I love going places, so being grounded for the last few months has been tough. I know, on the scale of suffering, this is minor. And I am completely on board for all necessary precautions to prevent the spread of COVID-19, but didn't we all think this would be over by now?
2020 seems to be getting worse rather than better, and the pandemic feels like only a slice of it. Wildfires. Derecho. RBG. John Lewis. Chadwick Boseman. Breonna Taylor. Eric Garner. Protests. Riots. The whole SCOTUS nomination process feels like a betrayal. And I could use an escape. NOW.
Since it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere any time soon, I thought I'd spend some time remembering my last escape. My husband and I squeezed in a trip to South America in February before international travel became a thing of our past.
The six-day excursion on the Futaleufu River in Chile (The Fu for short) was magical. There are no filters on these pictures. Glacial snowmelt gives the river its amazing color, and the turquoise water makes it feel like you're rafting through a fairyland. The water was so wild some parts that we had to hike around.
About day four, we were in the inflatable kayaks on a challenging section of big water when the guide abandoned the lead to help a kayaker in front of me. Tom had gotten caught in a breaking wave and was upside down. Obviously, a necessary save, but it left me to navigate the river without anyone to follow. I lasted longer than I thought I would. But when the wave I planned to power through turned into a rock, I was swimming instead of boating. The water was moving fast and taking me with it. I didn't know what lay ahead. I visualized a waterfall plunging from a cliff straight out of Jumanji. I swam frantically for the first little pool of water out of the rapid. Then, I grabbed a rock and hung on. My husband bounced past. He wasn't in his kayak either.
In a few minutes, help appeared. Pilau, one of our guides, arrived on the shore behind me and extended his hand to pull me out of the water. Everyone was safe. But that was the end of my kayaking for the day. I paddled the rest of the river in one of the rafts with a guide.
A few days later, we hiked to Obsession Lake. The lake sits in a crater at the top of a peak near our hotel. The trail was steep and narrow. Step number 7,576 went badly. There was a loud crunch coming from my ankle. I didn't make it to the lake, but I did hike back down and hiked the next day. Six months later, that ankle still twinges when I'm in downward facing dog.
God, I miss traveling.
Stories like these are what makes for memories in our family -- who was injured in the most remote location, who had the most insect bites, and who came the closest to dying. It might not sound like fun to you, but when you're trying not to drown, there's no time to think about politics or pandemics, how the world is burning, or systemic racism, or….
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