I ran the Nantahala falls for the first time almost three years ago.
I remember the tight knot in my stomach that had settled in long before we got to the concrete beach; I remember the burning intensity and focus with which I followed - stroke for stroke - the path of the boat in front of me; I remember the chaotic white frosty madness of the water that ensued as soon as I dropped down clipping the edge of the top hole; I remember exhaling at the bottom when I unequivocally knew that I had made it, and the elation that in an instant filled up my entire being. It was a great moment, a moment of a personal triumph, a perfect moment, if you wish, and I would have been happy if there was only it.
But there was something else...
The very moment I cleared the bottom hole and navigated a few remaining yards to the safety of the eddy, there was a deafening explosion of cheering and rooting coming from the boaters that had set safety for me. Their collective paddling experience was over a hundred years; all but two had met me for the first time less than four hours prior, and yet their joy for me was palpable, the sincerity of their exaltation undeniable. It was a voice over of how I felt in that instant. My personal triumph got amplified, was shared and celebrated by all. It felt great, and yet it did not make sense to me at the time: surely, for all but me the Nantahala falls were just another rapid they had run hundreds of times before... I pondered this for a while at the time, and then entirely forgot about this incident, and did not think about it until last Saturday...
***
If there were a yearly award for running Double Reactionary on Pigeon, this year it would have gone to Elisabeth. I have not seen a better, smoother, cleaner line on the rapid that had given her the most anxiety. The most beautiful thing in it all, that, as a result of miscommunication and not having realized where she was at, Elisabeth led Leslie and I down the rapid: she simply read and ran it, and that was that.
For a while after that we sat in the eddy below the rapid, laughing, shouting, clapping, cheering, and reliving Elisabeth 's every single stroke through the rapid, savoring the moment and not wishing for it go away.
The joy we feel for others having witnessed their triumphs, no matter how small and baby-stepish these triumphs may appear to the people themselves... I now understand what I was exposed to for the first time three years ago and what did not make sense to at the time.
We all are madly in love with the river. We are infinitely grateful for the gifts she bestows upon us. We find our way back to the river in spite of everything: we come back to learn, to be challenged, and then, ultimately, to be transformed by the river into the better versions of ourselves. The taste of anxiety, doubt, frustration and fear are familiar to all of us. By the same token, we all remember how it felt to not punch out of the boat for the first time, to roll successfully for the first time, to run a visually intimidating rapid. In that regard there is truly no separation between us all. And this is why we celebrate each other successes as our own - we know what it takes to get "there".
So, no, Elisabeth - Leslie and I would not have wanted to be on Ocoee or else where that day: we came to paddle Pigeon so to be there with you and for you, to share that day and your triumph with you.
Here is to you, Elisabeth!
SYOTR
August 15 at 11:56pm.
|
