By Giselle Leonard
THE TIME I WENT RAFTING, FOR THE LAST TIME EVER!
The raft was literally going in circles. Ok “raft” may be a bit of an overstatement; it was 4 barrels tied together. It had taken our full hour to make and to say I was disappointed with it was like calling a leopard a ‘good pussy cat’ or Covid an ‘irritation’. The two people we had chosen to paddle our raft were sitting back-to-back and paddling on OPPOSITE SIDES (hence the circles). The bright red barrels angered me more and more as I looked at them. Finally, they reach us, positioned just before the rapids, and we’re only 5 minutes behind the other team. But then, they keep going. Not intentionally, but rather as though the rapids are pulling them along.
I stretch out as far as I can, but I can’t reach without falling in. Then suddenly, just as it seems my friends are about to float away (at least our raft can do that) a figure fly’s past me like super man and grabs a rope on the barrel. One of my teammates, accepting her fate and soaking herself in the river, hauls the raft back and our paddlers, soggy from the trip, struggle back up to shore. Now we just have to undo it all. I hear a cheer from the other team, and I know without looking that they aren’t cheering that we made it.
