my BO about the ride. As we were chatting, Griffin, with very minimal warning, just lay down with Saiph. My BO laughed, noting that her gelding who is a year younger than Griffin and every bit as much of a character used to pull that kind of shenanigan with her all the time. We all laughed and laughed at him. He just lay there quietly lipping at the grass around him, completely unconcerned. It was his final, "Screw You" to Saiph for not letting him roll in all the water. (And may have also been in part to it being his third ride in as many days - the hardest series of workout he's had in his little life.)

With patience, and after much laughter, Griffin stood back up with Saiph aboard and plodded stately to the barn as if nothing had gone amiss. Such a dork, that horse.

Griffin being a pill.
Finally getting up.

Overall, a really fun ride. Great to see some new trails with friends. Great to start making some connections in the right direction with the little girl, too.

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We'd rushed through the end of our ride with hopes of making it to the Venezuelan restaurant in town that we all love before their break between lunch and dinner. We pulled up to the restaurant to find that they wouldn't be open until 4:30 as their lunch hours on Saturdays were no longer existent.

We ran a few errands, grabbed showers, and headed BACK to the restaurant (with Kenai! Yay outdoor seating). With full bellies, we headed east to Dolly Sods - a request Saiph and Charles had for this visit.

We cruised up there amidst mist and rain, arriving right as the rain had ended.

We all wandered around the Bear Rocks overlook, Kenai THRILLED to be out and about for the first time since tearing his groin in March.

We even hiked a ways down a trail so I could show them how diverse the habitat types are up there.

A beautiful evening!

My wild husky running far away from me. (not)

Yesss my precious.

Post hike beers. Locally brewed!

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Back at home, hours later, Saiph made an INCREDIBLE chicken dish and some tostones. SO FREAKING AMAZING. I love her cooking. Nomz.

We didn't last too long after our full bellies though. And that was okay, we needed rest prior to whitewater rafting the following day!

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Sunday: We rafted the Cheat River Canyon. It was my first time rafting the Cheat (I've done the lower Youghigheny, upper and middle Gauley, middle and lower New, a river in Denali Nat'l Park, and a river in Costa Rica. I've additionally hardboated (kayaked) on the Potomac, 'Doah, and Yough. (I dated a hardboater for many years, so my exposure to whitewater - especially in this State - is heavy.)

We met Mike along the commute, picking him up from the end of his 24 hour shift. He would be guiding one of the rafts. My coworker T also met us at the river, too.

Saiph hadn't rafted before, so this was quite the experience for her. She was apprehensive at the beginning because of the guides scare-tactics. I tried my best to assure her it was fine and to ignore them (my time with river rats has dulled my responses to their antics), but I don't think it did much to help. I used to harbor a lot of apprehension when I was a hardboater, so I could understand where her fears were to an extent. Though I have a feeling she was blissfully ignorant to some of the things I was fearful of only because she'd not had the experiences I did with whitewater (e.g., knowledge of hydrology and flows, the types of consequences that result in drowning, or dealing with deaths of friends from whtiewater rec.). All the same, she balled up and did the damn thing.

River time being what it is, we started 2 hours late and were on the river 2 hours longer than we'd anticipated. I really felt for Saiph and Charles who'd hoped to be on the road home a lot sooner, but at the same time, I was nonplussed at the order of events. I'd been broken in to the concept of river time years back. I used to spazz and gripe and moan about it, but years of complaining and worrying got me nowhere; I was surprised how much that past conditioning came into play with my calm attitude on Sunday!

The Canyon was fun. It was nice to be on the water again. It was great to play with Mike in a realm he worked in for years (he's guided for 5 years in WV). The body soreness I achieved from a day of hard paddling was almost pleasant the following day, different as it was from riding muscles.

I wish I had pictures to share, but Mike's reputably waterproof Otterbox Armor case took on water. -_- So there is no working phone and no photos to share. If we are able to get it working, I'll post them at a later date.

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It was great to visit and play with Saiph and Charles yet again. I look forward to their next visit in a month! Mini staycations are the best when you get to share them with friends.

Don't forget to enter the Dublin Dog Giveaway!! It ends Friday!!!