One my favorite family trips was our white water rafting the Rio Grande. Shooting class IV and class V rapids with my then 12-year-old son was terrifying and amazing! On the Rio Grande I was able to glimpse the fearlessness of my youngest child.
White water rafting was one of many dreams, fantasies created by reading books. Someone should censor my reading material. Just kidding, not really. Books have been the crux of my adventure choices. At some point I read white water rafting was a fun, adrenaline filled adventure. If a book says its fun, gotta try it.
So, when my partner suggested white water rafting in New Mexico, I was googling places to stay before he completed the sentence. To say I was all in was an understatement. When the planning was complete, we packed the Expedition and mini U-Haul trailer with bikes, suitcases and four of our six children. The children were adults except for my 11year-old baby boy.
The plan was for us each to drive a portion of the route so we could get there quicker. This drive helped me to lose my driving privileges. David finished his time behind the wheel sometime in the middle of the night which meant it was my turn to knock down some highway miles. His words to me before went to sleep was to keep straight. Keep straight. There was no way I could mess this up...Somewhere on this dark highway there was a curve in the road. The curve to me did not equal go straight. Apparently, I was supposed to follow the curve. When David woke up, I'd driven three hours in the wrong direction. My heart sank. I wanted to cry but my ego would not allow that. Luckily, he was so gracious and understanding...at least on the outside. His overhead bubble was probably filled with unseen expletives. After that little adventure, I am the designated directionally challenged co-pilot. That's ok with me, I don't like to drive anyway.
We arrive just before dusk to our rental house in Tijeras, New Mexico in the Sandia Mountains. The house was an old schoolhouse with additions on several acres. Although the house was cute, quaint surrounded by gorgeous mountains, I was most struck by the variation in temperature. In the morning when we woke up, the heat would be on warming the house, the trees and grass were crispy. We would hop in the car for the ten-minute drive down the mountain to fifty-sixty-degree temperatures. Like a toddler playing got your nose each day I was amazed at this difference every day.
I was thrilled to be in the mountains. My research told me that there were bears, cougars, and snakes in these beautiful mountains. I have always wanted to see wild animals in their environment. I rarely get see them that way. In the Sandia mountains my eyes were on constant patrol, hoping against hope for some sort of sighting. Safe to say my record remained intact. No wildlife encounters. Crud and yay!
We spent each day traveling to a new site. The kids were able to an activity specific to them. My Caleb proving again he is his father's child wanted to go to Roswell, the land of everything alien. We endured and he was happy. I chose horseback riding in the mountains. I am sure I was on some illegal substance when I made this choice. While it was a beautiful ride, I am certain my horse was trying to kill me. He nor I were small yet he chose to go in between two tiny trees. I was sure I would get stuck there. Instead of following the other horses on the trail, he would pick a non-worn trail covered with rocks. I tried my best to remember he knew what he was doing. But at my heart I am a control freak. The horse did his job and we survived. I don't remember who chose white water rafting, but it seemed everyone was excited to try it.
When we arrived at the Rio Grande the sun was shining bright with no clouds. This was pure deception. The water was freezing but like a siren it called me. I was busy staring at the moving water when a guide directed us to the wet suits. Who created these contraptions? Our crew stuffed ourselves into these shape revealing, unforgiving suits. These suits showed every lump, bump and cellulite. Funny thing is when the guide arrived in his wet suit, he looked amazing. He stands in front of describing the rapids for the day, class 3-5. I found myself staring at my baby boy. What did I get us into? If this thing capsized, I would fail as a mother. In my vision I would be so focused on getting out of the water, I would lose track of my child. Then I remember this child can swim. He was thrusted into a pool almost as soon as he exited my womb. Maybe he would save me. Maybe
We climb into the raft for the first half of our six-hour adventure. On the first half Caleb was in the middle row. I felt he was safer there. Each time I looked over my shoulder he was smiling, laughing and paddling. I finally relaxed and took in the scenery. Beautiful and amazing are inadequate and an understatement. The rapids were exhilarating. Bouncing against rocks and plunging into waves. And these were the class three rapids. Yikes!
We stop for lunch break. The guide unpacked a beautiful lunch spread. Our crew couldn't stop talking about the first half. As we gear up to launch again, it was decided my baby would be in the front of the raft for the class 4-5 rapids. Although his feet were nearly frozen(his mother did not know to buy better socks), he was down for the ride. The guide coached us on have to navigate the upcoming rapids. He especially focused on the toilet bowl. Honestly, all I remembered was making sure to swim to the edge toward the shore if we tipped. We were paddling, water splashing over us, trying to avoid rocks and Caleb yells "toilet". I was about to yell at him for instigating my angst when I look to my left side to see the swirling water of the toilet bowl. Swirling. Swirling and swirling. It pulled everything to its center. "Don't tip. Don't tip", I kept repeating in my head. From behind me I hear the guide yell paddles up. We all stop paddling and he navigates us past the toilet bowl. Thank goodness he knew what he was doing :).
Sharing this adventure with my baby boy was the best part.
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