Girlfullness Goes Whitewater Kayaking

Cheryl receiving instruction from Eric on the Youghiogheny River in SW Pennsylvania


Maria focusing on her next move


Cheryl enters the rapids with Tara coaching


Devin surfing a wave


Cheryl and Devin resting in an eddy

"Hi, I understand there is a whitewater kayaking trip this weekend.....I thought I might come along!," I playfully exclaimed as I entered my son Devin's classroom at Ohio University where he is a second-year student. It was fun to see the students turn in union with surprised expressions and chuckles when they heard this voice projected from the doorway. It was more fun to watch them rotate toward the front of the room in anticipation of how their professor would respond to this unannounced guest. It was most fun to watch this respected, middle-age professor at the head of the class stammer, "Well......well....well I suppose that would be alright."

This was not the scenario I expected when Devin invited me to come to class with him Thursday afternoon. Our plans to spend the weekend together got shipwrecked when he was required to attend a 3-day whitewater kayaking trip over Parent's Weekend, but we were satisfied with having Thursday afternoon and Friday morning together. I explained to the professor that I was just kidding when I suggest that I come along. He said he felt bad that he had planned this trip before he realized it was Parent's Weekend, and assured me that it would be ok since the class wasn't full. Wow! Now I am surprised!


Friday morning I did a one-stop shopping spree at the local thrift shop to outfit myself with water shoes, swimsuit, and non-cotton clothing. The professor, Mr. D, and his assistants had already loaded a kayak, paddle, helmet, skirt, wetsuit, life vest, and tent for me. I climbed aboard at 1 pm as a passenger in one of two vans loaded with students and graduate assistants. An unplanned adventure ahead....all because I dared to be girlfully playful! This youthful feeling was supported by the welcome I received by some of the students who were amused that I actually wanted to come. They laughed at the thought of their moms white-water kayaking. I did wonder to myself why there were only 2 girls in this class.

I had never been whitewater kayaking before but felt excited about expanding my skills. I had some experience in big water like ocean bays and Great Lake shorelines, but most of my limited time in kayaking the last two years has been in small inland lakes and slow rivers. Now I would get familiar with different styles of kayaks and kayaking, have a guided trip to another area of the country, receive hands-on instruction with talented and confident instructors, extend my camping season with a full moon to boot, and savor time with my son without cell phones and campus commotion.

We travelled to southwestern Pennsylvania and set up camp on the shore of the Youghiogheny River. Saturday morning we suited up and I was thankful that one of the female students, Cassie, who has taken a class before, offered me a special shirt to wear for warmth under the wetsuit. We spent most of the day on the river. We learned to ferry across fast water; to eddy-in where there was safe, quiet water behind boulders; to peel out or eddy-out into the fast, riled current with intent and focus; to surf a wave with finesse, not power; to use the hips, knees and paddles to face gaping, roaring holes; and most importantly how to muster the courage to face it all again after recovering from a few long seconds upside down underwater.

On Sunday we practiced it all again. Maria, another female student, had never been in a kayak before this trip. She rolled with the dozens of unintended Eskimo rolls, smiling more as she gained proficiency and confidence. I admired her courage. I was admired in turn by Tara, a female instructor, who complimented me on my efforts to try something new and thought it was so cool that I came along. I admit, I was scared alot, and often.

I am grateful to Mr. D for taking a chance on an woman whose skills he did not know, to the instructors for patiently sharing their expertise and keeping me and my son safe, and to my son, Devin, for his bravery not only on the river but also on land where he could have been ridiculed by his peers for letting his mom hang out with him all weekend.

Also I am thankful for the students' exuberant and courageous spirits which brought me a little closer to my own youthfulness. I am thankful for my general fitness which let me enjoy 3 days of unplanned activity and lead a 17-mile hike on Monday morning after 4 hours of sleep. This is a lot to be thankful for, but really, to play, like decades ago, in a brilliantly authentic and absorbing manner, with curiosity and courage..... this is the gift. This is girlfullness and its' spirit runs deep and clear. Peel out, girls!

Lingering at Hall Road Bridge

My husband, Dan, and I completed a 13 mile kayak day-trip on the Thunder Bay River in northern Michigan, exiting at the Hall Road Bridge. Earlier we had spotted a bicycle at the take-out next to the bridge, and while Dan rode the bike back to the car I had some time to linger.

I walked out to the center of the bridge on Hall Road, a little-used dirt road surrounded by state forest. I don't know what got into me, but it sure looked like it would be fun to jump off the bridge into the fast current which winnowed through the narrow culvert under the bridge. I decided the 12 foot jump would be foolish, not knowing if there were rocks below the current and no one to help if needed. Damn, if I didn't hear that nagging old voice, "Get serious Cheryl, you don't have the courage anyway."
I stepped back from the edge and noticed far down the road a group of 5 people walking abreast. It was a slow, lazy, summer stroll and as they finally got close enough I could see 5 teenage girls with towels wrapped around their waists. Well, at least I will be able to go swimming safely in the company of others, I assured myself. But instead, these rough-talking, spit-chucking girls walked to the center of the bridge where they made themselves comfortable resting on the guard rail. After a few minutes of lively and loud banter, 3 of them took off their towels and without much hesitation jumped into the river. They must have seen the glee on my face because they asked me if I would like to do it. "M a y b e......" , I coward. "You can get between us. We will hold your hand and jump together," the girl who spat the most figured. Not wanting to give up all control, I suggested that I just stand at the jump-off point and try it alone. So I was alone, on the edge. Two girls were below in the water to catch me, two girls were at the top to coach me, and one girl had my camera to get a shot. It looked more scary now that I was actually prepping myself for a jump. I hee-hawed around, until the girl who spat the most shouted, "Come on! You only live once!" I don't know why that remark from some young person who didn't even know me pissed me off, but it made me decide that I wasn't going to go to bed that night and feel disappointed that I didn't jump. So I sent myself off the edge, not a forceful leap but a step into a youthful burst of fun. It seemed like I would never hit the water. They caught me, pulling me from the center of the current, cheered, and gave me hugs. Then they led me by the hand through the slick culvert and fast current under the bridge to the other side where we played in the current. They were so sweet, protective and fun, their natural selves, I'm sure.

Still there were two girls who hadn't jumped yet, the two who spat the least. They wanted to do it and held hands at the jump-off point. For ten minutes they approached the edge, looked over it, backed up, chanted one-two-three, and went nowhere. Getting tired of this routine and shivering in the water below as one of the catchers, I finally hollered, "Come on! You only live once. You're not going to wait until you are 57 to do this, are you?" That did it. They jumped...and they yelled much louder than I did! Group hug.
By the time my husband got back, I was all by myself again. I asked him how the bike ride was. He said he enjoyed a beautiful, quiet ride through the forest. I didn't doubt it. He asked me what I did while I waited for him. I told him I jumped off the bridge with a bunch of new girlfriends. He didn't doubt it. He must know something about girls!

3 Little Dippers

Two girlfriends and I completed our annual "girls only" swim a couple of weeks ago. Usually the three of us swim together every Sunday in a local pool on the master's swim team. The coach directs us and the other team members how to make our free, back, and breast-strokes more efficient and powerful. We work hard for an hour with drill and speed laps, always rewarded with a relaxed body and mind for Sunday evening's weekend wind-down. We also have become much stronger and confident swimmers, propelling us in challenging events like triathlons.
But once a year the three of us want to try something different; a more unique kind of swimming experience. A night swim, to be precise....naked, to be more precise. We drop our clothes on the shore, swim 1/8 mile to the opposite shore, run back around to our stack of clothing before finding our way through the dark to the unofficial exit. We doggy-paddle so we can gaze at stars, giggle, and spurt whispered exclamations, "It's so beautiful!" "It's so quiet out here!" "Look at the Big Dipper!"
Yes, we feel playful, girlish, and skinny, like the 3 little dippers we are.
(Photos omitted: just imagine 3 little dippers smiling at one Big Dipper)