| White water rafting
And to think things had started out so well. A perfect day, sharp blue skies over the mud flats of the low-tide Shubie. As we skipped along the river, our guide, Jeff, reassured us that he tries not to lose too many passengers, as it’s a pain to have to go back and pick them up. He steered us ahead of the crowd of adventure seekers and beached us on the mud flats. The squishy mud in my toes felt good, and gave us a chance to take in the view – bald eagles flying overhead, strange pillars on the banks shaped by erosion, and vivid, golf-course green patches of grass, the remains of Acadian dykelands. The highest tide in the world was already storming in, roaring up the river like a fighter jet. In just 30 minutes, the ground we stood on would be under 30 feet of water. We got back in the Zodiac and headed for the tidal bore. The in-coming tide from the Bay of Fundy storms up the Shubenacadie with enough raw power to stop the flow of the river and turn it around as it drives it backward 30 miles inland. This is when the river starts to boil. Jeff parked our boat right on top of the bore, and we hovered over the turbulent tide, the river ahead placid as a pond. Now it was time for the real fun. Our Zodiac sped along the river to the bubbling brown waters, then slowed to a stop. Jeff eyed the waves, easing up to them sideways, looking for an entry point. The boat started rocking, then we turned and disappeared into the storm. Hanging onto a Zodiac in the rapids is like trying to hang on to an angry bucking bronco - except this horse is soaking wet. The waves rear up in front of you, the boat points its nose at the sky, everybody takes a deep breath, and you rollercoaster over the top and crash into the river, smack into the nose of another hungry wave, which tosses you up for more of the same. It is exhilarating, and you’ll have a hard time wiping the grin off your face – though a mouthful of salty water might do the trick. After a half a dozen passes, Jeff steered us out of the rapids and we coasted along the river, grinning and counting heads. All accounted for. As a little intermission, the boats head for the banks for a little mud sliding. This is just ridiculously fun. Clamber out of the raft and up the soft, warm muddy banks, turn around, and dive back into the river. After a few goes, the mud forms a little slide and you can careen down it like a water slide. Drenched, muddy and salty, we headed back out to have another go at running up the frothing waters. I was starting to feel like a salmon with a hot date upriver. After a three-hour tour (where have I head that before?), I was exhausted – and that was when Sherman pointed his camera at me. Somehow, we both stayed onboard, surfed a few more rapids, and then headed back to base for a feast.
First published in the Halifax Daily News July 14 2007
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‘Smile,” said Sherman from the back of the boat as our Zodiac cut through a quiet section of the Shubenacadie River. I turned and obliged from my perch at the front. I should have noticed that everybody else suddenly turned to the bow, but I didn’t, and so the giant wave slammed into my back with a cold shock of water, sending me flying into the air, half in the dingy, half over the churning water, my grip on a little rope the only thing keeping me from the murky river.