Nature's Novices rock the boat on kayaking adventure (with multimedia)

    OK, you bully of a river, you haven't scared me off yet
    Roxana Orellana: As if in slow motion, I felt my body submerge in the heavy, quiet, dark of the Green River's cloudy waters. Sound and light shut off. All I heard were my own thoughts.
    "This is amazing. I'm under water. Is that my heart beating? That's my blood traveling through my body."
    It took the quickly shrinking oxygen in my lungs to remind me that half of my body remained in the kayak. That propelled me to the verge of panic.
    "The skirt, pull the skirt off, the handle, the handle! Don't let go of the paddle!" I heard my brain yell.
    Upside down, I felt the front of the skirt, which was tightly tucked in grooves on the kayak, and tugged at the pull handle.
   Suddenly, I was out of the kayak and on the raging surface of the river.
    Whitewater kayaking with the Utah Whitewater Club on a 4 1/2-mile stretch of the Green River is perhaps the most exhilarating, fun, exhausting, scary adventure I've had. Canyoneering in Zion was physically demanding. But it didn't compare to the fear I felt when submerged in water during the "free swim." I'm not a swimmer, I have a slight case of claustrophobia, and I don't like large bodies of water.
    Maggie seemed a bit out of her element, too, but I knew she at least had recently learned to swim. Not that it would have made a difference in the rolling rapids.
    "You'll be fine. You're with me," said Craig Waddell, the brooding, uber-tanned, 30-something kayaking aficionado who served as my instructor and rescuer.
    For some reason, all 20-plus people in the group seemed to know exactly what they were doing even though they were considered beginners like us. Some had spent time in the pool preparing for their first outing on the river. Others had done some kayaking, while others just had better balance than I do.
    After the free swim - floating down the river "to get a feel" of what it's like but more like a near-death experience - it was time to get in the kayaks.
    Squeezing yourself inside the heavy miniature boat can be a little claustrophobia-inducing at first, but your body seems to mold to it after a while. Once Craig explained how to keep my torso centered for stability, it was time to try the survival skill of wet exiting.
    "Wait! give me a minute to center my chi," I said to Craig, trying to calm my racing heart. "What if I get stuck and my feet don't come out?"
    With a quick toss of the kayak, I was under water.
    The first exit was not so graceful. But thanks to the flat, calm water near the shore, I was able to get out without swallowing too much river water.
    One benefit of falling out often, as I did, is that you get to stretch your legs from time to time. Maggie, who didn't fall out once en route, began to complain that her legs were falling asleep. She distracted herself by planning what she would have for dinner. We had discussed stopping at the famous Ray's Tavern for a burger. Then we would load up on souvenirs - Green River's world-class melons. To get there, we had to complete our water journey first.
    Of the five or six rapids we faced, I must have spilled through half of them. While we had practiced what it would be like to go under, it was surfacing in the rapids that made me think of my mortality.
    Yes, Craig would have saved me if needed. But I was still scared.
    The last rapid was memorable and probably the reason I would kayak again. It was shallow. Not a good thing when you fall out and get dragged by the current. I left a nice chunk of my knees on the rocks, and traces of my dignity were washed away.
    Discouraged by the spill and banged-up knees, I relaxed and let the current take me.
    "Hold on," I heard someone yell.
    I watched for the rescue kayak and when it was close enough, I hung on tightly to the back as it pulled me to shore.
    It took me a few minutes to get a grip on what had just happened. Deep breaths followed by nervous laughter is the usual procedure. After seeking sympathy from the other kayakers, I vowed it wasn't over.
    The river is not going anywhere, nor am I. I made a date to regain my dignity.
    rorellana@sltrib.com
   
   Fear of tipping over keeps me upright throughout trip
    Maggie Thach: I can swim and thought I would be OK. That was not the case.
    I was in the water before I could gather my thoughts and, before I knew it, the current took me away. I panicked. I tried to swim at an angle but couldn't see where I was going. So I rolled around to a "Superman" pose and my right foot was abruptly introduced to the big rocks below. I rolled on my back and put my feet in front of me and was pounded by a wave. It was overwhelming. I was scared and, to top it off, my helmet was so big, it slipped over my eyes. I yelled for help. When the water finally calmed and I was able to grab onto a kayak, embarrassment set it. That was not the impression I wanted to make.
    On a patch of calm water, our group practiced controlling our kayaks and wet exiting. I thought I had already mastered the technique when Gordon flipped me over in my kayak a few times and I was able to kick out. But I had to practice with a skirt, which keeps you in the kayak and if you're under water, could be a death trap - at least, that's what I was thinking.
    Roxana got the technique down and came over to help. I told her to flip me without telling me. I let out a yelp and once I was submerged, panic flooded my mind.
    "What do I do? What do I do?" I thought as I hit the water. "Where's the handle? Oh, no, it's too far. I'm stuck!"
    I felt silly because all I had to do was pull my body forward to grab on the handle. I pulled off the skirt and was free. But I didn't want to go through that experience ever again.
    I think that's why I was able to keep myself up in the kayak for the entire trip down the river. We went through five substantial rapids and I was able to balance through them all. It was only when we got to eddy lines - where the water moves in different directions - that I was a little confused. It's where the risk of flipping over becomes much greater.
    Gordon was explaining how to lean into eddy lines, and in typical Maggie fashion, I was in my own zone, probably with a blank stare on my face. Finally I said, "Can I just watch you do it?"
    I mimicked Gordon and stayed upright but still didn't fully understand how to tackle every eddy line I came across.
    After about three hours on the river, we came to the biggest rapid, the last one before the end of the trip. Beginning kayakers were assigned to go down with an experienced one, but I found myself alone as I was about to take on the rapid.
    I saw Roxana disappear into the crashing waves and then saw the bottom of her yellow kayak. "I shouldn't be going alone," I thought, but I had no choice as the water slowly pushed me toward the rapid. I checked my skirt and descended into the rushing water. It knocked me off-balance once, but I paddled slowly to correct myself. I tried to enjoy the undulating ride and was relieved when I made the calm water on the other side.
    Roxana was upset at spilling so many times. But I'm proud of us both. We're weak swimmers and have a mild fear of the water. On every other adventure, we've had some control over the situation. But we had little on this trip.
    Roxana says she thinks she has less fear of water because of this trip. I think mine is worse. If anything, I realize just how fast and powerful water can be. But I have confidence that I can handle myself in that situation, even if the fear is always there.
    mthach@sltrib.com