The One Year Float

A couple of weeks ago, Michael came home and happily declared, “I bought a boat!” And indeed, I walked outside to find a weathered 14 foot aluminum drift boat behind the garage. “Are you sure it’s gonna float?” I asked, eyeing its most recent registration sticker, marked 1983. We were both in diapers the last time this thing was on the water. “I hope so,” he said, “And if it does, it’ll be the best hundred bucks I ever spent!” His boyish excitement over this old boat made me laugh and I couldn’t help but join in his excitement about our new vessel.  Summer in our little town is a lot more fun when you have something to float down the river in!

We took her for a spin one evening last week on the lake to make sure she did in fact float, and to our surprise, there weren’t any holes to be fixed. The oars Michael picked up might be a little on the short side, but they were a good deal and will do the trick for the time being.

It is our one year anniversary this weekend, so we decided to kick off our weekend with our first float trip down the river in our new boat. It was a beautiful warm(ish) spring day, the first day that I really felt like summer is around the corner. People were out and about without jackets, and there was a buzz in the air as I drove through town with my windows rolled down. What is it about driving home from work on a Friday with the sun shining and the windows down? Michael and I happily packed up some snacks and beer, loaded the boat onto the trailer, turned up the tunes, and headed out to deliver his truck to Foote Bridge, where our float would end. The river is high right now with all the runoff  and it’s moving at a moderate speed, so the float would  take roughly two hours, giving us the perfect amount of time to enjoy the sun’s last rays.

We put the boat in, got flowing, cracked our beers and clinked our cans together in celebration of the momentous occasion. We both wished our pups were with us but we figured we’d better get one trip under our belt before they came along. Kaiya weighs 140 pounds and was a little nervous during our test float on the lake. Penny, on the other hand, was all about it, but we still felt like they should sit this one out while we get to know the boat a little better.

The stretch of the North Platte we were floating has a lovely, leisurely pace. Michael rowed when needed through turns and around driftwood, otherwise we sat back, soaking in the sunshine and peace, letting the river carry us. Bald eagles soared above us, ducks quacked, geese honked, a beaver poked his head out of the water and the cows stared at us from behind the fence line in that funny way that they do.

I felt so absolutely content in these moments, with my handsome, rugged man sitting across from me in our new old boat, sipping our beers and laughing and chatting about everything and nothing. There is nowhere I would rather be in the world than next to this man.

Especially not submerged in the frigid waters of the North Platte River.

Unfortunately, this sunkissed story is about to take a chilly turn.

Now, let me reiterate that the section of the Platte River we were floating is by no means a difficult feat. Michael has done this trip numerous times before, and we are both well versed in paddling and rowing. What happens next is due to sheer attentive neglect on our parts. (Maybe a litttttttle bit more mine). We were (evidently) very immersed in our conversation, and I was the only one of the two of us facing forward. I saw the “sweeper” up ahead and wasn’t concerned in the slightest that we wouldn’t get around it, but also perhaps didn’t realize that it was approaching as quickly as it did. A sweeper, as I have since learned it is called (and was about to become quite intimate with) is a tree that has fallen over a river with branches extending into the water. This was a large sweeper that stuck out about a quarter of the width of the river.

Suddenly, we were upon the tree and it dawned on me that we were not, in fact, going to clear this thing. Michael’s end of the boat was near the tip of it, but I was headed straight for the mess of huge branches. I threw my hands out, mostly in an attempt to shield myself, and grabbed hold of one of the big branches (I guess with the hope that I could maybe push us away and get around it).  The tree was dead of course, so the branch snapped, and the next thing I know, I was knocked out the side of the boat into the icy waters. I surfaced with a shocked gasp and grabbed on to the boat, too cold and dazed to lift myself back up. Michael grabbed me and helped me climb back in.

My body was convulsing in shivers and the cold stunned my system so much that I couldn’t catch my breath for a few minutes. All I remember thinking about was summer camp as a kid when I had to jump in Lake Whatcom for the swim test and similarly, couldn’t catch my breath in the cold water.

Seriously, did that really just happen? Did I really just fall out of the boat?

Michael pulled over and I sludged out of the boat, heavy from my sopping wet jeans and fleece.  While I stood there in freezing shock, barely able to put two words together, he immediately stripped my top off (joked he wasn’t gettin’ fresh with me) and put his shirt and fleece on me, along with the down jacket, rain jacket and beanie I had packed. (Points for preparedness!) He wanted me to put his pants on too, but I figured in the time it would take me to peel off my wet jeans, we could probably make it back to the truck.

We had at least another 25 minutes of rowing to get to Foote Landing, and I can’t say it was the warmest and most comfortable ride of my life, but Michael kept me laughing as we recounted the sudden crazy turn of events. The laughter was replaced by a few momentary F-Bombs when I realized  I lost my new prescription Ray Ban sunglasses in the fall, as well as did permanent damage to my Iphone that was in my pocket. Our enjoyable little float trip was going to have some expensive consequences this time around. But…in the end, those are just ‘things’ that can easily be replaced.

And then we sat in silence for a bit while Michael rowed, and even though I felt like a miserable wet rat and both our egos were bruised a little bit from a very preventable incident, I couldn’t help but notice how stunning our natural surroundings were in that moment. The sun was setting and the sky was a brilliant pallet of oranges and purples.  Sheep Rock glowed in the distance. The river was calm and quiet. “This would have been really romantic if you didn’t fall out of the boat,” Michael joked.

But somehow it still was, very much so. If I am going to fall out of a boat, there’s no one else I want pulling me right back in and wrapping me up in his arms, than Michael. He’s my guy. That’s all there is to it. I love this man with every ounce of my being. He makes me a better woman and he’s taught me the true essence of being in a beautiful partnership.

We made it back to the truck, and loaded up in record time. Michael blasted the heat and kissed me and we agreed to beeline it to the hot pools in town, the only thing that was going to get rid of this chill I had in my bones. I leaned my head back on the head rest and closed my eyes feeling drained, but grateful and so loved.

So maybe our adventurous evening on the river is a good metaphor for life and relationships: You just gotta go with the flow and enjoy the ride, and maybe you hit a few trees now and then and fall out of the boat 🙂 It’s not all sunshine and bald eagles all the time of course. And it takes work to get back in the boat and keep on rowing, but you do because that’s what love is all about. And you keep laughing and growing and learning and flowing down that river together.

Happy Anniversary Babe. I love you and I can’t wait for all the adventures that await us.