Things I Learned on a River Trip

By Kristen Gould Case

GREEN RIVER WOMEN'S ADVENTURE, Utah
1. That the leg of the trip you were most afraid of, flying into the Green River on a seven-seater Cessna, ended up being one of the best parts. You fly so low to the ground that you can see beaver dams in the Uintas and trailers tucked in stands of aspen. Someone's little getaway. The beige and green of arid mountain contours look like sand poured from the cupped hand of a child, and the sparkle of rivers and creeks winding through forests glint like lost necklaces in the grass.

2. That there isn't a Starbucks at the "airport" by the Green River, like your pilot Gino told you. That he had just been kidding. That the "airport" is a mesa where Gino will plop the plane down like a stone skipping across the water.

3. The "hot" in the desert starts at 8:30 a.m.

4. That when it's 110 degrees in the shade, you can drink gallons of water and Gatorade and lemonade and scads of watery beer, and still not have to pee.

5. That when it's 110 degrees in the sun, you will, within five days, get a tan as deep as the most weathered saddle, as brown as shoe polish, as dark as Belgian chocolate, that will last you all summer long, despite the SPF 30 you apply religiously every few hours.

6. That you'll re-discover the lost art of sitting in the shade. Just sitting. Just sitting to sit. And rest. And be in the shade. Under a fruit tree - apricots - by an abandoned old cabin where a tattered coat from the 1930s still hangs from a ceiling beam and some moonshiner's shoes still sit on the floor.

7. That arid landscapes force quiet time. They force going inward to find lushness. That desert winds feel like they blow you clean and dry and empty you out, somehow, pure as a single grain of sand.

8. That on a women's-only river trip, bigger cause for concern than worrying about the daunting flight into the river, or surviving rapids, or the possibility of bull snakes or scorpions crawling into your sleeping bag, is WHERE, exactly, do we go to the bathroom?

9. That you're supposed to pee in the river itself, because the ultra-fragile particles of sand on the shore are millions of years old and hold 2,000-year-old pieces of charcoal from an Anasazi woman's cooking fire and an arrowhead her husband was carving and you don't want to pee on those.

10. That no matter if you're in the middle of the wilderness instead of a smoky bar, girls still go together. At any given time, there will be three or four women standing waist deep, in the river's flow, chatting away while doing "you know what."

11. That you do "the other" in something called "the groover" - swanky new portable toilets a far cry from the old coffee can days. The view from the groover is peaceful, and the song "Groovin' on a Sunday Afternoon" takes on a whole new meaning now that you know what the "groover" is.

12. That women come to the river for different reasons. Some come for 21st, 40th, or 55th birthdays. Some come with an urn called "Traveling Mom," ready to spread the ashes of their own mother on the glassy surface of the Green, because said mother instilled in them a deep love of travel and adventure. Some are here to quit 15-year careers in advertising to pursue something more personally meaningful. Some are here to test their mettle in the churning waters. Some are here to contemplate the state of a marriage whose passion has dried up like long-gone tributaries that once ran into the river's edge, now only zig-zagged troughs filled with pebbles. Some are here to get out of New York City. Some are here to mourn lost friends. Some are here simply for the quiet.

13. That sleeping under the stars at night in the desert will end up being your most vivid memory of the trip. Falling asleep on a cot, trying to keep your eyes open as long as you can to watch the stars, the Milky Way looking like gauze draped across the sky, a swag around the best window view ever. You'll feel the river breeze against your cheek as you nod off, a ring of moonglow on your skin, and see a mountain goat wandering through camp, like some kind of sleep fairy, his silhouette a shadow under moonlight, his hoofs leaving a trail of round indents in the sand.

14. That waking up on the beach with 30 women quietly stretching arms over heads, pulling thin whispers of material over limbs, fastening velcro sandal straps that snap like static, will make you feel as though you're in some impressionist painting come to life - some mythological garden of river nymphs.

15. That "roughing it" means no cream for the coffee. Coffee's black here. But it's French press coffee. Made for you every morning. Gee. Rough.

16. That after the first day, you won't notice anymore that you're not wearing a watch. It won't matter any more what time it is. As a matter of fact, it won't matter any more what day it is.

17. That if you sit next to the coolers filled with lemonade, punch, and water on the rafts, you're "Quench Wench" for the day.

18. That when your Irish jokester of a guide tells you to call the river's "albino diving porpoises" by slapping your hands on the surface of the water, you're about to get mooned by her glow-in-the-dark derriere emerging from the river like an arching dolphin.

19. That you like the way everything is carabeenered to the sides of the rafts during the day - wet bags, plastic coffee cups, sandals…and you wish somehow you could be carabeenered to the rubber raft of your own life, so that when it gets bumpy, and rocky, you won't fly off into the void.

20. That when ladies from Minnesota come on the trip, they will insist that BACON be served EVERY MORNING. You will devour it in strips with eggs, and then in little pieces in a spinach salad at lunch and then in creamed green beans for dinner.

21. That the smell of sunscreen at 6 a.m. while doing yoga on the beach, feet planted firmly in sand, nipples turned towards the fading moon, and the smell of the coffee propped next to your legs as you stretch them - that it all works.

22. That gravity is a good thing to make peace with. To actively yield your weight into the ground instead of against it. Stand in the place where you live.

23. That to be a river DIVA, sarongs and bathing suit tops (or not) are all you need to wear for five days. That if you leave your hair in braids for five days straight without washing it, combing it, or touching it, it stays out of your way just fine.

24. That getting a massage in a white tent on the banks of the river with candles flickering and oil being rubbed into your arid skin after a long day of paddling, is unforgettable.

25. That you will never again make fun of Pilates - what's the big deal - you just lie on your back and stretch, right? After hiking, paddling and swimming for eight hours, trying to raise your leg from the center of your stomach muscles, even lying down, is decidedly not laughable.

26. That there are sounds on the river that will stay in your head long after you leave its waters. Laughter echoing down canyon walls as boats float in a line, one after the other. Screams of thrill and terror as boats drop down rapids. Cheers and claps afterwards, once you're through them. The sound in your own head of sand between your teeth when you bite down. Cattle mooing somewhere I the distant night. The yelling of the guides in unison in the morning, "coffee!" and at night "hors d'oeuvres!" and whenever necessary, "last call on the groover!" The rushing of the river. The early morning bird who foghorned a long, low call as goodbye on the last day of the trip. The sound of oars dipping into water. The hissing of propane stove heating water in the morning for coffee. Girls singing along to guitars around the campfire at night. The beating of your own heart when you agree to go in the "ducky" (a two-person kayak) on the last day through the biggest rapids. The sound of the guides chanting, "We want to see ducky carnage!" with glee in their eyes. (That's when you know you're in trouble.)

27. That when your guides pull still-frozen popsicles out of the cooler on the fourth day, you'll believe in magic again.

28. That women you just met yesterday will become trusted advisors and friends. They will pass cots and sleeping bags and supplies from one to another, raft to beach, in a chain of arms and rotating torsos, like some sort of synchronized swim team. They will reach hands out over the sides of rafts to pull you from the water. They will keep their eyes on you in the rapids, letting the guides know whether you're still in the boat, or not. They will float on their backs next to you, breasts and toes sticking out of the water as you float effortlessly down a stretch of smooth flowing river, talking about children, jobs, lovers and whatever else comes to mind.

29. That a river guide can do great back flips and cartwheels off the side of a rubber raft.

30. That even on a river trip out in the wilderness, we are girls, and there must be a little fashion and there must be shopping. One mom brings sparkly nail polish that is applied to everyone's toes each night around the campfire. And who needs the shopping network when you can sit after dinner trying on necklaces and bracelets of hemp and stones and petrified wood pieces handcrafted by J.J. the hippie goddess?

31. That the creepy, crawly hellgrammite frantically circumambulating around the campfire at night, leaving a little sketch trail in the sand, reminds you of yourself sometimes, going round and round in circles, like something crazy. But that a river meanders along. It's not a straight shot to its ocean destination. Sometimes it gets stuck for a while, leaving gouges where it's settled for a bit, swirling in on itself, collecting silt, but ultimately, it still keeps moving forward.

32. That there are many things you can do with a sheet. When 30 women are told to wear one to the final night's "toga party," you'll see sheets worn as Flintstone Pebbles headdresses with hair shooting out the top, sarongs, a wedding style bustle bow or a man's necktie.

33. That during said final night dinner party, guides will be wearing pink chiffon, black and silver lame, and checkered prairie girl dresses.

34. That their skirts will blow against their tanned legs as they prepare dinner, colorful flags of randomness on the red rock shore, and that the cowboy sauntering by on horseback across the river will nearly fall off his mount.

35. That you realize maybe you aren't going to get all the answers you came looking for on this river trip.

36. That 84 miles and five days might not be enough time. That maybe you just need to go with the flow, and remember the river when you lie in bed at night in four walls.

37. That the river is still moving, and changing, without you.

38. That life keeps changing. Dig your paddle in deep through the rapids, and sit back and relax in the quiet side pools. Do not expect any thing in return for your questions for a while, except movement itself.

39. That for weeks after your return, while you stand in the shower, you will find sand in your scalp, ears, and eyebrows. You will watch water and sand swirling down the drain and fixate on the way the water flows and start imagining how you'd run it if you were still in the raft.

40. That when the river is quiet, it's calm enough to see yourself in reflection. And that's why you went in the first place.