For the Love of Water.

It rushed through my spine, spreading to the horizons of my limbs, my body shook in the frigid early morning cold. Most of the stars had slipped away to the other side of the world leaving but one to illuminate the dark before the first light. “It’s Venus, the morning star” came the always calm voice of my dad, as he moved more rafting gear from our spacious garage placing it haphazardly on the driveway. I continued to stare out at the brilliance of the hunk of molten rock reflecting the warmth of the sun deep in space.

I could feel it.

Another wave of cold swept my small body. I shivered. My dad slammed the hatchback of our almost new maroon minivan shut. The van was now packed full of rafting gear, the strong stench of well worn neoprene to forever to remain inside. “Get in it’s time to go.” The voice of my dad interrupting my far off gaze.

I could feel it.

We were headed out on a three day Deschutes river trip, the second one of the year. We had woken up at first light to make it to the put in, before the customers, to have everything ready. I was only six years old, but I could tell it was time to leave the city. The suburbs. To head to the water. To disappear from society, problems, money, if only for a few days. I dreamed about it in the dull days of my first year in school. It was instilled inside me every night as my dad would read out loud John Wesley Powel’s journals of his first expedition of down the Colorado River. It became all I could think about. It became all I wanted. As left the gaze of the lone morning star, I could feel it.

Freedom.

There is a freedom in the river. There is freedom in water. There is no beginning or end to a river. It does not die, it was never born. Every first year biology student learns about the water cycle. It rains, the rivers fill up, meander to the ocean, the ocean water evaporates, rises into the clouds, to only fall back down to the earth to forever continue the cycle. There is a freedom in sharing the energy of water, however there is also fear.

I have taught kayaking for three years now. I have been on the river almost my whole life, and I have seen the fear of water in the eyes of many of my customers. Its power scares them. I can see the fear inside them even before they ever touch the river. It is hidden in the tone of their voice, the looks cast toward their feet. It is a primal fear of what we can not control. It is a fear of power we cannot conquer. It is a fear of letting go. It is the fear of the unpredictable unknown.

I have learned to never work against the current, to always go with the flow. To maintain a sense of calm when I have no control. That when I am in doubt of where to go, go where most of the current is headed. I have learned that if I am headed in the wrong direction with no time to correct, to head the wrong way with confidence. It usually works out in the end. If you can learn to overcome the fear of water, you gain a sense of calm. You learn to respect water. It becomes something sacred.

To feel the eternal energy of water and use it to explore the hidden cracks of the earth, is why I love to kayak. It is why I love water.

It is why I have spent the last few years sharing this love with the many different customers who come looking to learn to kayak at where I work, Kayak Chile. It is why I maintain patience while they take the first tedious steps of overcoming their fear. It is why I don’t mind I never make any money.

My feet crunched loudly on top of loose gravel in the parking lot in front of a cluster of small summer homes, as I excitedly threw my kayaking gear into Josh’s white early nineties van. Most of the stars were gone now, first light approaching. With little warning a rush of cold spread through my body. I rubbed my eyes, removing the dust of sleep caused by the five in the morning wake up call. I suddenly looked up. It looked back at me. Venus, the morning star. “Jon, you have everything?” asked Josh in a calm quite voice as to not wake up the neighbors.

“Yeah I think so” I replied still locked in the gaze of the morning star.

“Okay then lets go. Rio San Pedro! Should be awesome!” he said.

I turned my eyes away from the star and to the van. I started to shiver as I jumped into the back closing the door behind me . I rested my back against the dull plastic hull of a kayak. The van rumbled to rumbled to life.

I could feel it.

Freedom.