Reuss - 17. August

Feeling like a goose: Falling in the Reuss

No surprises that the first bunny to fall in the drink during the kayaking trip to the Reuss on the 17th August was also the greenest novice. The shame has burned so hot since then that I've had to wait some weeks before the pain was faded enough to write about it! I guess many people have written about their first kayaking embarassment on this site - here's hoping the remeniscence and nostalgia will be pleasant for you as you read this account!
I was a bit timid about the trip, I confess. I had been to the Huningue Canal once, by myself, and had experimented with various methods of falling out of boats, but could I rely on the ducks floating down the Reuss to pull me out if I ran into trouble? - Allez, Forza, Hop Schwyz, c'mon Aussie, etc., I said to myself, and steeled myself to try a trip on a real river. Thus that bright Sunday August morning saw me at the Boothaus, asking everyone I could find whether we would have to go over many waterfalls and how many people usually died per trip.
Luckily, it turned out I knew some of the people going, Damla, Peter and Sally, which made me feel better ( as if being with friends would make me suddenly magically able to paddle!), and those that I was meeting for the first time appeared helpful and sympathetic. After arriving on the scene, there was a bit of standing around (in the river, as it was during the heatwave) while the cars were taken to the finishing point. I watched my possesions go, and hoped to see them again. I was in the middle of a good book, for one!
At last, locked in my cocoon, with last minute pointers on how to use the paddle, (ie, backwards wasn't a good start), we set out. Apparently the roughest bit was the start. I was pleased about that, as I'm one of those people who like to know the worst so they can become accustomed to their fate. Fabian instructed me to follow him (thereby condemning himself to untold boredom), and I rediscovered a problem of my childhood rollerskating days: how the hell do you stop? Why didn't I ask about the brakes before hitting the accelerator? I managed not to crash into Fabian's back too many times, and to follow the instruction to keep paddling at all costs. Furiously and with a great deal of inefficiency, I windmilled my arms, but it was enough and I got through. Everyone else thought it was wonderful, going up into the rapids time after time, and I was happy to sit quietly, untangle my legs and let the heart rate return to normal. Besides, my limbs seemed to have turned into spaghetti, and I wasn't how effective pasta would be in a kayak, even if al dente.
Having calmed down, the minor success of not having impaled myself on a rock went to my head, and I decided I would have another go too. I was already watching in my mind's eye the glorious path I would negociate down my second passage, and so forgot to concentrate on the here and now. The present, being thus offended, engineered that as I tried to turn the kayak, I was rolled right over into the water. I sat suspended underneath the boat and wondered why I didn't fall out. Then I thought it was rather pleasant floating there underwater like that - all peaceful after the roaring water above, and maybe I could stay like that for a while. Then it occurred to me that I might need to breathe at some point - and so, the moment of truth - would it be as easy as everyone said to get out of this deckel - thing? Yes, thus I'm able to write this! I turned the boat over and gripped it. Rescuers told me I had to let go of it and swim to shore. No bloody way, nah-uh! I was in the middle of another pasta - phase and didn't feel I could swim in so much as a duck pond let alone an aggressive current. Feeling extremely pathetic, I was towed to shore while people kindly emptied the boat.
Back in the saddle, I was determined not to be any more of a pest. I was not not not going to fall in again. Luckily (coz it certainly wasn't due to skill) I didn't didn't didn't. The most important reason, actually, was the help in choosing the gentlest paths, and the pep talks and tips I was getting. I want to be able to thank everyone for this in a more specific manner, but I was finding it difficult to identify who was who under all our coverings. I began to relax in time, of course, and to enjoy the glow of the cliffs and the sparkle of the river - very inspiring of prose, it all was, but I know my stengths and so I won't make you endure any! Suffice it to say, this was a perfect blend of excitement and rest, and added to the delight of discovering a new place, new people and a new sport. Nevertheless, after several hours and blisters, the end was a welcome site. My knees have certainly never been at such an unnatural angle for such a length of time, and although I watched carefully, no one seemed to have a walk like a duck as they got out. People were rather tired, but many hands make lighter work of heavy boats, and in an hour we were being smoke-dried by the BBQ. Glazed eyes recovered their spark after a few refreshing beers/spicy chicken kebabs, and there was lots of animated story-telling as befits a campfire. The buzz continued in the car on the way back, and left me high enough that even the fact that I was locked out of the house didn't damp my spirits. Just would've been nice to change the damp clothes!
Looking forward to re-trying the adventure soon, and finding out the identity of the other mystery person who fell in! Happy paddling,

Kirsten