Sandy Supposes....

May 31st Jasper, Alta. Day 2

         This was my first white-water rafting adventure. I live in Canada and water is everywhere. I've sailed, boated, bobbed within an inflated tire, snoozed aboard a single-sized pool raft as it slowly drifted along a lake, paddled a canoe and a kayak and a rubber dinghy. As such I am quite familiar with the concept, the reality of a soaking. I expect water to be wet.

         Then there's the experience of white-water rafting. I imagine it's similar to being thrashed within a churning washing machine. Was I dropping in an elevator of roaring water, or hurtling along in a roiling rollercoaster? My stomach flipped, flopped and lodged in my throat. Icy water slapped me, pummeled me and stung my eyes. I was beyond dripping. I gasped and spluttered. I whooped and hollered. I swear the so-called raft attempted to buck me out. As I said, I'm Canadian. I apologized for the shoulder slamming and hip checking I could not control. I would describe this entire experience as exhilarating. It got my heart pumping.

         My legs were still trembling and I could only pant as I stumbled onto the big bus that drove us to the Icefields. Just reclining and admiring the gorgeous scenery returned me to a calmer equilibrium. The lakes resembled gleaming polished glass and they mirrored the majestic mountains capped with snow. I admired the emerald green water we passed. Obviously fresh water needn't be blue.

         It did seem strange to be sliding along a vast field of solid ice at this time of the year. Hey, it's all good if I do not have to shovel or break it up. Huh, ice is slippery and cold no matter where it forms.

         Thanks ladies for accompanying me on this month's virtual expedition.