Drifting down the river of life
Lori Borgman | Monday, June 07, 2010
Some of the best boating the husband and I ever did was with an experienced
friend and river guide in a McKenzie River drift boat. It was 30 years ago. We
were young, idealistic, newly married DINKs – double-income-no-kids. Life was
cotton candy clouds and deep blue skies.
Drifting sounds like you plunk the boat in the water and unpack the picnic
lunch Aunt Bea made, but there’s more to it than you think.
Just like a drift boat on a river yields intervals of calm punctuated by
hair-raising screams, so the journey of marriage has its whitewaters and placid
pools.
Friends of Al and Tipper Gore say their marriage came undone because they
drifted apart. After forty years they found themselves on separate currents.
Drifting is inherent with danger.
The art to drifting is knowing the river. You have to read the currents that
ripple across the surface and the ones that swirl beneath. You have to
circumvent floating dead wood and maneuver tight turns between river rocks.
You have to listen to your guide. If your guide says to push the paddle, you
push. If your guide says pull, you pull. If your guide says to pat your
head and rub your stomach, you do that, too.
Occasionally, you even have to put up with attitude. I said to the left! What
are you thinking? Are you sleeping back there? But sometimes, on the
backside of those jagged rocks, you just might catch a rainbow.
The river changes from season to season, so it’s a good idea to check in with
the regulars, the old-timers hanging at the coffee shop who have been drifting
longer and know the course.
Even in a span of comfort and ease you have to keep an open eye. You don’t
want to tangle with an angler’s line, let loose of a paddle or assume the hard
part is over.
Ninety-five percent of drifting is turning the boat at a 45-degree angle to
the current and pulling away from the obstacles. A sharp turn from any threat is
your best protection.
There can be sniping and frustration in rough waters. But if you stay cool
and stay the course, you’ll also see ferns waving from moss-covered banks and
sunlight teasing through towering firs.
The sounds of the river are occasionally accompanied by a distant rush. The
rush grows louder and louder and before you know it the water on the horizon has
a rounded edge. The water doesn’t end. It drops. Sharply.
The boat tips, plunges, cuts into the water below and sends cascading plumes
arcing into the air.
It’s only natural to approach your first waterfall screaming, “We can’t, we
can’t, we can’t!”
But you do, you do, you do.
Drenched and soaked to the skin, screaming and laughing and heart beating
wildly, you might not want to run the falls again, but there is value in knowing
you can if you have to.
Lazy drifts, white waters and unexpected falls are all a part of the journey
of marriage. Drifting in a river boat is quite an adventure, too.
