Good morning! I hope the world is being good to you and you’re being good to it.

Grab your coffee or beverage of choice and share a thought with me!

When on a trip or vacation, I usually keep things lowkey. Sure, I’ll go do stuff, but that typically involves going to a sporting event, or sightseeing, or checking out a museum. My days of high adventure are in the past; I got my fill in Boy Scouts. On a recent trip, however, I had an oh crap moment when I realized I agreed to go whitewater rafting.

I’ve been canoeing in the Boundary Waters and kayaking on tame lakes, but I’ve never had the opportunity or taken the initiative to go rafting. It conjures mental images of The River Wild, which didn’t go real well for those rafters, so I’ve always imagined rafting was a chaotic fight for your life where the water clawed at every opportunity to pull you out of the raft and downriver to whatever fate awaited. As someone who’s generally risk averse, hopefully you can see why I paused.

Once the logically thinking part of my brain kicked in, however, I recognized the outfitter provides thousands of safe trips down familiar, yet challenging, stretches of river. The guides are experienced, and there are undoubtedly far less knowledgeable and capable people who have done the excursion without issue. Additionally, if there was a history of problems, the company would not be in business.

Spoiler for the outcome, I dislocated my shoulder because we ran headlong into a rock which forced my body and lower paddle arm in opposite directions. This aggravated an old injury, which if I didn’t have, I probably would’ve been fine. After 20-30 seconds, it popped back in, and I was good to continue. Aside from that momentary panic, it was an awesome experience.

Being on the water is always enjoyable. On our particular river, there were interludes of calm water that allowed us to enjoy the greenery and natural landscapes. You don’t go whitewater rafting, however, to avoid the whitewater. I learned rapids are rated on a six-tier scale, with one being the tamest and six being unnavigable. The rapids we encountered were a four, so they gave a pretty good ride.

Imagine a rollercoaster without restraints. You’re not going down 200-foot drops, but the dips and turns are violent enough to let inertia do its thing. All you’ve got is the hope that your feet are wedged in securely enough to keep you in the raft or that the people sitting beside or behind you think quickly enough to yank you back. Given everything going on and where your focus needs to be, however, I wouldn’t plan on anyone noticing you’re in distress until your seat is vacant.

The risk of going swimming, at least on our river, was minimal and worth it. I literally had my breath taken away when we spilled over the first drop and the water rose up to smack me in the face. It was exhilarating and something I will always remember. The outfitter had a photographer waiting at the main sections to catch reactions, and this led to some amazing photos with the most natural smiles you will ever see.

The discomfort of a dislocated shoulder is memorable, but it will fade. I can’t say the same for the experience of sitting at the front of a raft while the water disappears below before the raft tips and crashes down into the swirling blue; that memory will never fade. If you have the opportunity to do some rafting (with a guide), take it from someone who faces everything with a degree of hesitancy: do it.